Free The Master & the Muses by Amanda McIntyre Page A

body craved it. I hurried to finish dressing and remove myself from the temptation of my imagination.
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    â€œThank you, Madame Tozier, for your contribution to the arts,” Thomas said. “We’ll be certain to credit the lovely hat that Helen holds in the painting to your generosity.”
    As he had predicted, Thomas had managed to charm my employer, reducing her to a blushing admirer.
    Thomas placed his delicate teacup on the plate he held.
    â€œI will be visiting Miss Bridgeton’s family as soon as we have a painting to give them. I must say it is refreshing to find a noted person in the community who appreciates the importance of the arts. Art is what differentiates us from the animals, don’t you agree, Madame Tozier?”
    â€œOh, yes, I do agree, Mr. Rodeen. ” Her smile was demure. “We must educate the unfortunate souls who do not understand such things.”
    I glanced away, covering my smile with my napkin. Thomas was openly charming, a shrewd businessman and, as he made no qualms in saying, he usually got what he wanted. A shiver ran through me, remembering his hand on my breast. What more did Thomas want from me? I chose to set those questions aside for the moment and simply be grateful that some of my guilt had been lifted from my shoulders. I had him to thank for that.
    â€œThomas, did you mean what you said about giving my family a portrait of me?” I asked later as we rode back to the ferry where I would catch my ride home.
    He took my hand, patted it and rested it on the top of his thigh. “I needed to gain Madame Tozier’s trust, Helen. I had to make certain she would not trot off to tell your family all about us herself. By entrusting her to keep it our little surprise, she will keep our confidence.”
    â€œSo, in short, you lied?” I asked.
    He shrugged. “I prefer to think of it as stretching the truth, quite harmlessly. Perhaps we can take them a portrait someday. Would that be so awful?”
    The image of my papa raising his gun to the sky and giving a single warning shot emerged in my head. “Perhaps we should wait a little longer before we tell my family,” I said, as my stomach began to bother me again.
    â€œTilt your chin down. Now lift your eyes…good…there. Hold that look—perfect.”
    I held my gaze steady on a spot of light shimmering over Thomas’s shoulder. Being his muse was a much more daunting task than I had imagined. When he noticed my stress, he would break into song and dance me about the studio until I was in better spirits. On occasion, he would take me to the pub to dine with others in the brotherhood, but although I tried to fit in, I found myself preferring to be alone with Thomas at the studio.
    Several letters had arrived from William, always addressed to Thomas. He indicated that he was having a splendid time in Rome and hoped all was well back home. Never once did he ask about me, specifically. That single afternoon with William began to fade, replaced by the colorful moments I spent with his brother.
    â€œDo you wish to discuss something with me, Helen?” Thomas asked, wiping his fingers on his paint rag.
    â€œI’m sorry, Thomas, I’ll do better.” I shifted, straightening my spine.
    â€œIs it your monthly?”
    I suppose that by now, I should have been more used to his frank manner, but today it surprised me. I’d never spoken to anyone other than my mother on that subject. “No,” I uttered in haste, averting my eyes and feeling foolish.
    Thomas knelt before me, taking my hands in his. The warmth of his concern flowed through me. There was kindness in his eyes that put me at ease.
    â€œIt is natural, Helen. What kind of man would I be if I were not sensitive to these things? Many women have posed for me. I would be a thickheaded boob if I did not understand.”
    â€œI have not been sleeping well. I have bouts of insomnia, but it will