“This is lunacy. We don’t get along. There’s nothing in the world we agree on.”
Another half-smile. “We agree on one thing—we want one another.”
Marina didn’t bother denying it. The lie would be too coy for words. The temptation of being close to him without touching him became too much. She stumbled to her feet and stepped toward the rim of the escarpment. Her eyes registered nothing of the breathtaking view. All she saw was the ferocious intensity of Fergus’s expression, as he proclaimed his desire with a fearlessness that threatened to melt her very bones to syrup.
“What are ye thinking, lassie?” he asked behind her. She hadn’t heard him rise and approach her. Diavolo, he could move like a ghost when he wanted to.
She turned to face him, feeling less vulnerable now she was standing. “There was another girl at the art school in Florence. Her name was Rosa Sabattini.”
Marina waited for him to ask why she told him this, but he folded his arms over that impressive chest and gave her his complete attention. He was the wrong man for her in every way that mattered, but she also liked so much about him. Not least the way he listened to her, despite his conviction that he was always right. And his patience. He was willing to wait for what he wanted.
Although given she was what he wanted, perhaps that wasn’t an altogether reassuring quality.
“She was talented. And pretty. A year younger than me.” She swallowed to ease her tight throat. Even after a dozen years, this was hard to talk about. “Then one day, she wasn’t there anymore.”
Fergus didn’t interrupt, and his eyes were somber as they settled on her. She saw he already guessed where this story ended.
“They pulled her body out of the Arno.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “She was going to have a baby and couldn’t bear the shame.”
“What a tragic story,” Fergus said, russet brows lowering over his gray eyes as he assessed what she’d told him. After a pause, he went on. “I’m sorry about your friend, but you’re stronger than that.”
Although the afternoon wasn’t cold, she wrapped her arms around herself. “Am I?”
“You don’t want to conceive my bairn. There are ways of making that unlikely.”
“I don’t want to lose the career I’ve taken years to build.”
A crease marked his forehead. “Surely with your other lovers…”
A painful blush flooded her cheeks. He hadn’t understood as well as she thought he had. “You’re not listening.”
Shock descended over his features, and he faltered back as if she’d struck him. “You’re saying…”
She licked dry lips and lowered her arms to her sides, clenching her fists. She’d never had such a discussion in her life. Cavolo, she hoped never to have another. “No other lovers.”
His frown deepened. “When ye kissed me…”
Embarrassment had her shifting from one foot to the other. She almost began to wish she’d let his kisses find their inevitable conclusion, to save her from having to talk about this.
Dio l’aiuti, did that mean she was on the verge of taking this man as her lover?
She spoke in a rush, wanting to get it over and done with. “I had an adolescent romance with one of the other students at the school. A very nice boy called Paolo Martini. We used to kiss in the Boboli Gardens and talk about what life would be like when we were both famous.”
“But nothing more.” It wasn’t a question, and she realized Fergus at last pieced together what she’d told him. He didn’t look shocked anymore. Instead he looked thoughtful, almost…calculating. “So all those gentlemen who approached you…”
“I remained dedicated to my art.” She flinched when she realized she used the past tense.
“I misunderstood. I assumed you were experienced.”
“I know.” She cast him a quick glance, then looked away. “Does this change your mind about wanting me as your mistress?”
When she looked at him again, that half-smile was back. “Dinna be daft, lassie.”
Was that relief loosening her limbs? It would be easier, safer, if her confidences gave him a distaste for her.
“When I started gaining a reputation as an artist, there was too much at stake for me to gamble it all on a love affair. It isn’t just Rosa, although she’s example enough of what happens to girls who risk everything for a man’s sake. I need to keep my good name, if only to stop my patrons from becoming my pursuers.”
“If nobody has you, you remain out of reach as a woman, while you can reign as an artist.”