I shook my head quickly.
'Very well.' She looked at Gisselle. 'Both of you go to bed,' she commanded.
I rose slowly and without waiting for Gisselle, started toward the stairway. I walked ponderously up the steps, my head down, my heart feeling so heavy in my chest, it was like I was carrying a chunk of lead up with me.
Gisselle came prancing by, her face molded in a smile of self-satisfaction.
'I hope you and Beau had a good time,' she quipped as she passed me.
What possible part of my mother and what possible part of my father combined to create someone so hateful and mean? I wondered.
18
A Curse
Gisselle and I didn't speak to each other very much the next day. I finished breakfast before she came down, and soon after she did, she went off with Martin and two of her girlfriends. Daddy left, saying he had to catch up on some work in his office, and I saw Daphne only for a moment before she hurried out to meet some friends for shopping and lunch. I spent the remainder of the morning in my studio, painting. I was still uncomfortable living in such a big house. Despite the many beautiful antiques and works of art, the expensive French furniture and elaborate tapestries and carpets, for me the house remained as empty and as cold as a museum. It was easy to be lonely here, I thought as I wandered back through the long corridors afterward to have my lunch alone.
And so I was glad when Beau arrived in the early afternoon and we went into my art studio to practice our play lines. First, he looked at the pictures I had drawn and painted under Professor Ashbury's tutelage.
'Well?' I said when he went from one to the other without comment.
'How about doing a picture of me?' he suggested, looking up from a watercolor of a bowl of fruit.
'Of you?' The idea startled me. A slow grin appeared on his handsome face.
'Sure. I hope it would be a lot more interesting than something like this.' His grin quickly evaporated. Suddenly, those smiling sapphire eyes looked at me as I had never been looked at before. They darkened so with pure desire. 'I'd even pose nude, if you like,' he said.
I know my cheeks turned crimson.
'Nude! Beau!'
'It's only for the sake of art, right?' he followed quickly. 'And an artist has to practice drawing and painting the human body, doesn't she? Even I know that much,' he said. 'I'm sure your teacher will be taking you to his studio soon and have you do nudes. I hear there are college guys and girls who do it for the money. Or have you already drawn and painted someone in the nude?' he asked with a wry smile.
'Of course not. I'm not ready for that sort of work yet, Beau,' I said, my voice nearly failing. He took a few steps toward me.
'You don't think I'm good-looking enough? You think the college guys will look better?'
'No, I don't. It's not that. It's just . . .'
'Just what?'
'I'd be too embarrassed to draw you. Now stop. We came in here to memorize play lines,' I said, opening my script. He continued to gaze at me with that look of pure longing on his face, his cerulean eyes darkening. I had to fix my eyes on the pages so he couldn't see the excitement he had stirred in my breast. My heart pitter-pattered when the image of him sprawled nude on a chaise flashed before me. I couldn't help but tremble. I hoped he didn't see the way my fingers fumbled with the pages of my script.
'Are you sure?' he questioned. 'You never know about something until you try.' I took a deep breath, put the script down, and looked up at him sharply.
'I'm sure, Beau. Besides, all I need is for Daphne to believe one more bad thing about me. She has Daddy nearly convinced that I'm some sort of wicked Cajun girl, thanks to Gisselle.'
'What do you mean?' Beau asked, quickly sitting beside me. Breathlessly, I gushed forth, describing how I had been interrogated about Annie Gray.
'Gisselle told on you?' He shook his head. 'I guess she's just jealous,' he said. 'Well, she has reason to be,' he added, his eyes continuing to grow warmer. 'I'm too fond of you now to turn back. She's going to have to get used to it and behave herself.'
We stared into each other's eyes for a moment. Outside, the morning overcast had darkened into rain clouds and a hard downpour began, the drops tapping on the windows and streaking down like tears on someone's cheeks.
Gradually, Beau leaned toward me. I didn't move away and he kissed me softly on the lips. I felt my small wall of resistance start to crumble. Surprising myself, as well as him, I returned his kiss the moment his ended. Neither of us said anything, but we both knew the memorization session was destined to fail. Neither he nor I could concentrate on the play. As soon as I lifted my eyes from the words and met his, my mind stumbled and fumbled.
Finally, he took the play script from my hand and put it aside with his. Then he turned to me.
'Paint me, Ruby,' he whispered in a voice as tempting as the serpent's must have been in Paradise. 'Draw me and paint me. Let's lock the door and do it,' he challenged.
'Beau, I couldn't . . . I just couldn't.'
'Why not? You paint animals without clothes,' he teased. 'And naked fruit, don't you?'
