ungrateful
wretch.”
“Did you believe him?”
Guy shrugged. “I was a rascal,
Anne. I know that to be true, but only because he was so domineering. At nineteen,
I decided that I could take no more and headed for the docks and sneaked onto a
ship bound for Calais.”
“Did you tell anyone you were
leaving?”
“I told one of my brothers to
tell my mother not to worry about me, that I was doing what was right for us
all.”
“Do you miss them?”
“That was four years ago.”
“Have you spoken to any of your
family since then? Do they know that you are returned to England?”
He shook his head and sighed.
“No, Anne. I cannot return to see their faces. Not after what I have seen and
done.”
Anne had raised his head then and
looked into his eyes. The firelight had been reflected there, turning the
silver-blue into orange. “What have you seen and done that could be so bad,
Guy?”
“I tried to find work as a
farmhand or servant but the French were just too suspicious of an English boy
who couldn’t speak their language. I felt so clumsy and ignorant and I must
have come across as both. So I was reduced to…doing other things to make enough
to live on. Things I could not describe to you, dearest. Deep, dark secrets
best left in the past.”
Anne suspected that she knew what
Guy referred to. How could a young man in a foreign land make a living if he
had no skills to apply to farming or labor? Though it horrified her to
entertain the idea, she thought that Guy must have sold his body to survive. It
caused a great wrenching pain in her chest to think of this beautiful man being
forced to degrade himself so. Even worse was the realization that it was not
that far removed from what he had been doing in London, selling his artistic skills to the ladies of the ton.
“And how did you escape such an existence?”
She prompted him to continue.
“My patron came along and saved
me. He gallantly lifted me from the streets, cleaned me up, fed and nurtured me,
and brought me back to England with him.”
“What good fortune!” Anne
exclaimed , her heart filled with admiration and
gratitude for the man who had rescued Guy.
“Extremely good
fortune. If it had not been for his kindness…”
Anne hugged Guy to her and
blinked away the tears that pricked her eyes. Guy was a talented artist. She
had seen some of his sketches of her and he had brought others to show her. He
had an ability to capture the beauty of the sunset as it painted the sky with
reds and golds at that crucial moment before dusk
fell. He could portray the joy of a new mother as she cradled her infant in her
arms. And in his rough drawings of her, he had shown her that he could
replicate the image of the woman she had been just months ago, and contrast it
with the woman she had become.
“This patron of yours…” Anne
wished that Guy would share his name.
“I have already told you—he must
remain nameless for now.”
“But why?” Anne’s curiosity about the man who Guy clearly adored was like an itch she
couldn’t scratch.
“There are reasons, dear Anne.
And all will become clear very soon, I promise you. Please trust me.”
He had crawled up her body then
and kissed her. His warm lips and the weight of him, hard and lean and strong
above her had soothed her, banished her questions to the back of her mind where
they could wait until another day. She enjoyed the tenderness of his mouth and
the fire his caresses aroused in her. Confusingly, he had not yet taken her
fully as she had imagined he would, although he had on that last occasion shown
her how to pleasure him with her hands and mouth. It had pleased her deeply to
take Guy’s long, hard shaft into her mouth and use her lips and tongue to
stimulate him until he reached the point of no return. She
had swallowed his salty-sweet seed hungrily, then snuggled into him on the rug
in front of the fire where they had slept away the afternoon.
****
Guy stood in front of his easel
and
wretch.”
“Did you believe him?”
Guy shrugged. “I was a rascal,
Anne. I know that to be true, but only because he was so domineering. At nineteen,
I decided that I could take no more and headed for the docks and sneaked onto a
ship bound for Calais.”
“Did you tell anyone you were
leaving?”
“I told one of my brothers to
tell my mother not to worry about me, that I was doing what was right for us
all.”
“Do you miss them?”
“That was four years ago.”
“Have you spoken to any of your
family since then? Do they know that you are returned to England?”
He shook his head and sighed.
“No, Anne. I cannot return to see their faces. Not after what I have seen and
done.”
Anne had raised his head then and
looked into his eyes. The firelight had been reflected there, turning the
silver-blue into orange. “What have you seen and done that could be so bad,
Guy?”
“I tried to find work as a
farmhand or servant but the French were just too suspicious of an English boy
who couldn’t speak their language. I felt so clumsy and ignorant and I must
have come across as both. So I was reduced to…doing other things to make enough
to live on. Things I could not describe to you, dearest. Deep, dark secrets
best left in the past.”
Anne suspected that she knew what
Guy referred to. How could a young man in a foreign land make a living if he
had no skills to apply to farming or labor? Though it horrified her to
entertain the idea, she thought that Guy must have sold his body to survive. It
caused a great wrenching pain in her chest to think of this beautiful man being
forced to degrade himself so. Even worse was the realization that it was not
that far removed from what he had been doing in London, selling his artistic skills to the ladies of the ton.
“And how did you escape such an existence?”
She prompted him to continue.
“My patron came along and saved
me. He gallantly lifted me from the streets, cleaned me up, fed and nurtured me,
and brought me back to England with him.”
“What good fortune!” Anne
exclaimed , her heart filled with admiration and
gratitude for the man who had rescued Guy.
“Extremely good
fortune. If it had not been for his kindness…”
Anne hugged Guy to her and
blinked away the tears that pricked her eyes. Guy was a talented artist. She
had seen some of his sketches of her and he had brought others to show her. He
had an ability to capture the beauty of the sunset as it painted the sky with
reds and golds at that crucial moment before dusk
fell. He could portray the joy of a new mother as she cradled her infant in her
arms. And in his rough drawings of her, he had shown her that he could
replicate the image of the woman she had been just months ago, and contrast it
with the woman she had become.
“This patron of yours…” Anne
wished that Guy would share his name.
“I have already told you—he must
remain nameless for now.”
“But why?” Anne’s curiosity about the man who Guy clearly adored was like an itch she
couldn’t scratch.
“There are reasons, dear Anne.
And all will become clear very soon, I promise you. Please trust me.”
He had crawled up her body then
and kissed her. His warm lips and the weight of him, hard and lean and strong
above her had soothed her, banished her questions to the back of her mind where
they could wait until another day. She enjoyed the tenderness of his mouth and
the fire his caresses aroused in her. Confusingly, he had not yet taken her
fully as she had imagined he would, although he had on that last occasion shown
her how to pleasure him with her hands and mouth. It had pleased her deeply to
take Guy’s long, hard shaft into her mouth and use her lips and tongue to
stimulate him until he reached the point of no return. She
had swallowed his salty-sweet seed hungrily, then snuggled into him on the rug
in front of the fire where they had slept away the afternoon.
****
Guy stood in front of his easel
and
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