Disgraceful

Chapter 11

Day 2

Ashton contemplated the unfinished image on the canvas, the painting of a face he was staring at was such a perilous beauty. She had misguided him out of his path. He had acted in contradictory with his own words. He had been inconsistent with his orders. He said to her that art was nothing important to him, yet now he asked her to be a part of his artistic project. He said to her that he wanted her to stay away from his properties, yet now he tricked her to come over and over again.

Women like her would lead men astray, would lure men into sin. Women like her would bring men to fatal destruction, like a siren tempted the sailors to crash onto the rocks with her sweet singing. But she wasn't a vixen at all, she didn't manipulate him to do something for her advantage. Instead he was the one that trapped her into his wickedness.

A week. What made him go to such length? At first, he just meant to have one last time with her. Yesterday he was caught on a whim in the last moment to extend it a little more. He just couldn't lose her that quickly. He was stoked to see her. Only thinking about it made him excited, waiting for it, anticipating it. It was like he was falling ... into temptation.

He tried to think about Selene to drive all the nonsensical thought away. He had sworn that he would never take a mistress, so he couldn't be more pleased the first time he met Selene. Apart of her superior bloodline and the substantial advantages she would bring to his family, she was any man's dream. She was perfection. She had anything he had always imagined in a woman. But never had Selene made him feel like waking up every morning with a purpose like this, as though the stream of sunlight filled him with vibrant energy. Habitually he always got up early in the morning, determined to do his duties, but he never felt thrilled and high-spirited like this before. What wild magic was it which had possessed him?

Ashton battled an insane idea that suddenly sprang to mind, suggesting a name for this unknown emotion, a word that he never used to describe his feeling to any of a few women he had had romantic encounter with. He always thought that 'the word' was overrated. It made no sense. He barely knew her. It couldn't be anything but a temporary madness, a fleeting obsession. Whatever feeling he had for her right now, it didn't mean to last. He perceived reluctantly that he had somewhat infatuated with her. A meaningless infatuation, strong and intense as much as fickle and short-lived, and soon would be forgotten in the passage of time.

A soft knock on the door broke in. The door clicked open and she appeared in the doorway, looking at him shortly before she turned to close the door. Strange, she couldn't be more beautiful now than the first time he saw her in her glorious entrance at the evening soiree, when each and every one of his noble fellow judged her as a diamond of the first water. But at that time, she didn't move him as she did now, in her plain, dull-colored Cinderwench outfit.

Her witch-black hair was set in a simple loose braid that twisted at the back of her head, a mass of free locks tumbling over her shoulders. Her dress was as simple and plain as most of the village girls, in a somber grey color. She wore no jewelry at all, but plainly she needed no jewel to enhance her loveliness. Her eyes were the most sparkling jewel, they had their own inner light.

She took the box carrying the costume on the commode and stood there, waiting. He left her to change and the day began just like yesterday, but apparently quieter. None of them spoke until he brushed the canvas for some time. Better be this way. The last thing she wanted was to have another drama for today and the days to come. Even though he wanted her as a muse, it didn't change the fact that he detested her. That was why their communication led to an unreasonable clash yesterday. It would be wiser to limit her talking as short and little as possible, no more than necessary. Still, this whole situation unsettled her. She wasn't certain what it was precisely, but she got a feeling that he had something in his mind that she could not foresee.