Wickham Hall, Part 2 Read Online Free Page B

‘You
are
full of surprises.’
    â€˜Wickham Hall is full of beautiful places to paint.’ His lips twitched at my implication. ‘I wanted to capture the top of the fountain today but it’s not my favourite spot to paint.’
    I suppressed a smile. Whatever Ben liked to tell himself about taking over at Wickham Hall, it clearly meant an awful lot to him.
    â€˜Where is your favourite spot?’ I asked, hiding my face behind my mug.
    â€˜See that hill over there?’
    He placed his hand on my shoulder and twisted me round so that I was facing to the west of the Wickham Hall parkland. In the far distance was a small hill almost at the boundary of the estate.
    I nodded.
    â€˜If you haven’t sat on that hill and waited for the sun to makes its glorious appearance on a summer’s day then you haven’t lived.’
    â€˜So, sunrises are your thing?’ I said, conscious of the touch of his hand on my back.
    He shrugged and swallowed a mouthful of tea. ‘Milky moonlight across a lake and a sky lit with a thousand stars is just as magical. I wouldn’t want to miss either.’
    â€˜That does sound magical.’ I thought for a moment. ‘I’m not sure I’ve ever seen the dawn.’
    â€˜Well, I’m sure that can be arranged.’ He smiled, finished the last of his tea and handed me his mug.
    â€˜Like the quad bikes?’ I said. ‘Quad bikes at dawn, perhaps?’
    â€˜Oh no,’ he shook his head in mock horror, retrieving the brush from behind his ear, ‘dawn is about the stillness and silence and being at one with the world.’
    And with those words of pure poetry, he reapplied himself to his painting. I wasn’t quite ready to leave the sweet summer air and the view of the gardens yet so I took a seat on the top step in front of the easel. The heat of the day was already building and I lifted my hair from my neck. I liked having my hair in a bob; it was nice and easy to look after, but sometimes, like now, I wished that it was long enough to scoop up into a ponytail.
    â€˜You’re very distracting when you do that, you know,’ Ben mumbled.
    He had his brush in his mouth while he scraped at his canvas with a finger.
    â€˜Sorry.’ I got to my feet and picked up our mugs. ‘I’ll go back to the office out of your way.’
    â€˜No, no, stay for a moment and lift your hair up again.’ He gestured for me to put the mugs down.
    â€˜Why?’ I laughed, doing as I was told. ‘I promise I’ve washed behind my ears.’
    I raked my hands through my hair, scraping it so that it all fit into one hand. Ben took the brush from between his teeth and laid it on the edge of the easel.
    â€˜Turn your head,’ he murmured. He cupped my chin and gently twisted my face away from him. ‘The curve of your neck, the pale skin under your hair, and such tiny ears . . . Did anyone ever tell you that you have very unusual earlobes?’
    The moment felt very intimate all of a sudden and I prayed my face didn’t actually look as red as it felt.
    â€˜Not that I can remember.’ I swallowed.
    â€˜It makes me want to paint you.’ He smiled softly.
    â€˜I’m flattered.’ I laughed, releasing my hair. ‘Unless you entitled it
Girl with Weird Earlobes
.’
    He stared at me with an expression I couldn’t read so I looked down at my feet to break the moment.
    He touched a finger to my nose. ‘I think you’re starting to burn.’
    â€˜You’re right.’ I covered my warm cheeks with my hands. ‘Which is my cue to get back to the grindstone. See you later.’
    I began to walk back to the hall and then stopped and turned round only to find him watching me. My face inched up the colour chart from rosy to crimson.
    â€˜By the way, I forgot to say. I managed to get hold of the old newspapers you wanted,’ I called.
    â€˜Already?’ he exclaimed. He