Alec Mackenzie's Art of Seduction (Mackenzies & McBrides #9)(43)

Mostly, Celia simply wanted to see him. To hear him rumble lass in his warm accent, to feel the vibration of his laughter, to bathe in his quick smile.

Alec was in the studio when she, breathless from her climb, entered it. Her portfolio was open on the table, and Alec, his back to her, leafed through the pages within.

“I see you carried on with the landscape,” he said without turning. “Good. We’ll see if we can finish roughing it in today.”

Celia went around the table to face him across it. She sent him a shy smile, wondering if he meant to ply her with kisses while they worked.

She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about his kisses, his mouth a place of heat, his hands strong on her body. She hadn’t understood how fire could rise through her at the touch of a man’s mouth, how the places of herself she’d never thought much about could ache for him.

He looked up at her, and Celia froze, chilled as though she stood in a winter breeze.

Alec’s eyes were hard, the golden color without warmth. His expression was stiff, closed off, forbidding. His affability had gone, a cold man standing in his place.

“What has happened?” Celia asked in alarm.

Alec shook his head, forcing a quick smile that had no warmth in it. “Nothing, lass.” He bent over the drawing, his shoulders rigid as he studied it. “It needs work—but I think when we are finished, you’ll have something to be proud of.”

Celia curled her fingers against her skirts, her eyes burning. He was shutting her out. She was familiar enough with the tactic to recognize it—she’d seen her mother subtly and then blatantly cut people when they didn’t respond to the subtlety.

Whatever camaraderie she’d begun to form with Alec he’d shut off, like pinching out a candle flame. And it had to do with wherever he’d gone with Mrs. Reynolds yesterday, whatever they’d done.

Her throat tightened. She’d been a fool to think she could form a friendship with this man, but his kisses had awakened something in her she could not dismiss.

She swallowed and tried to breathe. Alec lifted a pencil and handed it to her. His eyes were empty, blank, with a hint of warning that she should accept that he was no longer interested in charming her.

Celia took the pencil with stiff fingers, willing herself not to tremble. If she’d inherited anything from her mother it was pride—she’d never let this man know how close she’d come to making a fool of herself over him. If the kisses meant nothing to him then she would make sure he believed they meant nothing to her.

She forced herself to concentrate on the drawing, to shut out the world and focus on the task, though she couldn’t quite with the scent of Alec so close as he advised her on lines and shading.

When the clock struck nine with its muted chimes, Alec straightened. “A little more work with the preliminary drawing, then we’ll transfer it to a canvas and learn a bit about color.” He cast his glance over her gown, but she knew he saw only the charcoal gray velvet, not Celia within it. “I’ll have Rivers find you a smock to protect your clothes while ye learn to mix paint. Your father can provide you assistants for that, but it’s best to mix your own at first. Ye get a feel for the colors and the texture of the paint, how it responds under your hands.” For a moment, the spark returned to Alec’s eyes, his passion for creating art unfeigned. It vanished as quickly. “Off ye go, lass. We’re finished for today.”

“You missed my lesson yesterday,” Celia said, laying the sketches from the camera obscura into her portfolio.

Alec nodded without guilt. “I had a few errands to attend to.”

Celia ought to accept this, quietly place her pencil back into its case, and hurry away, saying nothing. Instead she pinched her lips together, drew upon her courage, and looked him in the eye.

“You were gone all day, with Mrs. Reynolds. I saw you return—I can see the house from my chamber window.”

Alec’s look of wariness reemerged. “Errands, that is all.”

“You are lying.” Celia lifted her chin. “I will not demand to know what you were about and what has happened to make you angry, but please do me the courtesy of not lying to me. If you wish to cease the lessons, I am certain my mother can find another tutor. Good day, Mr. Finn.”

She stalked for the door, ready to exit with her dignity intact, but Alec moved swiftly to stop her.

“We’re not ceasing the lessons.” Alec’s eyes were no less flinty, but the intensity returned, and he spoke rapidly. “I can’t tell ye where I was yesterday, and it’s my business, but I don’t want ye gone. Ye have to come here tomorrow, as usual. Understand?”

Celia didn’t, but she caught the adamance in his voice. Something was very wrong.

“I am learning much from you,” Celia said with a coolness to match Lady Flora at her most haughty. “Therefore, I would like to continue the lessons. But you really must stay out of pubs and not waylay aristocrats in the park. I will not ask you directly if you beat upon Lord Harrenton, because I do not wish you to have to lie. Soldiers came here to search the house yesterday for the culprits. Quite a mercy you were not here.”

Alec flushed. “That it was. And no, lass, I did not put my hands on the marquess.”

His words rang of truth, but not the entire truth. Blast the man. He stirred Celia’s anger and curiosity in the same measure.