Lily by Kathleen Bittner Roth

Author:Kathleen Bittner Roth [Roth, Kathleen Bittner]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Zebra Books
Published: 2021-06-10T23:53:18+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

“Finished.” Lily placed her brush in the jar of linseed oil next to the portrait and took a step back. The image she’d painted of Bastien stared out at her through compelling blue eyes filled with the elusive emotion she’d been so keen on capturing. Exquisite heat coursed through her, tightened her breasts, and settled low in her belly.

She pulled a boudoir chair in front of the easel and sat. Wetting one corner of a cloth with the linseed oil, she went about the mindless task of cleaning her stained fingers whilst studying her completed piece, tilting her head this way and that, scrutinizing it from every angle.

“Definitely my best work,” she murmured. An imposing figure even on canvas, Bastien stood on the deck of the ship that had transported them to New Orleans. To her great satisfaction, she’d managed to capture his potent vitality, a rare and barely disguised force she’d not seen in other men—except perhaps his brother. While René was an impressive man in his own right, he did nothing to elicit the delicious, erotic tension Bastien always stirred in her.

His booted feet planted wide apart on the wooden deck gave him a commanding air, triggering memories that spoke volumes to her heart. His large hands were fisted on either side of his narrow hips, while his open, unbuttoned jacket exposed a snowy white shirt and gold brocade waistcoat against a flat stomach. Fawn-colored breeches sheathed long, muscular legs. Behind him, full sails billowed against a cloud-studded sky, and a light breeze teased strands of raven hair across his forehead. The sun’s rays filtering through a light haze created a nimbus around him. But, oh, those spectacular cobalt eyes rimmed in dark lashes—they appeared to bore straight into her, transmitting a mysterious raw emotion he’d not been quick enough to mask.

A wave of longing washed through her. She pressed a hand to her heart as if doing so might suppress its heightened beat. It had turned out that the charcoal drawing she’d previously sketched of him had been little more than practice for this almost life-sized portrait. What a wonderful surprise when Felice marched into Le Blanc House dragging this large canvas behind her, something she’d finagled from a reclusive artist she knew.

Lily let go a sigh. Had painting Bastien’s portrait been prompted by some deep, soulful yearning for him? Something akin to melancholy gripped her. She wouldn’t be in New Orleans for long. And upon her departure, the most enigmatic man she’d ever known would become little more than a memory. Well, wherever she was meant to end up, this likeness of him would go with her.

She would hang it in her bedchamber.

For her eyes only.

A small ache pinched her heart. Bastien had been gone nearly a month. Felice told Lily not to be concerned, that he’d disappeared in the past for longer periods. Nonetheless, Lily worried.

Even though she’d never once inquired as to his whereabouts, and even though she was supposedly married, everyone—Régine, Vivienne,

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