Page 55 of A Figure of Love

“I—” she cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

He glanced out into the small corral area, his pupils narrowing against the sun. It was a warm day, the warmest yet this spring.

“It is a nice warm day for swimming.”

“No,” she said, suddenly seeing what he meant with painful clarity. “Absolutely not.”

“Yes.” He took out his watch and glanced at it. “It is just past eleven. I have a few matters to attend to but should be finished in an hour.” He replaced his watch. “It will be warmer in an hour, as well. Let’s say twelve o’clock, sharp.” He turned and strode from the stall.

Serena stared; he expected her to swim with him? The man must be mad!

∞∞∞

As it turned out, Mr. Lockheart had no intention of going swimming with her. When Serena arrived at the appointed time it was to find him seated on a blanket under a tree, with something that resembled a sketchpad beside him.

He turned as she approached, once again taking out his blasted timepiece. “Excellent, you are right on time.”

“I only came to tell you I have no intention of going swimming with you.”

“I have no intention of swimming with you, either.”

Her shoulders sagged and she gave a relieved laugh. “You kept such a straight face I could not tell that you were jesting. I should have guessed.”

“I wasn’t jesting, Mrs. Lombard. I never jest.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It is true. I’m afraid I don’t have the turn of mind required for humor. I only spoke the truth: I have no intention of swimming. I’ve come to sketch.” He gestured to the book, which she saw was a ledger, all he could find on short notice, she supposed.

“I cannot believe you are serious.”

“I’m very serious.”

“This is rather . . . biblical, isn’t it? An eye for an eye, and all that?”

He cocked his head, as if considering the matter. “Yes, I suppose you could call it that.”

She placed a fist on each hip. “What would you call it?”

“Not revenge, certainly. Payment, perhaps.”

“Payment?”

“I understand sculptors employ models, do they not?”

“Well. . . yes, but what does that have to do with this?” She gestured around them.

“You took my likeness but did not pay for it. I should like your likeness as payment.”

“Why don’t I simply pay you the standard hourly rate for models?”

His lips flexed into a slight smile. “Oh no, Mrs. Lombard, that is not the way this works.”

Serena was speechless, a condition she’d rarely experienced. She glared at him, and he stared coolly back.

Her eyes narrowed. “Very well. You want to see me swim? I will swim.” She marched toward the stream, waiting every second for him to call her back. But he didn’t. She stopped at the edge of the water and spun around. “Are you going to force me to do this?”

He gave an exaggerated shrug. “If you wish to wet your clothes rather than remove them, that is your prerogative.”