Page 13 of Things We Do for Love and Science
Jem scoffed and let go of him. “Anyway, the day after tomorrow then?”
“Excellent. Thanks again, and give my regards to Suzette.”
“Will do.” An eyebrow quirked. “Enjoy thepaintingsession.”
Gabriel elbowed him playfully in the ribs. “Eff off.”
Jem laughed, and together, they descended the scaffolding.
~ * ~
Delia parked her blueFiat Riva in front of the manor house. She pulled the key from the ignition but didn’t move. Her stomach churned. This was going to be awful.
She peered at herself in the rear-view mirror and said aloud, “Hey, Gabriel, do you mind stepping into that creepy vault again where you just buried your dad to open yet another coffin and fiddle with another ancestor skull? Surely that’s no biggie.”
She laughed joylessly at her reflection.Out of the car. Now.Before she lost her nerve and drove home instead.
Minutes later, she stood, straight and rigid, encased in silk, hemmed in between side table and the marble slab of the windowsill. There was never a good moment to bring this up. She should at least give him a good run of painting before she dropped the bombshell. Maybe he’d be so angry at the new request he’d abort their painting project then ask her to leave and never come back.
“Delia, are you tired? Should we postpone our sitting? Your posture is a little tense. You were more relaxed the other day.”
“Oh, no... It’s just that...” She hesitated and lowered her gaze, studying the folds of green and burgundy silk that flowed from her waist to the polished herringbone parquet. “I...hate to have to ask you but...”
He raised both eyebrows.
She forced herself to meet his gaze. “I...eh... My boss, Professor Winter, wants me to ask if we could get another sample...” The air between them froze. She swallowed. “I know we’re being terribly cheeky, and callous, and rude, and I’d never have agreed to ask...”
“If he didn’t have power over your career?”
She compressed her lips and gave an almost imperceptible nod.
“He did not get enough teeth, no?”
“He did, but now he wants... He wants some of Lord Edwin’s wife...Emmy.” Oh, if the ground could swallow her.
This was excruciating. She was exploiting Gabriel in some way; she wasn’t sure how exactly, but that was what it felt like.
“I’ll do it, Delia.” He turned his attention to the painting. “I’ll do it for you because you’re sacrificing your afternoons for me so I can play at being an artist again.”
“Thank you. I’m mortified, and I’m sorry.” She blinked unexpected moisture from her eyes. He was an angel and she up to her neck in his debt.
“Don’t be. Let’s forget about it for now.”
“I’ll help you,” she blurted out. “It’s the least I can do.”
He gave her an evaluating stare. “Are you sure? It’s not the most...ah...pleasant of activities.”
“That’s why I want to accompany you; it’ll make me feel less bad about the whole thing.”
“All right then.” Gabriel’s expression was calm and polite. “Do you mind if we continue?” He lifted his paintbrush.
Delia swallowed hard. Every muscle in her body was taut. She’d pissed him off, and now their budding friendship was down the drain.
“Shall I put on some music?” he asked after a while.
She curved her lips and tried to project cheeriness. “Sure. Classical if you have it. I find it too distracting to have the lyrics of some random song rolling around my brain for hours.”
“Any preferences?” He fixed her with an inquiring gaze.
