Dark Masterpiece (Serendipity Series 3) (11 page)

Feeling like someone was watching her, Evie
turned to look up toward the house. She spotted Traevyn standing on
his terrace like a lonely sentinel. His long, flowing hair blew
gently in the breeze. A shiver went through her. He always stood so
tall and proud, even though his shoulders carried such a heavy
burden. She raised her hand in a tentative greeting, wondering if
he could see her. Slowly, he raised his hand in return and she
shivered again.

What was it about him? What made her react
that way to him? She turned back to the scenery and frowned. There
was something about him she found so… Unnerving? Fascinating?
Alluring? Unimaginably sexy? She shook her head. What was the
matter with her? He was almost ten years older than her. And he was
issue-ridden. She snorted and turned to head back. She had serious
problems.

Evie started dinner as soon as she returned
to the house. She was running a little short on food so she cooked
steaks for Seth and Traevyn and used what was left of some chicken
for her meal. As she was setting the table, Seth came wandering in
and plopped into a chair with a yawn. “What’s for dinner?” he
asked.

“Steak and baked potato for you and Traevyn.
Fried chicken for me.”

He frowned. “Why are you eating something
different?”

“Just wanted to use it before it went
bad.”

Traevyn came in suddenly and made his way
toward the table. He was silent, as usual. Evie sat down and dished
up her food, trying not to pay too much attention to him. She
blinked in surprise when he sat down across from her. She and Seth
exchanged a confused look before she glanced up at Traevyn.

“May I join you two at the table tonight?” he
asked, his voice quiet.

“O—Of course,” Evie stammered. She met his
eyes and flashed him a warm smile.

“Good to have you, dude,” Seth put in.

Traevyn looked down and gave them his
trademark half-smile.

Dinner was quiet. There was no way around
that, but it made Evie feel good to know he was there. He had never
eaten with them before. It was customary for him to just heap his
plate and leave. It made her happy to think that maybe he was
beginning to enjoy their company. Maybe she had actually managed to
say something right the night before. That would be a first.

She was cleaning up when Traevyn came up
behind her and placed his hand gently on the small of her back.
“I’ve never told you how good of a cook you are,” he said. “Your
food is fabulous. I always look forward to dinner.”

Evie turned and looked up at him with a grin.
“Thanks, Traevyn.”

“I’ll clean up,” he offered. “You are not my
servant.”

She frowned. “It’s all right. You pay
me—”

“I pay you to clean once a week and cook one
meal a day. I do not pay you to wait on me like a common slave
while I sit on my throne. Not to mention the support you gave me
yesterday was going above and beyond the call of duty.”

She blushed and looked down, surprised he had
brought it up. “Oh, I—”

“Evie, go work on your drawings or something.
Please, just let me clean up. All right?”

She gazed up into his eyes and nodded.

He flashed a gentle smile and finished
clearing the table for her. It really was the least he could do
after losing it the night before. He expelled a deep sigh as he
recalled the way she had listened to him, how she had been so
compassionate and concerned.

Evie radiated a warm light
that he was unfamiliar with, an aura of gentleness surrounded by
fiery passion and spunk. She was bold and dynamic, yet could soothe
his wounded soul with little effort. It stunned him, and he even
found it a bit frightening. No one had been able to reach him since
Leanna had died and Amy had left him. No one but his brothers. He
let no one close enough to try. Evie seemed to see right past his
barriers and, somehow, she just knew. Knew how to touch him, knew
how to make him feel, even for one small second, that his heart was
beating again. He didn’t understand it, and he didn’t know what to
do with it. It terrified him.
She
terrified him, yet she intrigued him. It was a
paradox he couldn’t get away from.

Once he had finished in the kitchen, he went
to his studio to paint for awhile. He saw the painting he had
mutilated the night before, pocket knife still sticking out of it.
He sighed and removed the knife, setting it back on his desk where
it belonged. He winced as he remembered the words spoken to him the
night before. His heart ached at the absence of his daughter.
Persistent, ever-present. There was never any relief from it. It
was his curse.

He removed the marred canvas and pulled out
a new one. He painted. For four straight hours he painted. His
release. His passion. His emotions flowing onto the canvas. When he
had finished, he stretched, studied what he had done for a moment,
and headed out. It was eleven-thirty. Another day he had survived.
He went downstairs to get a glass of wine when he heard what
sounded like someone throwing up in the bathroom. He frowned and
turned down the hallway just as Evie stumbled out of the bathroom
looking pale and weary.

“Evie? Are you all right?”

She slumped against the wall and put her hand
over her stomach. “I think the chicken I ate may have already been
bad,” she grumbled. “I need to lie down.”

“Would you like me to get you anything?”

She shook her head, then seemed to turn a
shade of green and ran back toward the bathroom. Traevyn followed
after her without even thinking about it, and he knelt down next to
her. He pulled her hair back out of the way while she threw up and
ran his hand gently across her back. When it subsided, she slumped
down onto the floor and groaned.

“I just love praying to the porcelain god,”
she moaned.

He smiled a bit and stood to wet a
washcloth. He applied it to her forehead, smoothing her hair
back.

“This is humiliating,” she muttered.

“Nothing to be embarrassed about,” he
assured her. “If my stomach was turning inside out I would want
someone to help me.”

“Somehow I can’t see you ever wanting
anyone’s help in anything.”

He met her eyes briefly. “Everyone needs
help sometimes. There are just some circumstances that are more
difficult than others. Do you think you can stand?”

She gave a weary nod and let him help her
up. Her stomach must have roiled in protest because she
groaned.

“Let’s get you upstairs,” he suggested.

She shook her head. “No. I don’t want to
have to run all the way to the end of the hall every five minutes.
Just get me to the couch. I’ll watch television and try to distract
myself.”

He put one arm loosely around her shoulders
and guided her to the living room. “Here, sit down.” She obeyed and
he grabbed a blanket from a nearby chair. It was one of those soft
fleece ones, and he thought it might be comfortable to her. He
knelt and pulled off her shoes, then swung her legs up so she was
lying down. He placed the blanket around her and offered a small
smile. “Are you comfortable?”

She looked up at him, obviously amazed at
his consideration. “You must have been a very good dad,” she
murmured.

He averted his gaze, but the smallest of
smiles touched his lips. “Thank you,” he whispered.

She started to nod when her stomach
somersaulted. She flung the blanket off and bolted back down to the
bathroom. Traevyn didn’t follow, but when she managed to pull
herself together and shuffle back out into the living room, he was
waiting on the couch with a brush in his hand.

“Come here, Evie,” he invited. “Let me help
you with your hair.”

She eased herself onto the couch and turned
her back to give him access. “You can braid hair?”

“Have you seen the length of mine
lately?”

She smiled weakly. His gentle hands gathered
her thick mass of hair and he began to brush it. She closed her
eyes, enjoying the feeling. “You don’t have to do this,” she
murmured.

He sighed. “Evie, I am not going to leave
you to be miserable. What you did for me last night…” He let the
sentence hang, apparently unable to find words. “Just let me help
you, all right?”

She nodded and loved how his fingers moved
through her hair. He was so careful and gentle, not tugging or
pulling. Any knots were untangled with care and smoothed.

“You have lovely hair, Evie.”

She smiled. “Thank you. So do you. If I could
get my hair to look half as good as yours I would be one happy
girl. I know many women who would be jealous of your hair. How do
you get it so perfect? It doesn’t look like you have any split ends
at all.”

He gave a soft chuckle as he began to braid.
“I don’t really do anything to it aside from the usual. My father
is Cherokee. I suppose it might have something to do with
that.”

She nodded. So he
was
Native American.
That explained his dramatic facial features, as well as his last
name. “Is that why your hair is so long? Does it have something to
do with your heritage?”

He finished her braid and tied the end. “No,
I just look funny with short hair. It’s been long since I was
sixteen. My brother Julian has long hair also. Goes better with the
Whitelaw features.”

She turned to face him and gave him a meager
smile. She leaned back against the couch cushions and groaned as
her stomach protested the movement. “So, your brothers share your
Indian features?” she asked, trying to distract herself from the
bile rising in her throat.

“My brother Talis has the dark hair. Julian
has the features, but he took after my mother as far as his
coloring. He is very blond.”

She nodded. So those
were
his two brothers in
the pictures in his office. She would have to remember to take a
better look when she cleaned next. She grasped for the remote and
pulled the blanket up over her legs. Traevyn’s house got cold at
night with the ocean and the fog.

“Let me get you a glass of water,” he
offered.

She groaned and shook her head.

“You need to stay hydrated, Evie. Besides,
throwing up water is better than throwing up nothing.”

She remained silent. He had a point. Nothing
in the world was worse than dry heaves. As he went into the
kitchen, she started to turn on the TV, but quickly realized that
the worst was not over and booked it back to the bathroom.

She heard a light knock on the bathroom door
after several seconds and she eased herself onto the floor, leaning
against the wall. “Come in,” she croaked. She knew she had to be
ghastly pale, and she was exhausted.

Traevyn gave her a tender look as he
entered, wet the washcloth he had been using before and knelt in
front of her, applying it to her face again.

Evie watched him with curiosity. At times he
seemed so rough and cold. After shutting her out the night before,
she had expected him to go back to being aloof and icy towards her.
She had not expected him to treat her the way a long time friend
would. Not even Seth would have stayed in the bathroom with her
while she threw up. He might have been helpful in other ways, but
he would have lost it too if he’d actually been in the same room as
her digestive pyrotechnics. “Traevyn,” she croaked.

He met her eyes.

“Thank you.” She said it seriously. She
hated to be alone when she was sick. She always had. It was the
worst feeling in the world. The fact that he was taking care of her
meant more to her than she could express at the moment.

Traevyn gave her a gentle smile and set the
washcloth on the sink. “Come on,” he urged, holding his hand out to
her. “Let’s get you back to the couch where you can rest.”

Evie put her hand in his and let him help
her up, but she slumped against him without meaning to. She was so
tired. She felt like she had turned inside out. His arm came to
wrap around her shoulders, and he guided her back into the living
room. He placed the blanket over her once more, then stood back.
“Did you want to watch television?”

“I guess,” she grumbled.

He handed her the remote, but still
remained. He was uncertain of how to proceed. He felt awkward and
stupid. He knew he should leave her in peace and return to his
room, but she looked so small and frail lying on the couch all
alone. It dawned on him that he didn’t like seeing dynamic Evie
small and frail. She had shown him nothing but kindness, despite
his abhorrent behavior. He couldn’t bring himself to leave her all
alone. He sighed. “May I keep you company?”

She glanced up at him. “If you don’t mind
having a vomit faucet as a companion.”

He smirked and sat on the end of the couch.
Without even really thinking, he took one of her feet and began to
gently rub it.

Evie frowned. “What in the world are you
doing?”

She sounded more perplexed than anything.
She probably thought he was trying to give her a heart attack on
top of her food poisoning. He wouldn’t be surprised if she
suspected that he really just wanted to kill her so he’d be rid of
her once and for all. Massaging someone’s feet was somewhat
intimate, and it definitely wasn’t a practice he made a habit of
doing. He actually felt slightly embarrassed, but he tried to hide
it. He was acting on pure instinct and trying not to think too much
about it. Thinking just made him analyze, which made everything
seem more complicated than it needed to be.

“Do you know reflexology?” he asked.

“I know of it.”

“Every part of the body is supposed to be
represented by different parts of the foot,” he replied.

“You know where my stomach is?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Well no, but I
figured if I tackled the whole thing I’d hit it sooner or
later.”