I hear a knock on the door followed by a deep male voice saying, "Miss Belerose, may I come in?"

Someone addresses me from the other side of the door. It must be him, the man Henry was talking about. His voice...There's something sinister about it. It piques my curiosity.

I reply in my practised French drawl, "It would be my pleasure to have you here, gentleman!"

I hear the door creaking open and then the loud uproar of the door closing back, follows.

He mutters something incomprehensible. I give an inward smile to myself.

He has that light Spanish undertone that captivates me.

"May I know the name of this gentleman who has been persisting to meet me?"

"It's Juan Garcia, miss."

"Juan." His name slides through my lips in a low purr.

I can feel his abrupt gaze on me. He stares at me; his intense watchfulness burning a hole into me. It unsettles me slightly.

"You have a very beautiful name, gentleman," I say, smiling slightly at him. I hope the direction of my focus is at him and not anywhere else. He shouldn't know my little secret.

"May I have the honour to know the name of this beautiful lady here?"

"Why, why, You may Mr. Garcia! It's Annelise."

"You have a very beautiful name, my lady. You are truly graced with God's bounty."

"Why, thank you, kind sir!" I blush at his compliment.

No one has ever told me that I looked beautiful. It felt good to hear it once and that too from a man's mouth.

"So now that we are done with the introductions, may I know the actual reason of your presence? While you answer that, you can move away from the doorway and make yourself comfortable. You can sit on the ottoman placed over there. Sorry for the inconvenience, I try not to be too obsessed with furnitures."

"Thank you and it's alright to be not to be too obsessed with furnitures." He chuckles lightly.

With hands on my hips, I reply, "Does something seem funny here, sir?"

"No Miss Belerose, it's nothing."

"It better be not because I don't like interactions that tends to lead onto funnier backgrounds."

"I'll keep that in mind. I had to discuss some-". He was going to say something when I being 'me' intervene him midsentence.

"I want to paint you. Will you let me? Will you be my muse for the night?" I ask him hesitantly.

"I-I- Why not, my lady."

He sounds astonished as if I asked him for his head!

I walk towards him, slowly and sensually, swaying my hips in the process. I stop when I feel that I'm standing too close to him.

His masculine scent drifts towards me tantalisingly, tormenting my senses.

"You will have to stop acting like a gentleman and lose your clothes."

I can hear him being surprised when he questions that 'What?' He doesn't complain further. He simply stands up and starts unbuttoning his shirt.

I can hear the buttons popping out and then the rustle of clothes.

He was going to sit when I stop him by holding his wrist, saying, "No! You must stand."

"Okay. Do I need to lose my breeches too?" He asks me. I can hear the slight nuance in his voice.

A blush creeps up my neck unnoticingly and I hide my face with my forearm.

"Sorry Miss! Embarrassing you was not my intention. I really apologise for it."

"Oh no! You don't have to apologise."

I move even closer to him. I can feel the strong length of his legs brushing mine. Raising my right hand I touch him. Something soft and silky meets my palm and I realise that it's his hair; smooth and satiny.

He exhales softly and his breath fans over my face. I feel him moving his face closer to my touch.

I trace a finger along the contours of his eyes. I run a finger along his chiselled jaw and feel the prickles of his stubble.

My finger moves out of it's own accord. I draw my index down his finely toned chest, then further down. Warm sleek muscles corrupts my thoughts.

I close my eyes and feel him, trying to paint a picture of him in my mind.

"My lady." His softly spoken words wake me up from my transfixed foggy state.

I move towards the easel and settle down in my hassock. "Please sit here so that I can have a clear undisturbed view," I say, indicating to my left.

I'll have to keep up the pretence of being a sightful woman.

He drags the ottoman along with him and settles down.

I wish I could see him, even for once if it has to be.

This feeling of not being able to see anyone frustrates me to the point where I lose my mind completely.

How can I create such beautiful paintings when I'm not able to see them?

If the miniaturist can't see her exquisite delineation then no one can ever...No one!

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Bonjour! My lovely readers. Hope you thoroughly enjoyed the chapter 😊.

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Loversgonewild