Page 31

“You must have been hungry, angel?” Jacob inquired, nodding to my plate as I placed my cutlery down, having demolished every last morsel.

A hint of embarrassment flickered over me. I hadn’t exactly been ladylike while eating; my mother would have been most disappointed. “Yes, I was.” I gave him a small smile before adding, “Wallace made pea soup for lunch, and I don’t want to seem ungrateful, but I hate pea soup. Do you think you could ask him not to make it for me again?”

Jacob didn’t reply, choosing to take a mouthful of his wine before making a hmm noise and changing the subject. “Tell me about the drawing you’ve spent all afternoon doing?”

Ignoring the pang of disappointment at not getting pea soup removed from the menu, I let my mind wander to the art studio upstairs. What had started as a blank canvas was now the outline of the mainland in charcoal.

My gaze dropped to where my hands fidgeted in my lap, a wave of uncertainty rolling through me. My parents had never asked me about my drawings when I had been allowed to indulge. Come to think of it, I couldn’t remember any of my friends asking anything about my passion for art.

“Well, I’ve never drawn with charcoal before, so I thought I’d give it a try.” I shrugged, attempting to downplay how much I’d enjoyed my afternoon. “I think it’s looking okay so far, but I need to practice with the charcoal to get the shadows right.”

“Angel, look at me,” Jacob said softly. Raising my head and knowing that a rosy blush was covering my cheeks, I met Jacob’s eyes, a kind smile playing on his lips. “Why do you sound like you are ashamed of your work?”

I floundered in my attempt to find a reply. “I…uh, I guess no one has ever been interested in my drawings. Before my mother stopped me from doing any kind of art, she always used to say it was a waste of time, and anything I did draw, she never liked it.”

Jacob leaned forward, taking my hand from where I’d been tracing a finger around the bottom of my wine glass. “I don’t think it’s a waste of time, angel. I think it’s something that makes you happy and something you’re passionate about. Your mother might not have been interested, but I am. I always want to know what you’re working on.”

The familiar rush of warmth that I was becoming accustomed to poured through me. “Thank you.”

For several seconds, we stared at each other, my hand in his, and butterflies fluttering chaotically in my stomach, but the spell was broken when Wallace came in from the kitchen to clear our plates.

“Would you care for any dessert, angel?” Jacob asked.

“No, I’m full, thank you.” Truthfully, I could have had dessert, but I was hoping to return to my new studio to carry on with my drawing.

“No dessert for us, Wallace,” Jacob said, but as Wallace turned to head back to the kitchen, Jacob snagged his attention again. “Before I forget, the boat is moored at the jetty. I spilled a little tub of paint in it when I was bringing Charlotte’s art supplies over. Would you mind giving it a clean before I take it back tomorrow? The keys are on the kitchen side.”

Wallace bobbed his head and scarpered through to the kitchen, but my attention was firmly elsewhere…on the boat moored at the jetty.

Twenty-four hours ago, I would have been determined to figure out a way of sneaking the keys from the kitchen, worked out how to drive a speedboat, and gotten the hell off the island, but with the lure of the art supplies upstairs, I wasn’t as eager to leave.

Still, it didn’t hurt to find out a little more.

“How come there’s a boat here? I thought Johnston usually took it back to the mainland,” I asked, hoping I didn’t sound suspicious.

Jacob finished the remainder of his wine. “With all the art supplies I brought over from the mainland, there wasn’t room for Johnston on the boat.” He shrugged before wiggling his brows. “Besides, I like to take her for a spin on the odd occasion, and see how fast I can get her to go.”

“Does that mean you’ll bring it back again tomorrow?”

“No, Johnston will bring me back after I’ve finished my meeting.”

“Why don’t you keep it here instead of Johnston going back and forth?”

That flash of something—which I was beginning to think was annoyance or anger—flared in Jacob’s eyes before fading again. “I prefer it that way, angel. Are you ready to leave the table?”

“Oh, yes. Thank you,” I replied, once again disappointed at the abrupt change of topic. But with dinner over, I could go back to my drawing. “Would it be okay if I head back upstairs?”

Jacob dabbed his napkin against his lips before rising to his feet and holding his hand out to me. “Not tonight, angel. There’s something we need to do.”

I placed my hand in his and allowed him to pull me up, wondering what we needed to do. My curiosity only deepened when, instead of leading me outside for our usual evening walk, Jacob led me upstairs to our bedroom.

Nervous anticipation swirled in my stomach as my mind ran wild with thoughts of what was about to happen. Did Jacob want to take things further between us? Was I ready for that? What if he wanted me to give him oral sex like he’d been doing to me for the last week?

Closing the bedroom door behind us, Jacob released my hand. I hovered awkwardly, not knowing what to do with myself as he crossed to the bed and perched on the end of it. “Come here, angel,” he cooed, patting his knee.

My heart raced, and blood rushed through my veins so powerfully that I could hear it pounding in my ears. Hesitantly, I walked to him, his gaze burning into me like he was the hunter and I was his prey. When I neared him, he grabbed my hand, roughly tugging me forward and making me lose my balance.

Taking advantage of my stumble, and before my brain had time to process what was happening, Jacob yanked me down over his knee, my stomach pressing against his thighs, and my head hanging down so that my face was inches away from the floor.