The Master and The Muses

“I miss him like the devil when he’s gone,” Thomas said quietly.

He sighed and wrapped his arms around my shoulders, resting his chin on my head.

“It’s just you and me now, Helen. He’s gone and left us behind while he trots off on a new adventure.”

“Does he take these trips often?” I asked. The warmth of Thomas’s arms made me feel secure. It was his nature to be physical—he was prone to giving hugs and pecks on the cheek, even to the other men in the brotherhood.

He lifted aside my unbridled hair and nuzzled the sensitive spot beneath my ear.

“When the spirit moves him. I prefer to find my inspiration closer to home.” The smell of wine wafted beneath my nose as his palm moved over my right breast, squeezing gently.

“Are you inspired, my muse?” he whispered against the curve of my neck.

I slipped from his grasp. “The light is waning, Mr. Rodin.”

“I have asked that you call me Thomas,” he said with quiet firmness.

“All right, Thomas. Still, if you wish to do more this afternoon before I leave—”

“Oh, yes, my muse. I would love to do more.”

“I’ve no doubt you would, Thomas. Do you think I am so innocent that I do not know your reputation?”

He looked at me curiously. “I think you pretend not to know how you affect me, Helen.”

“I do think, Thomas, that you have found your inspiration much too easily in the past.”

His smile grew wide. “Aha! My innocent little muse has a cunning side, as well.”

“I am not worldly, it is true, but I do know a rogue when I see one.”

“A rogue?” He held his hand to his heart. “Woman, you wound me with your words far too romantic for a man like me. A man, as you say, of my reputation.”

“Perhaps I should take my leave for the afternoon.” I turned away and he grabbed my arm.

“My apologies, Helen. I had no idea that my affections would be repulsive to you.”

“You are not repulsive to me, Thomas, nor are your affections. But do not think that because I am here, you may take advantage of the situation.”

“I see. You are a woman who prefers to be wooed, is that it?” He stepped around me, blocking my escape back into the studio.

“I am a woman with needs, innocent though you think me to be.” I faced him.

His gaze narrowed and he took my chin between his fingers.

“Those dark circles—your complexion is pale. Helen, what is the matter? What ails you?”

His immediate change in topic and manner scattered my thoughts.

“I am not sleeping well,” I admitted.

He pulled me into his embrace and laid his cheek on the top of my head.

“You must learn to trust me, Helen. When you are unhappy, I am unhappy.”

“I don’t see myself through your eyes, Thomas.”

“Then I will have to do better at showing you how important you are to me.”

He smoothed his hands up and down my spine, and I welcomed this tender gesture. “You have been good to me, Thomas.”

“I could be much more, Helen, if you’d allow.”

His concern for my health prompted me to admit my worry regarding my employer. “I cannot keep lying, Thomas. I fear I will lose my job, or worse, Madame Tozier will go to my mother and ask her about my health.”

He frowned. “Neither she nor your family realize that you’ve been posing for me?”

I sighed. “Not everyone is as enamored of the brotherhood as you may like to think.”

He chuckled. “You needn’t remind me.” His eyes drifted over my shoulder as if deep in thought. “Then we shall go see this Madame Tozier and teach her to adore the brotherhood,” he said finally.

I laughed softly. “Do you honestly think that you can make a difference?”

“Go get dressed. I’ll order us a carriage.” He smiled. “Oh, wait, do you need any help?” he called after me.

“I can manage getting dressed on my own, Thomas, thank you,” I tossed back, but the smoky color of his eyes, the intimate way that he had touched me, lingered in my mind. As I dressed in his bedroom, I looked around, trying to get a clearer picture of my mysterious employer. He lived in an unkempt state and I often wondered if he hired a maid to come in and tidy up after him, but I had never seen one when I was there. I assumed that he ate out, as I’d not seen a cook either. He seemed, however, to have an endless supply of tea, wine and raspberry scones on hand. His bed was unmade, the sheets rumpled, and my mind flashed with the image of Thomas sprawled across it, his nude body draped with a careless covering. Need welled inside me. Having once tasted the precious honeyed bliss, my body craved it. I hurried to finish dressing and remove myself from the temptation of my imagination.

“Thank you, Madame Tozier, for your contribution to the arts,” Thomas said. “We’ll be certain to credit the lovely hat that Helen holds in the painting to your generosity.”

As he had predicted, Thomas had managed to charm my employer, reducing her to a blushing admirer.

Thomas placed his delicate teacup on the plate he held.

“I will be visiting Miss Bridgeton’s family as soon as we have a painting to give them. I must say it is refreshing to find a noted person in the community who appreciates the importance of the arts. Art is what differentiates us from the animals, don’t you agree, Madame Tozier?”

“Oh, yes, I do agree, Mr. Rodeen.” Her smile was demure. “We must educate the unfortunate souls who do not understand such things.”

I glanced away, covering my smile with my napkin. Thomas was openly charming, a shrewd businessman and, as he made no qualms in saying, he usually got what he wanted. A shiver ran through me, remembering his hand on my breast. What more did Thomas want from me? I chose to set those questions aside for the moment and simply be grateful that some of my guilt had been lifted from my shoulders. I had him to thank for that.

“Thomas, did you mean what you said about giving my family a portrait of me?” I asked later as we rode back to the ferry where I would catch my ride home.

He took my hand, patted it and rested it on the top of his thigh. “I needed to gain Madame Tozier’s trust, Helen. I had to make certain she would not trot off to tell your family all about us herself. By entrusting her to keep it our little surprise, she will keep our confidence.”

“So, in short, you lied?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I prefer to think of it as stretching the truth, quite harmlessly. Perhaps we can take them a portrait someday. Would that be so awful?”

The image of my papa raising his gun to the sky and giving a single warning shot emerged in my head. “Perhaps we should wait a little longer before we tell my family,” I said, as my stomach began to bother me again.

“Tilt your chin down. Now lift your eyes…good…there. Hold that look—perfect.”

I held my gaze steady on a spot of light shimmering over Thomas’s shoulder. Being his muse was a much more daunting task than I had imagined. When he noticed my stress, he would break into song and dance me about the studio until I was in better spirits. On occasion, he would take me to the pub to dine with others in the brotherhood, but although I tried to fit in, I found myself preferring to be alone with Thomas at the studio.

Several letters had arrived from William, always addressed to Thomas. He indicated that he was having a splendid time in Rome and hoped all was well back home. Never once did he ask about me, specifically. That single afternoon with William began to fade, replaced by the colorful moments I spent with his brother.

“Do you wish to discuss something with me, Helen?” Thomas asked, wiping his fingers on his paint rag.

“I’m sorry, Thomas, I’ll do better.” I shifted, straightening my spine.

“Is it your monthly?”

I suppose that by now, I should have been more used to his frank manner, but today it surprised me. I’d never spoken to anyone other than my mother on that subject. “No,” I uttered in haste, averting my eyes and feeling foolish.

Thomas knelt before me, taking my hands in his. The warmth of his concern flowed through me. There was kindness in his eyes that put me at ease.

“It is natural, Helen. What kind of man would I be if I were not sensitive to these things? Many women have posed for me. I would be a thickheaded boob if I did not understand.”

“I have not been sleeping well. I have bouts of insomnia, but it will pass.”

He studied me and then slapped his knee. “You need the fresh air and sunshine of the country.”

He smiled up at me, his eyes twinkling. I thought that he meant we should visit my family at last, and now, faced with the reality of it, I wasn’t sure if I was ready just yet. “Oh, I could not face my family today, Thomas. Perhaps next week when I’m better rested.”

He nodded. “Very well, we won’t go to see your family, as you wish. We’ll take a ride. I know! We’ll have a picnic! It’s a lovely day for it. We need to get some color in your face.”

He pulled me to my feet.

“Go change and meet me out front.”

Although I considered asking whether I might instead lie down for a while, I knew that once Thomas made up his mind he was not easily deterred.

The carriage ride was indeed relaxing. We spoke little, enjoying the view, silent in our private thoughts. Once or twice I caught Thomas looking at me and we would share a friendly smile. Since our conversation on the balcony, he’d not made any further advances. I often wondered, knowing the healthiness of his sexual appetite, how he was satisfying his cravings.

Thomas tapped the driver with his cane and we came to a stop by a small grove of willow and oak trees.

“You’re welcome to go up to the house, good man. You’ll find a well there to water your horses. I’ll fetch you when we’re ready.”

He grabbed a small basket and stepped down, holding his hand out to me. “Come on, I want to show you the grounds.”

“Will the owners mind us traipsing around the property?” I asked, noting a small cottage in the distance.

“It belongs to the brotherhood.” He offered his hand to help me down.

Thomas continued to hold my hand, guiding me through the knee-length grass. Overhead, the sun shone in a brilliant blue sky. I breathed deeply. The setting was beautiful and it reminded me of the places I had played as a child. “The brotherhood? What would the brotherhood need with all of this land?” I asked, ducking beneath the low-hanging branches of the willow trees as best I could. One snagged my bonnet, pulling it away from my head.

Thomas laughed and reached up, loosening my coppery hair and causing it to spill over my shoulders. He stopped, holding my hat in his hand, and fingered my hair. “Breathtaking,” he said, taking a strand and brushing it over his cheek. “You have a natural beauty that few women can boast of, Helen. You should embrace it with great confidence.”

We sat beneath a willow, lunching on fresh peaches and cheese, bread and wine. He tore a loaf of bread and offered me a taste.

“We’ve talked about building a communal studio.” He stood and shook off his coat.

“What?” I asked, swallowing the bread without properly chewing it. I washed it down with a large gulp of wine. “Why would you want to leave the studio? Would you all live here together?”

Thomas stretched out on his side, crossing his long legs, and propped himself up on his elbow. “It’s the perfect solution, really. Sharing props, easels, paints—”

“Models?” I asked, feeling a tinge of jealousy.

He leveled his gaze on me. “That has always been the way of it. From the formation of the brotherhood—we share and share alike.”

“I do not think I like the idea, Thomas.” I tipped back my glass and finished off the wine. I sensed it warring with my medicine, causing my tongue to loosen.

“Because you are uncomfortable around the brotherhood?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t think they like me, Thomas. I hear their whispers when I don’t laugh at their lewd jokes.”

“Lewd? Why, Helen, I never took you for a stick-in-the-mud.”

I paused from filling my cup, my ire rankled. “I am no such thing, I assure you. I simply prefer different company.” I took another sip of wine and bit into a ripe peach. The juice dribbled past my lips and trickled down my chin before I could catch it with my fingers. Tiny droplets landed on the flesh exposed above my bodice.

I watched his eyes follow the liquid. A slow throbbing tugged betwixt my legs.

“And whose company do you prefer, Helen, if not that of the brotherhood?”

His gaze flicked up to mine and I swallowed. Beyond the sound of my breathing was the din of nature—the buzzing, the chirping and the chattering.

“I prefer when it is only you and me, Thomas,” I confessed, unable to take my eyes from his.

“And why on earth would you have the desire to be alone with the likes of me?” His grin was tempting, as he intended it to be, I am certain.

“Do not think I am like Annie, Thomas,” I warned, pointing my finger at him.

He caught my hand, turning it so that the peach dropped to the ground. Then one by one, he drew my fingertips into his mouth, sucking off the juice.

“Believe me, Helen. You and Annie are nothing alike.”

“Do not mock, me, Thomas. True, I am not as free and easy as Annie is. I have not perfected the art of flirting with a man.” I pushed to my feet, humiliated…no, insulted that he did not know me well enough to understand. I pressed my hands against the tree, shielding my face from his view. He touched my shoulder.

“Helen, I wasn’t mocking you,” he said. “Turn around and talk to me.”

I faced him, my heart pounding with my wounded pride, determined that I would speak my mind. “I admit that in many ways I am innocent. Surely by comparison to your other muses, you must think me but a country nitwit.”

“Helen, of course not.” He smoothed his hand over my cheek. “You misunderstood what I said.” He smiled down at me. “No, my sweet Helen. You—”

He kissed my forehead.

“—are so much more—”

His mouth drifted to my eyelid, to my cheek, and hovered over my mouth.

“—fascinating.” He brushed my lips, teasing, until I leaned forward to meet his mouth. I tasted the wine on his lips, his tongue, as they melded with mine.

I was glad for the firm support of the tree against my spine. My fingers dug into the bark as he left a trail of warm, wet kisses down my throat.

“On the contrary, Helen—” his hot breath seared my flesh “—I find you utterly beguiling.”

My eyes floated shut and William briefly crossed my mind. But Thomas’s kisses, deep and thorough, left me breathless, dissolving what was left of his brother in my heart.

“William was right in choosing you,” he whispered. “He knew I would be infatuated.”

He held my face, his thumbs stroking the tender spot beneath my jaw.

“Is it wrong for me to feel this wicked, Thomas?” I reveled in how it felt to have someone desire me, to know that I was capable of giving back pleasure.

“Do you wish to feel wicked, Helen?” he asked.

“Yes, Thomas. Teach me.” I surrendered to his arduous attention, tired of carrying around my burdensome concerns. He reached around me, working at the buttons of my gown. I smoothed my hands along his strong forearms, my fingers sliding through his as I drew his hands between us. I looked up at him. “Teach me how to please you.”

He searched my eyes. “Very well, muse. As you wish.”

He held my curious, hungry gaze, as he peeled off his cravat and proceeded to unbutton his shirt.

My heart thrummed unsteadily as piece by piece he took off his clothing until he stood fully naked before me. He took my hands and pressed them against his muscled torso.

“Touch me, Helen. Satisfy your curiosity.”

He remained statuesque as I walked around him, stopping to rake my fingers over the sinewy muscle of his shoulders. His firm buttocks clenched as my fingers lightly trailed over his hips. I leaned my cheek to his sturdy back, bringing my arms around him. He was a beautiful man, if men can be described in such terms.

I smoothed my hands over his hard stomach, smiling as he stiffened to my curious touch, then wrapped my fingers lightly around his rigid cock.

He drew in a sharp breath.

“Does this please you?” I asked, skimming my palms over his body, taking luxurious time with my exploration.

He whirled to face me, pushing his hands under my breasts, sliding his mouth roughly over mine. Then he covered my hand with his and guided me back to his erection, capturing my mouth again in a heated kiss.

I moved my fingers over the hard ridges of his phallus, my thumb delicately skimming across the velvety tip.

“Do you wish to please me even more?” he asked, lifting my chin to meet his heated gaze.

I licked my lips and nodded.

He held my shoulders, easing me down to my knees in front of him. His erect cock jutted proudly from a soft patch of dark hair.

I looked up and received his nod. I eased my hand along his warm length, watching as his eyes drifted shut. Empowered, I leaned forward to kiss the glistening tip.

“That’s it, my muse.”

He stroked my neck, his fingers deftly skipping over my chin. “You are good to me.” His guttural moans spurned me on. Something inside me yearned to harness the power of this man, his authority, his leadership in the brotherhood, and to watch him unravel before my eyes.

His hand covered mine, guiding my stroke, showing me the secret spot at the base of his cock that made him cry out with pleasure.

A sharp, bitter taste appeared on my tongue and I drew back, standing as I wiped my mouth. Thomas turned away, his hand working rapidly, his breath catching as he cast his face heavenward and emptied his seed on the grass. The firm muscles of his buttocks clenched and unclenched with the fierceness of his release.

I stared at his backside, mesmerized by the hard, angled plane of his body. He looked over his shoulder and I averted my eyes, ashamed to intrude on his privacy.

He came to me and took my hand, bringing it to his lips.

“You should see your face, blushed with color, with yearning.”

“Yearning?” Of course, I knew what he meant. I took a deep breath and moistened my lips. My body teetered on the precipice, ready to fall apart.

“Oh, yes,” he whispered, bending down to grab my skirts, lifting them higher as he backed me against a tree. His eyes sparked with arousal. “Your turn.”

Without pretense he slipped his hand down the front of my thin cotton drawers, his long fingers parting my drenched folds.

My breath caught as he parted me, dipping into my warm crevice, stroking long and slow as I held his sinful gaze. I grasped his shoulders as my body tightened, his smiling face hovering over mine.

“There now, let go, my muse,” he whispered against my mouth.

I shut my eyes to the exquisite pleasure that coursed through my veins, awakening every nerve ending. Thomas kissed me, his masterful fingers summoning each delicious spasm from me.

“Live with me,” he said, releasing my skirts. He raised his hand to his mouth, tasting my juices. “I do not want to be away from you ever.”

I was smitten with his request, but I knew to say yes to him would mean banishment from my family.

“As lovers?” I did not expect anything more from Thomas.

“As my muse,” he responded, kissing me passionately.

“What will people say?” I asked.

He shrugged. “If they must pry, then I shall simply tell them that you are my new pupil.”

He dropped to his knees and drew me into his embrace.

“Do not make me wait another moment for your answer, Helen. It is sheer torture!”

I laughed, something I hadn’t done in weeks, it seemed. “Very well, but I warn you, my skills in the kitchen are limited.”

He looked up at me and grinned. “My sweet muse, it is not your skill in the kitchen that interests me.”

I held his face and smiled. It was a heady thing to have the devoted attention of a man like Thomas. I wondered if he’d ever had a model living at the studio before, and I considered how William might respond to the news. Could I wait forever to find the happiness I deserved? With Thomas at my side, I had no need for anyone else.

Chapter Six

THOMAS DUCKED AS MY PAPA HURLED THE painting across the room, barely missing the top of his head. My mama shoved my sisters into the back bedroom and closed the door. My portrait lay splintered on the floor and I knew it would soon be firewood.

“You have scarred my little girl—” Papa started, his face turning purple with rage.

“Papa, I am no longer a little girl—”

His eyes, full of anger, turned to me and he raised his finger, shaking it with fury. “You have lied to your family, Helen. Your deception is not a small matter—it is unforgivable.”

“Papa, please—” He cut me off with his upturned hand. I turned to Mama, pleading for her to make him understand.

She stood to the side, wringing her hands with worry, but she did not come to my defense.

“Mr. Bridgeton, I assure you that Helen has been treated very well…”

“Do not,” Papa bellowed, “speak in my house!”

“Papa, please try to at least be decent to our guest,” I said.

“Decent?” His voice rose and my mama covered her mouth with her apron. “Do not talk to me about decency.” He glared at me and then at Thomas, and headed for the door, his jaw set firm. He stopped long enough to grab his hat. “I am going to the barn. I don’t wish to find either of you here when I return.”

A quiet, strangled sob tore from my mama’s throat. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. Papa did not look back as the door slammed behind him.

Had I truly believed they would understand or support my decision? There was nothing more to be said. I stood and brushed past Mama as I went into my room to collect a few of my things.

My sisters, Beth and Rosalind, peeked out of their room and I stopped to hug them both. I handed my bag to Thomas who waited by the front door.

“I’ll wait outside,” he said.

I gave Mama a brief hug, not knowing when or if I would see her again.

“Be well, Helen. Take your medicine.” She stroked my cheek, and I burned her leathery skin into my memory. As I walked to the carriage, I saw the light was on in the barn, which meant Papa was inside brushing the mare. It was what he always did when he wanted to think. I debated whether I should tell him goodbye.

Thomas seemed to read my mind.

“Do you need a moment?” he asked, holding open the carriage door.

I took one last look over my shoulder, drinking in the tiny cottage with its slanted roof and peeling paint, the sagging porch that Papa kept meaning to fix. “No, let’s go,” I said, getting into the carriage.

I leaned back against the soft, cushioned seat and stared out the window at the familiar rolling landscape. I hoped against hope that my parents would have a change of heart, knowing I would not make a decision of such consequence without careful thought. However, in my family’s world, women were still considered inferior in many ways, expected to be content serving the men in their lives, and I knew deep down that they would never understand.

Thomas took my hand and brought it to his lips. “I will take care of you, my muse. I don’t want you to worry. We are your family now, the brotherhood and me.”

I looked at him and wondered if I was really gaining my freedom or simply trading the men that I served.

Thomas took me to his bed that night, soothing my pain with his tenderness, turning my concerns to pleasured sighs. I surrendered myself body and soul to him, something I’d been reticent to do before. If this was servitude, then I welcomed it for the luxurious power that I felt in my decadence.

My fingers curled around the bedrail and I welcomed the pain of my knuckles tapping against the wall with the increased motion of Thomas’s fervent thrusts. His long hair swayed, brushing over my flesh, and his eyes penetrated my soul, claiming my body, making me want to give back, to meet his challenge. I arched toward him and he caught my mouth in a searing, possessive kiss, demanding my climax—my loyalty. Crying out his name, I gave him everything and, in return, he gave me all that he could give. It was enough…for now.