and apologetically interrupted them.
“Excuse me, Miss Banner, Mr. Stewart. Mr. Clairmont wonders if the two of you would join him in the library.”
As they turned toward that room, Rory said suddenly, “That reminds me—whatever happened to that book you were going to let me read?”
Shifting her mind to unimportant things, Banner shrugged. “I looked for it the other day, but couldn't find it. Maybe Jake knows where it is.”
“Well, it's not important,” he said, unconsciously echoing her thoughts. “I just wondered.” He halted before opening the library door and carried her hand to his lips. “Trust me,” he added in an entirely different voice.
Banner went into the library as he released her hand and opened the door, wondering why she could never answer a simple yes to that plea. It wasn't as if she didn't want to ….
Two men rose from their chairs as she and Rory entered the room, her grandfather and another man who had introduced himself to her yesterday as a friend of Jake's. His name was David Moore, and he was a silver-haired, sharp-eyed man of about Jake's age.
“Banner,” her grandfather began, “you and Rory have met David, haven't you?”
“Yesterday,” Banner agreed, watching Moore and Rory shake hands; the older man seemed amused, and there was a tiny frown on Rory's face. Before she could think about that, Jake was waving them to chairs and going on briskly.
“David was asking me about something, lass, but I think it's up to you to answer.”
She looked enquiringly at the other man, who seemed a bit uncomfortable. “What is it, Mr. Moore?”
“First of all, Miss Clairmont, I have to apologize for invading your privacy.”
“In what way?” she asked, surprised.
“Well, yesterday during the party, I was wandering around the grounds and happened to stumble onto your little cottage in the woods.” His eyes gleamed with sudden wry laughter. “Being human, and curious, I looked in the window.”
“I see.” Banner smiled at him. “I could hardly not forgive human curiosity, Mr. Moore.”
“Thank you. And what I was asking Jake was whether or not he thought you'd allow me inside that cottage. I would very much like to take a closer look at the painting I saw yesterday.”
Banner was surprised, and it was her turn to be uncomfortable. “You'd be disappointed, I'm afraid. I'm just a hobbyist.”
“Still,” he said persuasively. “I'd like to see it.”
“And so would I,” Jake put in, giving Banner a very old- fashioned look. “From what David tells me, lass, you've been hiding your light under a bushel.”
Banner's eyes sought support from Rory, who merely said in a dry voice, “I've told you what I think of your work.”
“Which is?” Jake asked curiously.
“It's damned good.”
“May I see that portrait?” Moore asked again.
She shrugged helplessly. “Well, I suppose there's no reason why not. But please don't expect too much—whatever Rory says.”
But when the four of them stood in Banner'scottage studio contemplating her portrait of the blond gentleman, Moore didn't seem in the least disappointed. Chin in hand, he stared consideringly at the painting for a long moment.
“Did Rory sit for you?” he asked absently.
Something about the question bothered Banner, but she couldn't pin down exactly what it was. “No. It's ridiculous, I know, but I painted that purely from my imagination.”
He grunted softly, but made no other response to that. He merely said, “I'd like to look at more of your work.”
Puzzled and a bit uneasy, Banner assented. Rory helped her to take canvases from the stacks around the room. They leaned the paintings against the walls or furniture, so that they could be seen. It was Jake who spoke first.
“I'll be damned,” he said, oddly hushed. “Why didn't you show these to me, Banner?”
“After all… it's just a hobby, Jake. It isn't important.” She was increasingly bewildered, because none of the men seemed to
“Excuse me, Miss Banner, Mr. Stewart. Mr. Clairmont wonders if the two of you would join him in the library.”
As they turned toward that room, Rory said suddenly, “That reminds me—whatever happened to that book you were going to let me read?”
Shifting her mind to unimportant things, Banner shrugged. “I looked for it the other day, but couldn't find it. Maybe Jake knows where it is.”
“Well, it's not important,” he said, unconsciously echoing her thoughts. “I just wondered.” He halted before opening the library door and carried her hand to his lips. “Trust me,” he added in an entirely different voice.
Banner went into the library as he released her hand and opened the door, wondering why she could never answer a simple yes to that plea. It wasn't as if she didn't want to ….
Two men rose from their chairs as she and Rory entered the room, her grandfather and another man who had introduced himself to her yesterday as a friend of Jake's. His name was David Moore, and he was a silver-haired, sharp-eyed man of about Jake's age.
“Banner,” her grandfather began, “you and Rory have met David, haven't you?”
“Yesterday,” Banner agreed, watching Moore and Rory shake hands; the older man seemed amused, and there was a tiny frown on Rory's face. Before she could think about that, Jake was waving them to chairs and going on briskly.
“David was asking me about something, lass, but I think it's up to you to answer.”
She looked enquiringly at the other man, who seemed a bit uncomfortable. “What is it, Mr. Moore?”
“First of all, Miss Clairmont, I have to apologize for invading your privacy.”
“In what way?” she asked, surprised.
“Well, yesterday during the party, I was wandering around the grounds and happened to stumble onto your little cottage in the woods.” His eyes gleamed with sudden wry laughter. “Being human, and curious, I looked in the window.”
“I see.” Banner smiled at him. “I could hardly not forgive human curiosity, Mr. Moore.”
“Thank you. And what I was asking Jake was whether or not he thought you'd allow me inside that cottage. I would very much like to take a closer look at the painting I saw yesterday.”
Banner was surprised, and it was her turn to be uncomfortable. “You'd be disappointed, I'm afraid. I'm just a hobbyist.”
“Still,” he said persuasively. “I'd like to see it.”
“And so would I,” Jake put in, giving Banner a very old- fashioned look. “From what David tells me, lass, you've been hiding your light under a bushel.”
Banner's eyes sought support from Rory, who merely said in a dry voice, “I've told you what I think of your work.”
“Which is?” Jake asked curiously.
“It's damned good.”
“May I see that portrait?” Moore asked again.
She shrugged helplessly. “Well, I suppose there's no reason why not. But please don't expect too much—whatever Rory says.”
But when the four of them stood in Banner'scottage studio contemplating her portrait of the blond gentleman, Moore didn't seem in the least disappointed. Chin in hand, he stared consideringly at the painting for a long moment.
“Did Rory sit for you?” he asked absently.
Something about the question bothered Banner, but she couldn't pin down exactly what it was. “No. It's ridiculous, I know, but I painted that purely from my imagination.”
He grunted softly, but made no other response to that. He merely said, “I'd like to look at more of your work.”
Puzzled and a bit uneasy, Banner assented. Rory helped her to take canvases from the stacks around the room. They leaned the paintings against the walls or furniture, so that they could be seen. It was Jake who spoke first.
“I'll be damned,” he said, oddly hushed. “Why didn't you show these to me, Banner?”
“After all… it's just a hobby, Jake. It isn't important.” She was increasingly bewildered, because none of the men seemed to
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