Garden of May - Chapter 30
Chapter 30
“I’m touched that you found my fingers so delicious.”
With that, the wet towel dipped beneath her skirt. Vanessa bit her lip. The vulgar comment was one thing, but the rough feel of the towel as he firmly wiped her thighs… He easily subdued her struggles as his hand delved deeper.
She was dumbfounded by his impassive expression as he explored beneath her skirt. Vanessa gritted her teeth. If she made a sound, she knew exactly the kind of look she would receive. He would think of her as nothing more than a wanton woman. Perhaps he already did.
“Hngh.”
Vanessa gasped, barely managing to swallow the sound. This was no different from being with a rutting animal. The mere brush of his skin against hers made her acutely aware of him in that way.
Thankfully, the mortifying act ended quickly. After meticulously cleaning the last traces of dirt from her legs, he withdrew his hand with surprising detachment. “Rest. Don’t move around.”
He gathered the basin and towel and stood. The receding footsteps indicated he was going to empty the water. His manner was strangely solicitous, as if she were an invalid. It was both unsettling and comforting. She wasn’t feeling that unwell today. Vanessa stretched, enjoying the plush feel of the bed against her back.
River Ross wasn’t returning. Sleepiness began to creep in. After staring blankly at the ceiling, Vanessa abruptly sat up. She felt like she might actually fall asleep. She clumsily buttoned her blouse and smoothed out the wrinkles in her skirt. Unable to do anything with her tangled hair, she ran her fingers through it like a comb. A mirror would have been helpful. She gathered her hair in her hands, looked around, then gave up.
She remembered the sketchbook just as River Ross returned. He had apparently washed up; his neck and dark hair were damp.
“Want some?” he asked, placing a lukewarm pint of beer on the desk. The faint scent of sandalwood emanated from him. The more she saw him, the less she understood him.
His cologne, his carelessly discarded naval officer’s watch and fountain pen—they were all clearly expensive. Yet, he seemed to prefer cheap drinks and tobacco.
Perhaps the Duke of Batenberg treated his sergeant generously. Maybe he wasn’t inherently extravagant but received frequent gifts from noblewomen. With his looks, anything was plausible. Vanessa shook her head, dismissing the thought.
“No, thank you. I’d rather not smell of alcohol.”
“You’re of age.”
“That’s true, but… I’m not in the mood. Can I really look at your sketchbook?”
He readily nodded at her eager question. Vanessa excitedly untied the string that bound the book. A small lantern illuminated the increasingly dim storeroom. A gasp escaped her lips as she turned the first page.
It was a beautiful seabird with a long tail. The vividly depicted wings and feathers, the open beak, and outstretched legs were striking. The contrast of rough lines and smudged shading was captivating. Even to her untrained eye, it was remarkably impressive.
Careful not to smudge the drawing, she turned the page. The rough, yellowed pages, weathered by sea air, were filled with all sorts of subjects: an octopus crawling between rocks, a whale breaching the surface, bizarre deep-sea creatures she’d never seen before. A shark, baring dozens of teeth, seemed ready to rip through the page and lunge at her.
There were also depictions of sailors coiling ropes and maintaining cannons, and a dark, stormy sky. Vanessa quickly flipped past the sketches of naked sailors, their muscles rendered in stark detail.
As she turned the pages, the scenes shifted closer to land: a bustling harbor, a man waiting for a train, an old woman sewing, a woman holding a child, servants lighting their pipes, and even Mr. Ross, the gardener, digging in the earth. And on the very last page…
‘Who is this?’
There were only a few lines, as if he had started sketching someone’s profile but hadn’t finished.
