Chapter 67 - Paints

Every word that came from Calhoun's mouth made her question and doubted if he found out about her meeting with another man who she shared a liking towards. If James was not going to show up in the castle again, it meant he was going to be safe. At least that is what she wanted to believe for now because she couldn't stop worrying- especially with the words that were leaving Calhoun's lips.

He took the empty glass from her hand and asked, "More?" and she shook her head.

"No," she answered to see him place the glass on the table.

"You should feel fortunate that the King takes such good care of you. Not everyone gets a glass of water to drink that is poured by the King," stated Calhoun, walking back to her, and Madeline stood where she was as if her feet were glued to the ground. Was his hand made of glass that he was speaking like that? thought Madeline to herself. She knew the value of the King who held the crown on his head, "What do you think about it?" he asked, poking at her.

"Very fortunate, my King," she bowed her head.

Calhoun said, "I sense zero sincerity in those words of yours," and Madeline bit the inside of her lips to stop herself from commenting something she was not supposed to, "Have you ever painted before?"

She saw him walk towards one of the paintings, and when he looked at her over his shoulder, Madeline was quick to walk to where he was. Standing not next to him, but one step behind to look at the painting which she hadn't found time to look at before as she had been interrupted.

"I was never given the opportunity to paint, my King," she had seen some of the paintings in the church that she often liked to sit down and admire, looking at the different bursts of colours that were put into a single frame.

Calhoun moved his eyes towards the girl who stood next to him, and he took a step back so that he could admire her better. Her features were dainty, her body petite but having the right amount of curves where it was needed. But it was those brown eyes that had his attention. Even during the day of the Hallow, he had seen her staring at the paintings and walking past one after another that had led her away from the crowd and to him. He could tell that she was fascinated by the art that was put up in the castle.

She tore her gaze away from the frame that was in front of them to look at him, "Are all these done by you?"

"Hmm," he hummed in response.

"All?" Madeline asked in doubt.

"No, I stole them from an artist," he deadpanned at her, and she gave him an awkward smile.

It was just surprising that Calhoun had drawn more than just the landscapes because there were villages and the people in there like the paintings that were of the local market, "They are beautiful," she praised. He stared at her as if he weren't expecting her to compliment his artistic skill.

Madeline noticed Calhoun's gaze on her, and she went to look at his paintings, seeing the little details while wondering how Calhoun had captured everything in a piece of canvas delicately. It was hard to believe that the King would have stepped in any place that was crowded, which was possibly considered to be filthy by the rich men.

She then carefully shifted her eyes to see the man who was still looking at her. When their eyes met, she heard him say,

"I want to paint you."

If Madeline were drinking water at the time when he said this, she would have splattered the water out of her mouth, but luckily she wasn't, and she gulped.

"What?" she asked, unsure if she heard him right.

Calhoun said, "You ruined one of my paintings because of your careless legs and hands, bumping into one. It is only right you repay me with what is lost," he looked serious, his dark red eyes locking on her.

Madeline frowned, "It was a mistake." Was he seriously expecting her to lay down as in the painting to turn herself into his muse? He had already gone far enough by painting her in such a state that she couldn't even speak to someone about it as it was already too mortifying.

"Do you think I am someone on the street that you can bump into and say sorry, Maddie?" asked Calhoun. She sure knew he wasn't any man but wasn't this going too far? He then stepped closer to her, "The night I met you, I could not get you out of my head. I wanted to see you the same night, but I knew you needed to sleep and dream about me."

Hearing this, Madeline's eyes widened. His words were nothing but to tease her but seeing her expression, a crooked smile appeared on his lips, "You dreamt about me," he sounded happy, but only Madeline knew that she had woken up with sweat on her forehead.

"I didn't," she denied not wanting to feed his ego or fantasy.

"You're not a good liar," he tsked and then continued to say, "I didn't want to steal you right away, so I came here and captured you in the painting. It took me quite some time to finish it and look what you did now."

"I am here now," she whispered. Her honest, yet innocent answer made Calhoun want to drag her to his room and do things he had wanted to do to her.

Calhoun then raised his hand towards her hair. For a moment, Madeline was worried, and she closed her eyes until she felt him pull a piece of her blonde hair in between his fingers, to feel the length and softness of it. She then opened her eyes to hear him say,

"Yes, you are here, but that doesn't mean I don't want to..." he left his words hanging in the air for her to fill, a wicked grin appearing on his handsome face.