A Christmas Romance in the Scottish Highlands (Scottish Highlands #6)

Chapter 11

11

ELLA

‘Did you get a chance to talk?’ Henry asked eagerly as soon as Alex and Ella had made their way back into the studio with the dogs. Ella watched as Alex pulled off his coat and gloves and began to shiver all over again.

‘Aye.’ Ella nodded as she eased off her coat, still watching the younger man who was now rubbing his arms and large hands, trying not to give in to her growing awareness in case she embarrassed him. She wanted to offer him a blanket but suspected he’d be offended. She couldn’t figure out why, but Alex being cold made her feel unexpectedly protective.

Something between them had changed since their conversation by the van. Ella had been surprised by Alex’s competence – she’d made some assumptions about him since they’d met, and it was clear she might have to rethink at least some of them.

In turn, he seemed to have grown more relaxed around her since their chat. He’d waited patiently by the front door of Pinecone Manor while she’d taken off her boots and had even offered to carry Wyatt’s lead when she’d unclipped it. Although he’d also commented on what a ridiculous colour it was.

From what Ella had surmised from their first meeting, she would have expected Alex to take his walk alone and leave her to deal with the tyre. When he'd insisted on taking over from her, she’d been suspicious at first – but he hadn’t used the problem as a chance to get one up on her. Instead, he’d calmly fixed her tyre and hadn’t asked for anything in return beyond a conversation. He hadn’t commented on the state of the van, or tried to make her feel guilty about the further delay.

Ella sighed and tried not to stare as Alex began to pace the studio – going to rest the back of his legs against a radiator in the far corner and discreetly warming his hands. After hearing more about Alex’s life, she felt like she understood him better. The details he’d shared on his background might explain his initial unfriendliness – which Ella guessed was a defence mechanism. Despite the man’s obvious wealth and privilege, it was clear he’d had to deal with heartbreaks.

Ella understood about those too. Her life was filled with them – she sighed as her attention drifted back to Alex. At least she had family, though. From what he’d told her, he didn’t have anyone, aside from a father who sounded distant and unloving. Nothing like her own. Her da had had a huge heart and his life had been devoted to making others happy. He’d always been the first to volunteer to help out at the panto, had offered discounts to struggling clients, or done odd jobs for them for free.

Ella watched as Alex wriggled his legs against the radiator, his cheeks now flushed. She still wanted to offer a blanket or to tell him to put his coat back on, but guessed he wouldn’t appreciate the interference – and she didn’t want to upset their tentative new truce which she already suspected wouldn’t last long. Was it odd that she wanted it to?

Henry perched onto one of the stools by his easel and turned his gaze to Alex. ‘Your father called while you were walking.’

‘He did?’ Alex stiffened. He pulled his mobile from his pocket and stared at the screen, his forehead knitting. ‘There are no missed calls, so he didn’t try to speak to me,’ he said. ‘Is something wrong? What did he have to say?’

‘It’s all fine, lad,’ Henry soothed, looking at him oddly. ‘He didn’t say much. Mostly he wanted to check in and find out how hard you were working.’ The older man ran a hand over Sprout’s ears when he wandered up to nuzzle him. ‘I told him you were walking in the grounds with Ella and the dogs. I also told him you’d be busy this evening because you were helping at the pantomime.’

Alex winced. ‘You didn’t tell him I was playing Prince Charming, did you?’ he checked.

‘No.’ Henry chuckled. ‘I only mentioned the scenery and he didn’t sound impressed.’

‘What did he say?’ Alex’s voice was tense.

‘Not a lot,’ Henry said, and Alex’s shoulders softened. ‘Except it all sounded like a waste of your time. But I told him when it comes to my money, he’s in charge – and when it comes to art, I make the decisions.’

‘Right,’ Alex muttered. ‘And how did he take that?’ Was it in Ella’s imagination or did he seem a little buoyed by Henry’s story?

‘Not well.’ The older man flashed a grin. ‘But I said he has to trust me, and if he can’t, then you –’ He pointed to Alex. ‘– might as well go back to Edinburgh and your fancy job.’

Alex paled. ‘Aye.’ He swallowed. ‘So, does that mean I need to pack?’

He looked unhappy, and Sprout immediately crossed the room so he could stand beside him, clearly offering support. Alex must have noticed because he gave the dog a baffled look before absently scratching his head.

‘Nae. You’re not going anywhere. Your da’s far too clever to make you throw this opportunity away.’ Henry waggled his eyebrows. ‘I expect Michael will give you a call later to fill you in on his thoughts about my methods. In the meantime—’ The older man stood so he could pace to the other side of the studio where his paintings had been piled face-first against the wall. ‘I wanted to get your thoughts on this.’

Henry picked up one of the pictures and spun it around presenting them with a large watercolour. It was a picture Ella had never seen, a portrait. Ella had often been tempted to peek at his work when she’d been in the studio alone, but had always felt too guilty about prying and too afraid of being caught. As far as she knew, Henry had only ever worked on landscapes, so the content was a shock. Curious, she edged closer.

‘It’s Aggie,’ Alex said softly as he moved nearer too. He wasn’t rubbing his arms anymore and Ella hoped that meant the radiator had finally warmed him. He cocked his head as he studied the painting and stretched his back, drawing attention to his large, lean torso and the powerful arms he’d used earlier to replace the tyre. The movement highlighted a tiny spot of grease on his cheek – an imperfection that made Ella like him more. He was big and his presence seemed to suck the air out of the room.

Ella turned to face the painting as tingles of unwelcome heat flooded through her again.

It was a close-up of the housekeeper’s face and showed every line and wrinkle that had burrowed into her skin over the decades. Her eyes were the perfect shade of brown and the bags resting under them had such intricate and lifelike shadows that the picture could have been mistaken for a photograph.

‘Aye, it’s her all right. She sat for me once, after I promised I’d eat her soup for a month without complaining.’ Henry placed the painting onto one of the easels and moved, giving them more space. ‘Take a good look and tell me what you see.’ He scratched the white hairs peppered across his chin as he waited.

‘Um.’ Ella considered the image, trying to find the right words. ‘It’s brilliant of course. The brushstrokes, luminosity, the shadows…’ She had to force herself not to stroke a fingertip across Aggie’s cheek to check if it was warm.

Henry really was a genius.

‘Aye,’ Alex agreed. ‘The colours are incredible. It’s so lifelike. I wouldn’t be surprised if she started to speak.’ He echoed Ella’s thoughts exactly.

‘She’d probably just say something about broccoli ,’ Henry said sourly, turning to face them, his gaze as sharp as a hungry bird’s. ‘But?’ he snapped. ‘Because I can hear it even if you’re not saying the words.’ His expression dimmed. ‘This exercise isn’t about you complimenting me. I know I’m talented because people pay obscene sums of money for my work.’

He shrugged as if admitting that was the most ordinary thing in the world. ‘And I don’t need adoration designed to swell my ego. I’ve been told on a number of occasions that it’s already large enough.’ He chuckled. ‘I want to know how this picture makes you feel .’ His tone sharpened. ‘This is a lesson, not a fancy cocktail party where we all get to tell each other lies.’

Ella pulled a face. ‘Um. I think it’s amazing, I’ve got nothing else to add.’

Nothing she wanted to share anyway. She wasn’t looking to offend her mentor. She just wanted to do her painting and finish the cleaning so she could get home. Ella wrapped her arms around herself, then unwrapped them when Henry’s eyes followed the movement as if he were unpicking it, analysing what the gesture meant.

‘I can still hear the but in your voice, lass – and you need to say it out loud.’ His eyes glittered. ‘I know there’s a lot you don’t share.’ He stared at Ella, his message clear. ‘A lot of feelings you keep hidden. Perhaps a few complaints you really ought to air. But what you do in your own time is your business.’

He paused as Ella took the hit from the observation. Henry was talking about her stepbrothers – about Lucinda. She hadn’t realised he’d seen what was happening, probably should have guessed he would since she was late to class so regularly and he’d commented on her tiredness more than once.

‘In my studio I make the rules, and I want honesty, Ella. Even if you find it difficult to express.’ Henry took a step forward and she gulped. He was asking the impossible. Surely he knew that?

Alex cleared his throat. ‘It’s – perhaps a little too lifelike. It makes me feel uncomfortable.’ He glanced at Ella and waited for her to nod before continuing, leaving her feeling grateful but confused. ‘Could it be a little too honest? I mean, it’s not very flattering,’ Alex folded his arms, suddenly looking awkward. Ella wondered if he was already regretting stepping in to help her out.

‘Well done. You’ve expressed what a lot wouldn’t,’ Henry breathed. ‘But do you think flattering the model matters, lad?’ He stared at Alex with all the emotion of a T-Rex studying its prey.

‘It depends.’ Alex shrugged. ‘What did Aggie think when she saw it?’

Henry puffed out his cheeks and roared out a laugh. ‘You think I’d show this to her?’ He widened his eyes. ‘I’m not a bampot. I still get served the odd haggis and shepherd’s pie and I’m hoping for some turkey at Christmas too – I’m not about to jeopardise that. Not everyone wants honesty. For some it’s simply too much.’ His thick eyebrows met again and his face registered hurt.

‘Has that happened to you?’ Ella blurted.

‘Aye, once.’ Henry’s eyebrows flopped – then his face went blank. ‘But this isn’t about me, it’s a lesson and we need to stay on track.’

‘If you knew the picture might upset Aggie – why did you paint her like that?’ Ella asked.

Henry frowned. ‘How can you feel anything real if you’re living in a world that wants to mask or hide the truth?’ he asked, sounding frustrated. ‘We spend our lives covering things up, making them pretty. Living in fairy tales. What we fail to realise is there’s beauty in the flaws. Why would we want to hide them?’

He paused and glanced at the sketch on Ella’s easel. ‘I love the whimsy of your art, I’m not saying that it isn’t good – even brilliant sometimes – but we have to know what’s at the core of what we see, in order to develop how we show it. I don’t think either of you have learned to do that. I think you’re both still showing the surface. Perhaps because you’re afraid of what you’re going to find?’

Ella rocked on her heels, feeling uncomfortable. It was the first time Henry had shared these thoughts with her, and she wasn’t sure she liked them. She loved her drawings, enjoyed escaping into another world. One where everything was beautiful, where everyone was kind and even animals were your friends. In her art, no one was mean, the people you loved didn’t die – and everyone did their fair share. She swallowed the hot knot of emotion as it rose in her throat. She wasn’t sure she was ready to face the truth. Wasn’t sure she ever would be.

‘By honest, do you mean truthful, real?’ Alex checked.

‘Aye.’ Henry let out a long exhale looking pleased. ‘Good work, lad, I knew you’d get there. We need to learn to love what’s underneath the veneer. In order to do that we have to show and accept it in all its glory – warts, lines, wrinkles, curves, all of it.’ He frowned.

‘So, what do you want us to do?’ Alex asked, looking confused.

He shrugged. ‘I want you to bear it in mind when you start to work. Practise sketching what you see. I don’t care what it is. Dig deep, expose what’s underneath those sparkles, festive cakes and glittery faces.’

He stared at them, his wizened face serious. ‘You’ll be at the pantomime rehearsals tonight, take some time to notice and sketch the cast – or each other.’ He studied them. ‘You’re both going to start working on your new project tomorrow, and I want you to bring the truth to your work.’

‘I…’ Ella swallowed. ‘I’m not sure I can. I mean in my work, my animals, they’re—’ She paused, struggling to express herself. ‘When I’m drawing them, I imagine them talking to me. They’re not real…’ Her work was pure fantasy, an escape from the drudgery of her life.

‘The animals are real, lass,’ the artist said kindly. ‘Just think about that when you’re working. I’m not asking you to change your style, I want you to deepen it. I want to believe I can see what those creatures of yours are thinking. I want to know what’s about to come out of their mouths. You’re so close, but I want to see their flaws too.’ Ella opened her mouth to disagree, but the words wouldn’t come.

‘I understand,’ Alex said, stepping in again. ‘We can do it.’ He glanced at her, his expression a mix of expectation and sympathy.

Ella sighed and nodded. She’d try, although she really wasn’t sure she was ready to face the truth.