The Ring The Spaniard Gave Her - Lynne Graham Page 0,42

pressed, sensing her abstraction and irritated by it.

‘Going home,’ she told him truthfully.

His brilliant dark eyes glittered like polished jet. At that moment he didn’t want her thinking about anything but him, and the very strangeness of that thought disconcerted him.

It was because that desire of hers to return home put pressure on him to complete the painting, he reasoned uneasily. And possibly just a little because he wanted her full attention to be on him—and that was normal, wasn’t it? Particularly for a guy who had never had to fight for a woman’s attention before...

OK, Ruy thought with sudden ferocity, challenge accepted.

CHAPTER EIGHT

‘DON’T MOVE YOUR HAND,’ Ruy instructed. ‘And, no, don’t twist your face up like that. You’re a creature of perpetual motion, querida. You must learn how to sit still.’

‘Were you like this as a kid?’ Suzy queried impatiently. ‘Did you make your friends sit like statues while you drew them?’

‘My friends didn’t know about my artistic propensities.’

Suzy studied him intently, taking in the gleaming black hair, the proud high cheekbones, the dark deep-set eyes that flashed gold in sunlight or emotion. He was gorgeous, particularly when dressed down to paint in worn jeans and a tee that showcased every inch of his lean, beautifully muscular body. The sensuality of that thought brought colour to her cheeks but six days of pretty much constant intimacy with Ruy had wrecked her ability to step back and maintain her cool. Now she looked at him and her own body clenched and throbbed in reaction even though she ached from their mutual enthusiasm.

‘And why was that?’

‘My father punished me for drawing or for showing any interest in art.’

‘But why?’ she exclaimed in disbelief.

‘My father’s younger brother, Lorenzo, was an artist. He was also defiantly gay. My father was a bigot and he cut his brother out of his life, but he grew up associating any kind of artistic leanings in a man with homosexuality. My desire to draw horrified him and he tried to beat it out of me.’

‘That’s appalling!’ Suzy gasped in shock at his calm manner of talking about such inhumane treatment.

‘I learned to hide my interest at an early age,’ Ruy admitted, his sensual mouth quirking. ‘But, perhaps, Armando was rather unlucky with his sons. Rodrigo, after all, has a similar creative streak. He’s become a successful art dealer and is the owner of a fashionable art gallery in Seville. This palacio is, after all, the home of one of the most valuable private art collections in Spain, consisting of paintings assembled over many hundreds of years by my ancestors. Art and collecting is in our blood.’

Her smooth brow furrowed. ‘Your father sounds like a monster. Is that why you keep your artistic side a big secret?’

Ruy’s strong jawline clenched. ‘It was the start of it, certainly. I wasn’t strong enough to fight my father off and stop those punishments of his until I was a teenager and by then a lot of damage had been done and the secrecy had become a habit.’

‘Your brother must know about your art,’ Suzy assumed.

‘No, he doesn’t, and I must ask you to remember not to mention it to anyone at the wedding tomorrow,’ Ruy warned her grimly.

‘You know I won’t if you don’t want me to,’ Suzy told him soothingly. ‘But why is it still a secret? Why do you feel the need to hide such an important part of yourself from the rest of the world?’

Ruy had never asked himself that question, which struck him as an odd glaring omission. ‘Custom, privacy,’ he responded. ‘For many years, it felt like the only thing in my life that was truly mine and I guarded my secret zealously.’

‘Would you give up Valiente Capital to paint full-time?’ Suzy asked.

‘No,’ Ruy answered without hesitation. ‘Once I believed that, given the choice, I would do that, but since then I’ve come to appreciate that I also very much enjoy the cut and thrust of the financial world. I think that’s in my genes as much as the need to paint.’ He set down his palette. ‘That will do us for today. Manuel is providing a picnic lunch for us. I did promise to show you the estate.’

‘I thought you’d forgotten... I want to see the orange grove where you used to hide.’

Ruy closed a hand over hers as she rose and tottered slightly on her stiff limbs. His other hand winding into her curls, he drew her slight frame up against him. The heat