behind his table, trying not to smile. He'd seen the surprise and curiosity in Micheline's wide eyes, and had recognized the panic too. She didn't want to know about the man she was to marry. Why not? And again he wondered how and why the marriage had been sought in the first place.
"Where is your canvas, m'sieur?" Micheline queried, happy to change the subject. "And your paints, and—"
He held up his hand. "Not so fast! If we're to create a proper portrait, a few preparatory exercises must be performed!"
"They must?" she echoed. What was he talking about?
"Yes!" The girl was simply enchanting. Her manner was open yet laced with mystery, and her beauty was luminous. "I like to do a series of sketches first. Pen drawings. I'll work on those today, and if the results are satisfactory, we may be able to begin the actual portrait tomorrow."
"What are the drawings for?"
"They help me become accustomed to your face, body, and spirit." Micheline's sudden blush made him glance away out of kindness. Andrew picked up one of the swan's quills, dipped it into the inkhorn, and began to sketch her. "To create a portrait of any depth, it's important to develop a deeper understanding of the subject. Also, the drawings help me decide what the best design would be for the finished painting." As he became more involved in what he was doing, Sandhurst's sentences took on a disjointed quality. "The position of your body, the tilt of your head, the expression on your face, the most flattering style for your hair and gown—they're very important. Critical, in fact." He met her eyes and smiled briefly. "We'll look at the sketches together, if you'd like, and you can tell me if you have any thoughts about the way you want to look. It won't be just any portrait, after all—"
"I know," Micheline broke in. "And I would be pleased to see the drawings when you finish, m'sieur. It's kind of you to offer."
"Not kind at all. At least half the credit for any painting must go to the subject, I believe. That's why I like to paint people. They can talk back and share more actively in the artistic process."
Aside from her heightened sensations in the presence of Andrew Selkirk, Micheline was now disconcerted by having to carry on a conversation with someone who rarely made eye contact with her. He'd be scrutinizing her hair or her neck or her nose while she spoke, so that she wasn't certain if he was listening, or else he was actively sketching, which made her feel as if she shouldn't speak at all.
After a long minute of silence Andrew laughed softly and met Micheline's eyes. "Don't be so stiff, madame! Relax. We are not in church, and I can assure you that there is nothing sacred about my work." The sight of her nervous, obedient smile only increased his amusement. "Why don't you talk to me. As I recall, you said that you grew up in Angouleme. Tell me about it."
It seemed that Micheline had little choice. Uneasily she said, "It's not a very exciting story, m'sieur. We lived some distance east of the town of Angouleme, in the country, near Nieuil. When I was a child. King Francois had a hunting lodge very near my family's chateau, but he wasn't there very often. I couldn't have been more than ten when he went off with the army to fight in Italy, and then, of course, he was held captive for over a year. He did visit after his return, and my parents attended a celebration at the hunting lodge, but soon after it became the property of a man named Grunn. Apparently he owned some land in the forest near Chateau de Chambord that the king coveted, so they made an exchange."
Sandhurst had given no indication that he heard her at all, but now he glanced up to remark dryly, "I see. What about you?"
"Well..." She faltered, blushing. "There's not a lot to tell. Because we lived in the country, I had a quiet childhood. My brother, Paul, was many years older and not very much company. I spent a great deal of time outdoors. I liked the woods—I still do. I love animals. My mother saw to it that I learned to read. We had a wonderful library. I think that my father likes books better than people, but at least the books became my friends as well." Micheline was relaxing now,