The Master & the Muses Read Free Page B

Bridgeton, he is gifted man. Not perfect, mind you, but bright and determined. He is a romantic at heart. His work is largely of women, using poetic imagery, religious stories and legends from which he derives his ideas. Though, in truth, his inspirations are his muses.”
    â€œMay I ask what you mean by ‘his muses’ ?”
    â€œLet me make one thing perfectly clear, Miss Bridgeton. My brother has a deep, abiding love of women. A reverence, I daresay. Thomas regards women with the same awe that other men reserve for the stars, or a sunrise.”
    â€œMy, what a lovely thing to say, Mr. Rodin.” My eye caught the shadowy figures of a couple hurrying into the dense foliage beside the tunnel. There was little doubt in my mind what mischief they were engaging in. I forced my attention back to Mr. Rodin. “Are there many members in this brotherhood, Mr. Rodin? Any other models?”
    â€œThere are a handful of us—other artists like Thomas, me, in design…we also have amongst us a poet, a journalist and an author, as well as a few other individuals. You need not take concern, Miss Bridgeton. We are a close-knit group and very watchful of one another.”
    A woman’s lusty sigh came from the other side of the wall. I kept my eyes on Mr. Rodin’s face. He continued, despite the distracting animallike sounds coming from nearby.
    â€œThere is a certain amount of pride in what we believe in, what we aspire to. Each of us has a purpose, a goal we want to achieve, but we are—”
    â€œOh, yes…yes, that’s lovely, guvner. ” The woman emitted a loud sigh. “Here now,” she said, “let’s see what gift you’ve got for me.”
    I heard the soft baritone of a man’s chuckle. “You are an eager one.”
    Images of what the couple were engaged in leaped into my imagination and I licked my lips.
    â€œâ€”professional and discreet,” Mr. Rodin finished
    My face felt flushed, feverish. I fisted my hands in my lap, trying to stay as detached from the events on the other side of the wall as it seemed Mr. Rodin was. I wanted to ask him if we should take our conversation elsewhere, but he appeared to be perfectly content and I did not wish to convey to him that I was as unsettled as I truly was.
    â€œDiscreet?” The word squeaked from my throat. “Oh, yes, an admiral trait, certainly.”
    A deep-throated groan wafted through the flowers and I saw the instant Mr. Rodin recognized it. His mouth curled slightly at one side and he averted his eyes for a moment.
    â€œDid you have any other questions, Miss Bridgeton?” he asked.
    â€œOh, dear lady! What extraordinary skills you possess!” the man growled from inside the bushes.
    I turned my head aside, covering my mouth to hide my smile. I cleared my throat, loud enough, I hoped, to alert the couple they were not alone. It did not seem to deter them.
    â€œThere now, hold it still, guvnor. You’re plenty ready.”
    â€œBut I paid for an hour,” the man remarked with slight agitation in his voice.
    â€œIs that my fault, then? Besides—” she cooed “—there’s no sayin’ that we can’t find us another lovely spot to ’ave a go at it again, if you get my meaning?”
    A deep chuckle followed.
    I was so entranced by their repartee that I had all but forgotten Mr. Rodin was seated beside me. My eyes flickered to his steady gaze. “Oh, my, what is it that you asked, Mr. Rodin?”
    His grin curled upward, deepening that delightful dimple. “If you had any more—”
    â€œAh…ah, oh, yes…there, that’s good, guvnor. Real good.”
    The trellised latticework wall bowed inward with each punctuated sigh coming from the woman.
    â€œâ€”questions,” Mr. Rodin finished as he glanced at the heaving wall. He removed his hat and suppressed a grin.
    â€œPerhaps we should leave?” I whispered,