That night in bed she felt a stirring of feelings inside her. Excitement, fear, interest, and heat. They came to her like old friends reminding her of the young girl she’d once been. Back when she’d been bold enough to kiss the Zhong eldest son. He was the only boy she’d ever loved, and she’d paid severely for her audacity. No servant kissed the eldest son. It was why she’d been tossed from the Zhong household and shackled on an English ship.
But now those feelings stirred again—when she looked into the tiger’s eyes—and she wondered how she would pay this time. Last time she’d lost her country and her home, not to mention what she’d endured on the ship. She had a life back in London. Good work and safety. Would she lose that now for the audacity of feeling something for a powerful man? Much better to suppress her feelings, or better yet, she should paint them away. But she didn’t have a brush in her hand, so she stood there and felt such things as if she were a teenager again.
It made her fidget as the squiggles in her belly danced.
Meanwhile, the boy stepped forward and bowed before her. “Good morning, Miss Li-Na.”
She smiled at the young man. “Good morning, Master Stefan. Have you figured out your castle problems?”
He grimaced. “I figured out one problem, but uncle keeps pointing out more.”
“That’s the problem with life,” his uncle said. “The moment you surmount one obstacle, three more appear.” Then he dropped his hand on the top of Stefan’s head and physically turned the boy’s head back to the castle. “You keep working on our model. Figure out how to create the strongest wall while I show Miss Li-Na what came with the post this morning.”
The boy nodded and ran back to his task while Lord Daniel gestured for her to precede him into the castle. Li-Na went easily, knowing the path now. How strange that she had no qualm about him standing behind her today. Indeed, her skin tingled sweetly at the thought of him there. Meanwhile, Lord Daniel turned back to address his nephew.
“Don’t climb on anything!” he cried.
“I promise!” came the response.
Lord Daniel snorted. “He promises, but he forgets. If I don’t check on him in twenty minutes, he’ll be halfway up the wall trying to see if he could build a turret.”
“Boys have notoriously short memories.” It was the best comment she could think of, given that she had no idea what a turret was.
“Have you had anything to eat? There are some more eggs.”
“No thank you, my lord. Last night’s dinner was large enough.”
He nodded as he held open the door to the great room. “There’s bread and cheese when you’re ready. And Mrs. Hocking will be here in a few hours too.”
“I am fine, thank you.” She knew how to make her own tea. “I will get to work—”
“In a moment,” he said as he gently steered her to the kitchen. “Stefan brought something this morning. I was going to carry it to the workroom, but the child got me talking about castles and then we were outside.”
His words had the playful growl of a cat attacking a toy. It rumbled through him without meaning any real threat, and she smiled at the image.
“Here it is!” he declared as they entered the kitchen. He gave a sweeping gesture to indicate a long thin box and a large paper-wrapped square on the table.
She frowned. Why would he give her a gift?
“Open it!”
She should have guessed what it was. She should have known, but she was busy fighting the spinning, giddy spasm of squiggles in her belly. A gift. For her. When was the last time anyone had given her anything? Even Mrs. Dove-Lyon—arguably her closest friend in England—gave food and fun to all her employees at Christmas in a special party. No one got an individual gift from her. Not even Li-Na.
And yet here was Lord Daniel gesturing to the packages, clearly impatient with her reticence.
“I…I don’t understand.”
“That’s because you haven’t opened it.”
He pushed the packages toward her and grinned as she began to unwrap the long thing one.
Brushes. A dozen different kinds for oil painting or watercolors. All expensive. And beside it, several different colors of paint.
“The black ink is there,” he said pointing to a dark bottle. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I got an assortment.”
She nodded, her head spinning. These were not her tools. They were not the kind of brushes designed for Chinese calligraphy or painting, but they would serve. Indeed, she’d been buying such brushes ever since she came to England because they were the only kind sold here.
“And this package,” she said as she touched the larger square. “It is paper?”