She shrugged. “You obviously love it. It would be a shame not to share that passion with people starting out. You’ve taught before, haven’t you?”
“That was a long time ago.” He flicked the page over to start afresh, making Donna wonder how much planning one painting needed. When she sketched in her books, she didn’t think about it at all beforehand, she just grabbed a pencil and got to it. She guessed that was the difference between a professional and someone who dabbled.
“I think you should accept the invitation. It’s only one lecture. It’s not like you’re committing to something long term. Plus, you said yourself, you’re going stir crazy here. Maybe a couple of nights in Glasgow is just what you need. Not to mention, you’d get to talk to people who understand you for a change. I imagine that would be nice.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her, and she tried to look as innocent and disinterested as possible.
“Will you stop talking and let me work if I promise to think about it?”
Hope rose within her but she played it cool. “You don’t need to promise. It’s totally up to you whether or not you think about it.”
“Then can I get back to work?”
“Yes.” She thought about it. “But meeting up with other artists would be nice, wouldn’t it?”
“Donna.” He was clearly frustrated. “I’ll think about it. Okay?”
“Whatever you feel is best.”
He growled at her. “Pose. Don’t talk.”
She grinned and returned to her book. But it was hard to concentrate. Her attention kept being drawn to Duncan. The blue plaid shirt he wore tugged over his shoulders as he moved. Each gesture he made was precise, fluid and intentional. There were no wasted movements.
She imagined other people might find it offensive to be reduced to lines and shape and colours. Donna was fascinated. Somehow, she had become part of his process, and it made her feel a connection to him that she wasn’t sure was wise. It was peaceful, sitting in the soft morning light, listening to pastel scrape over paper. She could have stayed there forever.
And that’s when she heard the engines. Her heart jumped as she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. There was a convoy of cars coming up the driveway. The Women’s Institute were here, and they’d brought an army along with them. So much for the meeting they’d had about being stealthy. There was a van emblazoned with the logo of a catering company, another with Party Hire written on the side in pink glittery letters, and one proclaiming it set up the best sound equipment in Scotland.
A lime-green Mini led the procession. In the front seat, clear as day, sat Flora and Joyce. There was nothing subtle about their approach. They’d ignored everything she’d told them. She was going to kill someone. No, she would let Agnes kill someone.
She glanced at Duncan. He had his head down as he studied his work, but he wouldn’t stay like that for long. There was no way he could miss the convoy coming down his drive.
“Stop moving, woman,” Duncan said as his head came up to look at her.
Her breath caught in her throat as everything unfolded in slow motion. The cavalcade crawled towards the mansion, in plain view of the studio. Their approach caught Duncan’s eye. He frowned and set aside his sketchpad.
“What the...?” he muttered as he leaned in for a closer look.
There was nothing between him and the window.
Nothing but her.
Donna shot to her feet, her future flashing before her eyes. Duncan would lose his mind and fire everyone. The Women’s Institute wouldn’t be able to raise money for their cause. The art college would be pissed and take it out on Duncan. And she would have to listen to his endless rant because there was no way he’d give her a decent reference so she could get another job. She’d be stuck. Forever. And cook wouldn’t even be there to feed her.
She had to do something to distract him.
Anything.
And she had to do it fast.
“Donna,” Duncan said absently, his eyes on the window. “Sit back down. We’re not finished for the day. I just want to see what’s going on out there.”
There was no time to waste. And she only had one idea to take his mind off the procession. She swallowed hard. This was so dumb.
Don’t do it! Hermione shouted from behind Duncan. Have some self-respect!
It was too late. Time had run out.
Duncan frowned. “Who are all those people coming up th—”