“I wanted to say it back to you the night of the engagement party, but I was scared.”
“Why, Mistress?” Lindsey could tell that this was difficult for Camilla. Maybe it would be easier for her to talk about it as ‘Lindsey’s Mistress’ rather than ‘Camilla.’
Camilla shifted on the bed beside her. “Over the course of my life, I’ve become accustomed to being alone. The truth is, it’s easier that way. It means that I don’t ever have to worry about being a burden on anyone. I don’t have to worry that those close to me will start to resent me for all my limitations.”
“I would never consider you a burden,” Lindsey said. “And it’s obvious that you get along just fine by yourself.”
“That’s because I’ve learned to adapt every part of my life around my illness. My carefully regimented routine is a necessity, not a choice. I can’t afford to stray from it, to be spontaneous and free. It’s restrictive. What happens when it all becomes too much for you?”
“It won’t.” Lindsey reached for Camilla’s hand. “Mistress, neither of us knows what the future holds. All I know is that I want to spend it with you, no matter what.”
Camilla was silent. Lindsey turned to look at her. Her eyes were closed and her body was still. The only sign of life was the slow rise and fall of Camilla’s chest.
Finally, she spoke. “Do you mean that? That you want to spend the future with me?”
“Yes,” Lindsey said. “I do.”
“Because our three months is almost up. And ever since the other night, I’ve been thinking about what comes next.”
“So have I. I just didn’t know how to bring it up.” It was only days since Lindsey had told Camilla she loved her, after all. It had been clear that Camilla was still getting used to the idea. Lindsey hadn’t wanted to complicate things further.
“How would you like to move into the manor permanently?” Camilla asked.
Lindsey gaped at her. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. It will be perfect. Nothing will have to change. You can spend your days in the sunroom, working on your art, without having to worry about a thing.”
Lindsey let out a wistful sigh. “That does sound perfect. But I wouldn’t want to be a kept woman.”
Camilla laughed. “A kept woman? Is this the 1920s? Where on earth did you hear a term like that?”
“If you really want to know, it was Denise.”
Camilla shook her head. “That’s so like her.” She placed a hand on Lindsey’s shoulder. “You won’t be a kept woman. You’ll be my girlfriend. My partner. My submissive. So, what do you say?”
“Yes, of course. I would love to stay here with you, Mistress.”
“You have no idea how happy that makes me.”
Lindsey brought her lips to Camilla’s. This was everything she’d ever wanted. Everything she’d ever dreamed of.
Then why did she have this unshakable sense of unease gnawing at her stomach?
Chapter Twenty-One
Lindsey peered over her sketchpad at her Mistress. Camilla lay stretched out along a chaise lounge on her side, wearing nothing but a robe made of pale pink silk. Her straight brown hair flowed down over the arm of the couch, and the afternoon sun streamed through the window behind her, giving her a golden glow.
Lindsey looked back down at her sketchpad. For the last half hour, she’d been trying to draw Camilla. Lindsey wanted to do something nice for her, to give her a gift that was unique and personal. At first, she’d tried to draw Camilla from memory, but she couldn’t get it right, so she’d asked Camilla to pose for her.
But even now, Lindsey was struggling. Maybe it was just nerves. This was the first time Lindsey had let Camilla into the sunroom she’d transformed into her studio. And just moments ago, she’d shown Camilla her art for the first time. Lindsey felt like her so
ul was on display.
Camilla yawned and stretched out her arms. “Christ, is this what people did before cameras were invented? I should ask June to bring me a bottle of wine.”
“Hold still.” When Lindsey looked up from her sketchpad again, Camilla was giving her a frosty look. “Sorry! I mean, please hold still, Mistress.”
“All right,” Camilla said. “Can I talk, at least?”