Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

J onathan realized that he slept best when he had Ciara in his arms. With his eyes still closed, he felt a sense of contentment settling over him. He reached out, expecting to find her beside him, but the bed was empty. He sat up, frowning slightly. Where could she be?

He quickly dressed and made his way through the house, checking each room as he went. The drawing room, the library, the breakfast room—all were empty. His concern grew with each passing minute until he finally heard a soft, melodic voice coming from the music room.

He approached quietly, pushing the door open just enough to see inside. There she was, standing by the window, bathed in the morning light. Her back was to him, and she was softly singing to herself, a hauntingly beautiful Irish melody that sent a shiver down his spine.

Jonathan stood in the doorway, mesmerized. Her voice was like nothing else he had ever heard before—pure, clear, and filled with an emotion that touched him deeply. He watched as she swayed slightly with the music, lost in her own world.

He took a step forward, unable to stay away any longer. The floor creaked under his weight, and she turned, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Jonathan," she said, a smile spreading across her face. "Good morning."

"Good morning," he replied, his voice hushed with awe. "Your voice… I was mesmerized the first time I heard it by the pond, but every time I hear you sing, I… I feel more and more enchanted by it."

Ciara blushed, looking down shyly. "Thank you. It's just something I do when I'm alone. My grandmother used to sing to me when I was little, so singing makes me remember her and the happy moments we spent together."

"It's beautiful," he said, stepping closer. "You're beautiful."

Her blush deepened, and she looked up at him, her eyes shining with affection. "Thank you," she said softly. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't," he assured her, reaching out to take her hand. "But I'm glad I found you here. Hearing you sing—every time—is like discovering a hidden treasure."

She laughed softly, a musical sound that made his heart skip a beat. "You have a way with words, Jonathan."

He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her. "I mean every word," he said, his voice serious. "You're amazing, Ciara. Every day, you show me something new to be in awe about you."

They stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other's arms, the morning light enveloping them in a golden glow. Jonathan pressed a kiss to her forehead, feeling a deep sense of gratitude for the woman in his arms.

"Will you sing for me again?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with love and a hint of mischief. "Only if you promise to join me," she teased.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm afraid I'm not much of a singer."

"Then you can listen," she said, leaning up to kiss him gently. "And I'll sing for you."

As her voice filled the room once more, Jonathan closed his eyes, letting the music wash over him. He felt as if he had forgotten everything but that special moment, and nothing else existed. As Ciara's song came to an end, she looked up at Jonathan with that playful gleam in her eyes that he loved so much.

"Now, it's your turn," she suddenly said with a teasing lilt in her voice.

"My turn?" he gasped in mock horror. "I told you, if I start singing, the servants will think some angry cat is lost in the manor house."

Ciara laughed at his comment. "No, not singing," she clarified. "Singing is my special thing. Now, you have to do something special for me. It is only fair."

"Oh," he nodded in understanding. "Yes, that is fair." He thought about it for a moment then he smiled, taking her by the hand. "I have just the thing."

He pulled her, and together, they ran out of the music room, toward his study. He relished the sound of her chuckling behind him when he let go of her, walking up to his writing table. He touched the handle of the drawer, but he didn't pull it out yet.

"Now, I must warn you, this is a highly guarded secret; no one else knows about this," he urged.

"No one?" she inquired. "Not even Hector?"

"Especially not Hector," he gasped through a chuckle. "He would make fun of me the most."

"I would never make fun of you; you know that." She smiled tenderly. "Your secret is safe with me."

He nodded, pulling the drawer out and taking a sketchbook. He placed it gently on the writing table.

As Jonathan opened the sketchbook, the pages fluttered slightly, revealing a collection of charcoal drawings that captured the essence of various subjects. The first page showcased a serene landscape—rolling hills under a twilight sky, the silhouettes of trees framing the horizon. He had poured his heart into the soft strokes, hoping to convey a sense of tranquility.

Turning to the next page, he observed Ciara's reaction to a delicate portrait of a young woman, her features graceful and expressive. Jonathan had meticulously captured the light in her eyes and the gentle curve of her smile, aiming to evoke warmth and vitality.

"Is this someone you know?" Ciara asked, her curiosity evident.

"Just an inspiration I encountered once," he replied with a smile. "I like to capture the beauty I see in the world, whether it's a person or a moment."

As she flipped through more pages, he watched her marvel at the variety of subjects: a bustling market scene filled with lively figures, an intricately detailed bouquet of flowers, and even a quiet moment of children playing by a riverside. Each drawing was infused with emotion, the shading expertly applied to create texture and movement.

One drawing caught her eye—a small cottage surrounded by a wild garden, a soft glow emanating from the windows as the sun dipped below the horizon. It seemed to evoke a sense of home and comfort, reflecting a peaceful life Jonathan often dreamed of.

"This is beautiful," she said, her voice filled with admiration. "You have such a talent for bringing scenes to life."

Jonathan felt a swell of pride at her words, tinged with vulnerability. "Thank you. It's my way of preserving moments that touch me."

He turned the page to reveal a self-portrait, rendered with an unexpected honesty. The charcoal lines were raw, showcasing not just his likeness but also a hint of the emotions he often kept hidden. He could feel his heart race as Ciara leaned closer, taking in the drawing.

"Do you always draw yourself?" she asked gently.

"Not often," he admitted. "But sometimes, it helps to understand oneself better. I wanted to see how I perceive myself in the world."

Jonathan watched her gaze linger on the drawing, feeling a warmth spread through him at her appreciation. "You have a way of seeing beauty where others might not," she said softly. "It's a gift."

Her words resonated deeply within him, filling him with gratitude. "And you inspire me to see even more," he said, turning to the last page. "This is my favorite. It is done from a painting my father had."

The charcoal lines depicted a woman with gentle features and kind eyes, radiating warmth and strength. Jonathan had often dreamed about her, the way she would smile, the way she would sound, and how warm her hands would be. He supposed that every motherless child had that one most precious dream.

"It was my way of holding onto her spirit. She had such a calming presence, always encouraging me to pursue my passions."

As he spoke, Ciara's gaze softened, understanding the depth of his feelings. "You can see the love in her eyes," she observed. "It's clear she meant a great deal to you, that she was with you in spirit if not in flesh."

Jonathan felt a surge of gratitude for her understanding. "Thank you. This… It means a lot to me. That you… that you appreciate this," he said, his heart swelling with emotion. "Perhaps I will take it up again, one of these days."

"It would be such a shame if you did not," she agreed.

As the moment lingered, Jonathan found himself captivated by Ciara's presence and the way she absorbed the emotions behind his drawings. An idea sparked in his mind, and he hesitated, feeling a mix of excitement and shyness.

"Would you… would you consider posing for me?" he asked, his voice soft yet hopeful.

Ciara blinked, a flush rising to her cheeks. "Me? Pose?" she echoed, surprise evident in her tone.

"Yes," he replied, a hint of bashfulness creeping into his demeanor. "I'd love to capture your essence."

She bit her lip, her heart racing at the thought. "I suppose I could," she said, a shy smile breaking through. "But I'm not sure how to pose."

Jonathan chuckled lightly, his nerves easing. "Just be yourself. I want to capture the spirit of who you are."

After a moment's contemplation, Ciara nodded, her blush deepening but her smile growing more confident. "All right, I'll do it. But promise you'll make me look good," she teased lightly, her playful nature shining through.

"I won't have to try hard at all, but I promise nevertheless," he said with a grin, feeling a flutter of excitement at the prospect of drawing her. "Let's find a spot where the light is good."

As they moved to a corner of the study, the sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow. Jonathan set up his materials, heart racing with anticipation.

Ciara settled into a comfortable pose, her expression soft yet thoughtful. Jonathan took a deep breath, focusing on the lines and curves that defined her features, ready to capture the essence of the woman who had brought so much light into his life.