Giveaway Question: What do think the difference between passion and love is? Do you feel there is a difference?
Meet Sara~
She came to Thomas with a bit more determination about what she wanted. Refined, educated, home-schooled by a strict aunt and uncle with connections to upper crust society, Sara, lived in a world where daily she was shown what wealth good bring her. Yet, her options were severely limited unless she married into money and likely to a man much older than her, otherwise, she was destined to live out her days in the company of a man who might indeed have passion, but also dirt beneath his nails. Sara wanted it all-wealth, travel, notoriety, passion. And in her eyes, handsome, charismatic Thomas Rodin was her ticket to that world. She would give up everything for him, hoping to gain twice as much in the end, only to realize that when she thought she had everything--she really had nothing. Greed is a cunning seducer and Sara would soon find out that pursuing your dreams at the expense of others does not end happily.
It is not until she is at her lowest point, that Sara realizes the difference between passion and love. What she had mistaken as love was really passion perceived and what she found instead was love—quiet, unobtrusive, resilient—and thereafter discovered what true passion between a man and woman is. No money, no social standing could buy the comfort of a true friend and lover, one who would sacrifice everything if it would suffice to make her happy. And therein was the turning point for Sara, who came to realize there is a difference between want and need.
The Master & the Muses Excerpt-Thomas shows Sara his studio
“What do you think?" Rodin asked as he lit the kerosene lamps around the room. Beyond the French doors leading to the small balcony, twilight was descending on London. There was the stench for the rivers mingling with the sharp smell of something in the studio. I wrinkled my nose and heard Rodin’s laughter.
“That’s turpentine, Sara. Horrid at first, but a scent that you will get used to. Come, take a look." He ushered me over to a frame that stood on its own, on it was a fabric stretched over a wood frame. Beside that a small table with an array of pots of paints and several crockery jars holding more variety of paintbrushes than I’d ever seen. I reached out to touch the canvas and he caught my wrist.
“Nothing touches my canvas, except me.”
His eyes were steady and it took a moment to realize the gravity of my near mistake. I nodded.
“Otherwise, feel free to explore at will. I have a small library downstairs. I believe you mentioned that you read. Any of the volumes are available at your leisure, when you aren’t working." He smiled and continued as if nothing had happened. “There are three bedrooms and a bath down the second floor hallway. The kitchen is over there,” He pointed to the corner of the large studio room. “Through the butler’s pantry.” He turned in a circle as if observing his domain. “We took out a wall dividing the room to allow for the light from both sets of balcony doors. I quite often entertain the brotherhood—at strange hours of the night, you should be warned. Do you cook, by chance?”
“A little,” I replied a bit unsure about what I was getting into.
“Scones?”
“Well, yes, as a matter of fact, my aunt…”
“Splendid! I’ll make sure that you have all that you need to make those straight away.”
“Are you hiring me to cool or to model, Mr. Rodin?” I asked. Cooking and cleaning was not what I had in mind.
He cocked his brow in question. “Miss Cartwright. Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear. I entertain my brothers, sometimes with little notice and as you might guess to hire a full time cook would seem a waste. The brotherhood thrives on a communal sharing policy, Miss Cartwright. Therefore, your talents in cooking as well as being a muse will be utilized. Besides, you wouldn’t want my cooking, I assure you.”
“As such, you may also, from time to time, be lent to one or two of the other artists in the group,” he stated matter of fact as he poured himself a glass of port.
He held the bottle up in silent invitation and I shook my head, offering a polite smile, which didn’t seem to bother him a bit.
“I am delighted to see your bags, assuming then that you will be staying in residence?”
He paused and waited for my response. “I won’t take up much room.”
He chuckled. “My dear, you’ll have your own room. My former model, as it happens has left an opening. You’ll take her room and share the bath with whoever happens to be here.”
“Do you live here?" The words blurted out before I realized what I’d said.
“For the most part, yes,” he replied.
He was apparently less concerned than I about my forward question. I’d taken him up on his offer to explore, walking slow around the parameter of the room, studying the pictures on the wall, and the artifacts from countries far away. “Do you travel, much, Mr. Rodin?”
“Me? No, I’m rather a homebody I fear. Most of those trinkets have come as gifts from my brothers and my peers. I have some very well traveled friends whose interests lie in learning more about the world beyond these walls in order to find their inspiration. I like my creature comforts I guess, preferring to stay right here and focus on the painting and the person I’m painting, to find my inspiration.”
I found a stack of canvas sketches leaning against the wall and I bent to thumb through them, surprised to discover the sensuality displayed by the models. One such sketch was a woman partially reclined on a lounge chair, with but a throw covering her lower half. She held a feather in her hand and her gaze was fixed on the artist. He’d captured every detail of her full breasts, the slope of her belly, and the swell of her hip. I was mesmerized by how her sexuality came through on the canvas, and too, how natural she looked. “Who is she?” I asked, sensing him now standing at my side.
“One of my very first models, her name was Cozette. She was an acquaintance of my aunt. A lovely girl, but harbored a great many secrets.”
“Where is she now?”
He chuckled. “Making some gent enormously happy, I imagine. The woman possessed a fiery passion.”
I eyed the woman wondering what it is that Thomas Rodin saw in me. “Do I possess such passion, Mr. Rodin? Will you have me pose as she did, in her all together?" I was intrigued with imagining myself in such a decadent pose.
Thomas stood very close, the scent of his skin, exotic and titillating as before to my senses. I felt his fingers brush my cheek and turned to face him. His eyes darkened as he trailed his fingers along the curve of my neck. My body reacted instantly to his touch, my breasts puckering, rubbing against the rough fabric of my corset.
His penetrating eyes held mine, his fingers traveling light over the front of my jacket. With a flick of his fingers, he’d undone the button holding it in place and brushed it off my shoulders. With patient ease, he drew it from my arms and placed it aside, taking a step back to study me from head to toe.
“It takes a special woman to sit for an artist, Sara. The trust between them is an intimate bond.”
He cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs drawing delicately over my mouth, my eyebrows, and forehead.
“I can see you are exceptionally beautiful Sara and gifted, I think in the ways of passion, though I daresay you have much you can yet learn. Yet, I see a hunger in your eyes, Sara. One that I find most appealing, if not inspiring, me to…greater things.”
He tipped his head, studying me.
“Have you ever considered wearing your hair down?”
His eyes held mine as he slid his fingers into my hair, jostling it from its coil, causing it to sway, threatening to come undone. I placed my hand on his, interfering. “I only wear it down when I retire in the evening, Mr. Rodin.”
He smiled, slow and with a hint of danger that caused a sinful shiver to rush over my flesh. “Of course, that gives me something to look forward to, my muse.”
He stepped away. “Do you like adventure, Miss Cartwright, the theater, does that appeal to you?”
“I adore the theater, Mr. Rodin. As to adventure, I’ve not much, but I am not adverse to the idea.”
“It’s settled then, to celebrate your new position, I’m going to take you to a special place tonight--one of London’s premiere theaters. I promise it is like nothing you have ever seen." His eyes danced with excitement.
“At his hour?” I asked surprised by his quick turn of conversation.
“The night is still young, Miss Cartwright. Come." He grabbed my jacket and held it for me as I put it back on. I tried to take his sudden whim in stride. After all, I was embarking on a new life, why should I not embrace it?
Giveaway Question: What do think the difference between passion and love is? Do you feel there is a difference?
May the wind be at your back~
Amanda
PRIVATE PARTY APRIL 2009
They are his inspiration. He is their obsession.
THE MASTER & THE MUSES JUNE 2010 “4.5 stars”~RT Bookreviews
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Wednesday, September 5, 2012 at 03:00AM 
