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“What did you think of him?”

“A deflection rather than an evasion.” Lucy tugged his hair to let him know she knew he was prevaricating. “I know the difference, Mr. Quinn. I liked the bit of him I saw tonight. He hides behind his wealth. He’s not ostentatious—"

“You don’t think the Rolex or the Merc are ostentatious?” he muttered.

“Your prejudices are showing. I’m betting his relationship with wealth is complicated.” Lucy recalled the caution Hunter had carried. “He wouldn’t be an easy man to live with. His comment about risk was ‘verra’ interesting, as Grandpa would say.” It occurred to Lucy she might benefit from continuing that interesting conversation about risk. Just not now. Lucy walked her fingers from Niall’s sternum to his navel. “I prefer a man whose body reflects his labour.”

He held up a hand and examined it. “Callouses and nicks?”

“I’m talking about your stamina and your dedication to the task at hand.” Her hand drifted lower. “Youareinterested.”

CHAPTER TEN

Niall stared into space, his mind on Lucy and the bed he’d forced himself to leave. She—it—was warm and welcoming. Closing her eyes and saying she wanted to learn him by touch smashed all his barricades. She’d ambushed him with his idea to go slowly. He’d promised her self-restraint, but it was a near thing. Making love to Lucy was shockingly wonderfully intimate. She exposed needs he’d tried to lock down.

Whisht, I’m going all dewy-eyed and daft like a girl.

The kettle screamed. He shook his head and came back to the workshop, the pot of tea he was brewing, and the day’s labour ahead of him. She’d asked to come today. But that was before they’d spent a night in each other’s arms. Would she come?

Bad idea, Quinn.

Pouring the first cup of tea, he surveyed his workshop. A night with Lucy, and he was ready to believe he could have everything he’d dreamed of.

Leopold’s would be by at ten to pick up the finished frames and deliver the new artwork. In a few weeks his twelve-month contract with the gallery would finish, his share of his da’s debts paid.

His debt to Cam had become more complicated. His dealings with Lucy’s granda had been based on fair exchange. Until the will.

Niall would join the foundation, but he’d pay full rent. His work for Lucy was stemming the hole in her cash flow problem. Not so different from his deal with Cam.

All up, the profits from his Mondays with Lucy would put a serious dent in a year’s commercial rent. When the new contract started, he’d restore more pieces to satisfy himself he was meeting the McTavish’s as equals, not sponging off their charity.

He drained his cup. Delivering on the mentorship was doable. He’d have a full year to research ideas, talk to fellow artisans, reflect on his own learning and devise a program he could be proud of.

His exhibition was the lynchpin. Recent professional success would attract the high-quality candidates Cam and Lucy envisaged.

“Your work is every bit as important as Liam’s or Mr. Property-developer Hunter’s.” He grinned at the recollection. Thank heavens Lucy understood it took time to craft beauty. She’d chosen him as her lover, not a man who hired a Merc. She would always be antiques royalty, but he was finding his place. They were finding their rhythm.