Chapter 113

Clarette was momentarily stunned by Lionel’s question. She asked again, doubting her ears.

“By ‘completely,’ you mean… even underwear… you’d take it all off?”

“Yes.”

Clarette stared at Duke Valentin, dressed impeccably in formal attire. The contrast between his flawless suit and his words was dizzying.

She thought of Lionel’s n*ked body and their moments in bed, and her cheeks flushed slightly. Hoping he wouldn’t notice her thoughts, she answered calmly.

“Lionel, you don’t need to go that far. Exposing, um, that part is only necessary for a few specific subjects…”

“But isn’t it better to show everything? The National Art Museum, the Moerven Art Museum, whether it’s sculptures or paintings, everyone’s n*ked.”

Lionel’s point wasn’t wrong. When expressing the beauty of the human body, especially when depicting ancient gods, clothing was unnecessary. Whether to dress the model depended on the client or the model’s wishes.

Yet Clarette still hesitated and shook her head.

“Still, you don’t have to take it all off. I’m satisfied as it is. It’s enough for the subject…”

Lionel glanced at her, murmuring as she struggled to meet his eyes.

“Clarette, are you embarrassed?”

There was no answer. Lionel watched her silence with interest and pressed further.

“You’re embarrassed just to look and draw? It’s not like I’m touching you or putting anything anywhere…”

“Stop it.”

Lionel looked at Clarette, whose ears were now red, and chuckled.

“You’ve already seen everything, my body. I thought you were used to it.”

“It’s not about being shy. The reason I hesitate is… just because the model is you.”

“It’s a problem because it’s me? Why?”

“It was fine before we slept together, but lately, when I see you n*ked, I keep having other thoughts. Honestly, it distracts me.”

“What kind of thoughts do you have when you look at me?”

Clarette pressed her lips together and turned her gaze to the canvas. Lionel enjoyed her silent protest, then suddenly asked a question that came to mind.

“If it’s a problem because I’m the model, does that mean you’d be fine with another man being n*ked?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen another man’s… so I don’t know how it would feel…”

Clarette recalled the n*de sketch sessions she’d seen as a teenager in the atelier. Her father’s apprentices waited for the male n*de model to climb onto the central platform and remove his robe to pose.

<Clarette, you shouldn’t be here. It’s disrespectful to the model if a woman is watching.>

Thiago had chased Clarette, who was watching from the stairs, up to the second floor. She regretfully climbed the stairs, sneaking a look back.

The male n*de model had already removed his robe, showing his bare back with nothing on.

Clarette’s eyes widened at the broad back and angular, narrow hips, so different from a woman’s body. As the man slowly turned to pose,

<Clarette!>

Thiago’s scolding forced her to quickly turn away and hurry up the stairs. Ah, how disappointed she’d been then.

It had been her first chance to see a n*ked man. If she’d started practicing n*de painting from then, her art might have reached a higher level by now.

“Clarette.”

Suddenly, Lionel’s voice startled her, and she turned her head. Her hand had long since stopped, lost in old memories.

Lionel quietly watched her, his voice subdued.

“Focus on me in front of you. Don’t think about other men.”

“…Yes, sorry.”

Clarette apologized obediently, and Lionel’s brow twitched.

What? ‘Sorry’?

That was practically an admission she’d thought of another man.

Lionel stared at her as she resumed sketching as if nothing had happened.

He’d felt jealous before, but this feeling was still unfamiliar. He silently repeated wishes he couldn’t say aloud.

No matter how hard it is to focus, no matter how embarrassing, let her draw only me for any n*de. Don’t think of undressing another man—want only my body.

Meanwhile, Clarette, unaware of Lionel’s anxious thoughts, gradually finished her sketch.

“Drawing Jeremy in the tea room definitely helped. The composition is stable. Want to check?”

She wiped her charcoal-stained hand and called Lionel. He walked over and looked down at the portrait of himself as Duke Valentin.

As expected, Clarette was a master of portraiture. The sketch was flawless, with no part lacking or needing correction. The Duke Valentin in the painting radiated calm dignity and unapproachable majesty.

Only Lionel found his unfamiliar image awkward.

“Isn’t it too idealized? I look so aristocratic and elegant.”

“I drew exactly what I saw.”

“But you said before that the artist interprets the model.”

“That’s right. So it means I see you this way.”

Clarette looked up at Lionel standing beside her and smiled gently.

“You look noble and elegant now. Handsome, trustworthy, and wonderful. That’s why I painted you like this.”

Her tone was calm, but her expression revealed deep affection. Lionel looked down at her lovely smile and bent closer.

She didn’t avoid his approaching lips. Since their trip to the eastern forest, their intimacy had become much more natural.

As Lionel kissed her lightly, he pulled Clarette’s shoulders closer. She stroked his gloved hand, gently tugging at the glove’s fingertips as if she wanted him to touch her with his bare hand.

Lionel briefly moved away and turned toward the glass door. He drew the white, thin curtain, blocking the garden view and sunlight, dimming the room.

Having skillfully created a private space, Lionel returned. He looked down at Clarette, who seemed eager for another kiss, then knelt on the marble floor.

“Lionel…?”

Clarette watched him kneel and remove his gloves in a daze. She thought he’d take her to the sofa in the tea room.

But Lionel placed his gloves on the easel and wrapped his bare hand around her ankle. Slowly, his hand lifted the hem of her light summer dress. Clarette shivered as his lips softly touched her knee.

“Wait, Lionel. Not here, let’s go to the annex…”

“No.”

Lionel refused flatly, moving between her knees. Clarette instinctively tried to push his head away, but paused as she felt his neatly groomed golden hair.

She couldn’t bring herself to ruin the perfect image of Duke Valentin. If his carefully styled look became disheveled, everyone in the mansion would know.

What the two had done in this room. What kind of relationship Duke Valentin and his artist had.

Lionel, noticing her hesitant touch, smiled openly. He kissed her soft, pale skin and whispered secretly.

“Stay seated. Don’t make a sound—someone might be in the hallway.”

“Then maybe we should stop… ah!”

As Clarette tried to pull away, Lionel teasingly bit the soft flesh inside her thigh. When she grabbed his hand in protest and dug her nails in, Lionel laughed quietly, enjoying her reaction.

Now Clarette could only look at him, settled between her legs. The Duke Valentin who had modeled was the perfect aristocrat, but the Lionel before her was just a man desperate to touch his lover.

“Hold out, Clarette. If necessary, you can cover your mouth.”

Before she could react, a brief rendezvous began. Following Lionel’s advice, Clarette covered her mouth with one hand and held his shoulder with the other.

Outside the quiet tea room, only the occasional creak of chairs echoed in the hallway.