“I’d actually just like to wander about.”

Aiden strolled with her as she wended her way among the bookcases, touching a spine here and there, imagining all the various worlds into which a person could escape. Eventually they made their way upstairs. Flowers had been added to the sitting areas, making them appear cozier. All the shelves on either side of the fireplace were crammed with books, but it was what hung above the mantelpiece that snagged her attention, and like someone caught in a trance, she floated toward it, captivated. The painting depicted a young woman lounging on a settee, reading a book, a stack of tomes scattered on the floor about her. While her face was muted and soft, the lady was obviously Fancy. “You created this, capturing Fancy’s love of reading.”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. She recognized his handiwork, the care that went into it, the love he delivered with every brushstroke. “I think you could make a fortune as an artist.”

“Its value comes from the pleasure it brings me.”

And that it brought others.

To her left, near a window, was the nook Fancy had designed as an area for children to read. On the wall were other paintings, smaller ones, seemingly arranged haphazardly. As she neared, she laughed at the sight of a cat, dog, hedgehog, dormouse, unicorn, and mermaid reading, each in their own little world, their own individual frames. He had told her he painted from memory, but it was also obvious he had quite the vivid imagination. “You created these as well. Who’d have thought Aiden Trewlove had a bit of whimsy to him?”

Turning, she smiled, touched to see his cheeks darkening with the heat of embarrassment. “Is that the reason you don’t sign them? So people won’t realize you possess a tender heart?”

“I don’t do them for the acclaim, so I don’t see any need to put my name to them. They’re just a bit of fun.”

But they were so much more. Just as he was.

“They’re going to delight the children.” And she couldn’t help but wonder if he would create flights of fancy for his own offspring—and stopped herself from going further and contemplating what the woman who gave them to him would be like. If they continued to see each other, she couldn’t give him any more children. They would have to return to using the sheaths. But eventually, he might want a real family that he didn’t have to hide away.

He merely shrugged. “Walls weren’t meant to be bare. I painted some pictures for Gillie’s pub.”

“Mermaids and unicorns?”

He grinned. “Of course. So I couldn’t very well not paint something for Fancy.” He stepped nearer, trailed his finger along her chin. “I should paint something for you. What would you like?”