who is being watched?

                                          

                                              Thanks Nathan Sowers for the lovely photo prompt

My eyes never left the villa. Her auburn hair and lacy back intrigued me about the beauty of her unseen enigmatic face. Sunshine didn’t touch her face, I concluded. 

Was she a wordsmith assimilating every word and plot of the novel? Or was her brush illuminating the face of the canvas? I had no chance of knowing.

Guilt made inroads into my heart. Was she aware that she was being watched?

The winsome lass smiled. The eyes watching her were oblivious of being watched.

She tilted the mirror and it reflected the dilapidated wooden structure and the man being observed.

                                                         Written for : Friday Fictioneers