The Helen Bianchin Collection. HELEN BIANCHINЧитать онлайн книгу.
at the thought of his reaction when he did.
Although it was possible, she wasn’t sure the two men had ever met. A hysterical bubble of laughter rose and died in her throat.
Dear heaven. Camille and Luc seated at their table? How cruel could fate be?
Hannah was aware the instant Miguel caught sight of them, and could only wonder if anyone else noticed the way his body uncoiled and then became frighteningly still. Like a jungle animal scenting an enemy and assessing when to strike.
‘Miguel, Hannah.’ Camille resembled an aristocratic cat who’d just snacked on caviare and cream.
All it took was one glance at Camille’s bland expression to guess that Luc’s invitation had been deliberately orchestrated.
‘Camille.’ She thought her face would crack with the strain of keeping a smile pinned on her face as she acknowledged the Frenchwoman.
What was Luc doing here? Not so much Australia, or even Melbourne, but this particular charity event, and partnering Camille?
It didn’t take a genius to arrive at the correct answer, Hannah decided wryly. Even the most kindly disposed person would suspect Camille of mischief-making. Luc’s appearance here simply reinforced Hannah’s belief that Camille was not only serious in her pursuit of Miguel, but she’d stop at nothing to gain her objective.
So it was war. Well, she was very good at self-protection. She had years of experience in dealing with it. If Camille thought snaring Miguel would be a walkover, she had another think coming!
‘You know each other, of course,’ Camille purred as she slid into her seat, and Hannah opted for confrontational strategy.
‘The media made much of it at the time.’ She looked at Luc, wanting to sear him to a burnt frizzle on the spot. ‘I hope they paid you well.’
‘Handsomely.’ His smile would have melted many a hardened female heart.
But not hers. ‘Let me introduce my husband, Miguel Santanas.’
Miguel was incredibly polite. Anyone who knew him would have blanched at the icy silkiness apparent in his voice.
Luc, however, seemed totally oblivious.
Wine stewards began serving drinks, and the event began with an introductory speech by the charity chairwoman, followed by the MC who outlined the evening’s entertainment.
The organisation was very smooth as models strutted the catwalk to funky music while waiters served the starter.
Hannah looked at the artistically arranged seafood in a bed of salad greens, and merely forked a few morsels, her appetite seriously impaired by the presence of not one enemy, but two, in her immediate vicinity.
She would have given anything to be able to walk out of the ballroom and take a taxi home. Except that would amount to running away, and her pride forbade such an option.
Pretend, a tiny voice urged, and act as if you don’t have a care in the world.
Miguel ordered champagne, and indicated that the steward should fill her flute. Hannah cast him an enquiring glance and caught the faint smile curving the edge of his mouth, the steady gleam apparent as he raised his glass in a silent salute.
He knew, of course, exactly who Luc Dubois was, and the part Luc had played in her life.
‘What is this in aid of?’ Hannah queried quietly, slanting one eyebrow in quizzical humour as she touched the rim of her flute to his. ‘Courage?’
‘Do you need it?’
She inclined her head slightly, and offered with soft-edged mockery, ‘This is going to be one hell of an evening.’
‘Do you want to leave?’
Her eyes widened. He’d do that for her? ‘No.’ Her voice was steady, but inside her heart missed a beat.
The models concluded showing the after-five segment, and the MC announced a well-known comedian who delivered a few amusing and occasionally risqué anecdotes while an army of waiters removed plates and the stewards tended to the guests’ drinking needs.
Two singers performed two numbers, after which the models returned to the catwalk with a comprehensive display of evening wear.
It was while the main course was being served that Camille chose to engage Miguel’s attention with a flirtatious coquetry that made Hannah barely refrain from grinding her teeth in angry vexation.
‘Am I missing something here?’ Elise ventured, sotto voce. ‘Or is the beautiful Camille on a flirting mission with Miguel?’
‘If he responds,’ Hannah murmured, ‘he’s dead meat.’
‘Luc is the smokescreen, or the ammunition?’
‘Both, I imagine.’
Elise’s features softened in empathy. ‘Tread carefully.’
Now would be a good time to utilise the powder room, and with a murmured excuse she slipped out from her chair.
Miguel could indulge in polite conversation with Camille if he chose, but she didn’t have to stay and watch Camille’s play-acting!
‘I’ll come with you.’ Elise rose to her feet and together they began making their way towards one of the exits.
Hannah paused to greet a few friends as she threaded her way through the ballroom, and she took unnecessary time freshening her make-up.
Elise joined her after using the facilities, and she pressed a hand to her waist, then groaned and vanished into a stall, only to emerge looking slightly pale and wan.
Comprehension was immediate. ‘You’re pregnant?’
Elise managed a faint smile. ‘After two sons, this one has to be a girl. Already she’s exerting her personality in a way neither of the two boys did.’
‘Uh-huh,’ Hannah conceded with an impish grin. ‘I gather Alejandro knows?’
‘He finds it incredibly amusing.’
‘Naturally, he’ll be captivated from the instant she’s born and be hers to command within minutes.’
Elise’s gaze misted. ‘He’s a wonderful father.’
‘Are you okay?’
‘Oh, yes. I get to throw up on a regular basis halfway through breakfast and dinner.’ She opened her evening purse and produced a toothbrush and paste. ‘Before and after, I’m fine.’
Minutes later, their make-up restored, they moved towards the door, only to see Alejandro standing immediately outside in the vestibule.
Oh, my, Hannah breathed silently. Elise was his most precious possession. It was evident in the way he looked at her, the protective arm that immediately circled her waist. Body language that was intense and evocative.
It must be wonderful to share that kind of emotion, to be twin halves of a whole, and so complete. Together they returned to their table, and Miguel cast her a discerning look as she regained her seat. She was willing to swear she caught a glimmer of amusement evident as she reached for her wine.
‘Your meal has cooled.’ He beckoned a waiter and instructed another plate be served. Something that was done with alacrity.
‘I’m not really hungry.’
‘Nevertheless you will eat something,’ Miguel chastised silkily, and saw her eyes widen as he lifted a hand and brushed the edge of her cheek with his fingers.
‘What are you doing?’
His mouth formed a sensual curve. ‘It’s called reassurance.’
‘The attentive husband bit, huh?’ Hannah queried with a touch of mockery.
‘Something like that.’