A Tangled Affair. Fiona BrandЧитать онлайн книгу.
of her throat but couldn’t wash away the deepening sense of hurt.
Lilah Cole was beautiful, elegant and likable, but nothing could change the fact that Lilah’s easy acceptance into the Atraeus fold should have been her moment.
The party swelled as more family and friends arrived. Abandoning her champagne flute on a nearby sideboard, Carla joined the movement out onto a large stone balcony overlooking the sea.
Feeling awkward and isolated amidst the crowd, she threaded her way through the revelers to the parapet and stared out at the expansive view. The breeze gusted, laced with the scent of the sea, sending coils of hair across her cheeks and teasing at the flimsy silk of her dress, briefly exposing more leg than she had planned.
Lucas’s gaze burned over her, filled with censure, not the desire that had sizzled between them for the past two years.
Cheeks burning, she snapped her dress back into place, her mood plummeting further as Lilah joined Lucas. Despite the breeze, Lilah’s hair was neat and perfect, her dress subtly sensual with a classic pureness of line that suddenly made Carla feel cheap and brassy, all sex and dazzle against Lilah’s demure elegance. Her cheeks grew hotter as she considered what she was wearing under the red silk. Again, nothing with any degree of subtlety. Every flimsy stitch was designed to entice.
She had taken a crazy risk in dressing so flamboyantly, practically begging for the continuation of their relationship. After the distance of the past two months she should have had more sense than to wear her heart on her sleeve. Jerking her gaze away, she tried to concentrate on the moon sliding up over the horizon, the churning floodlit water below the castello.
A cool gust of wind sent more hair whipping around her cheeks. Temporarily blinded, she snatched at her billowing hemline. Strong fingers gripped her elbow, steadying her. Heart-stoppingly familiar dark eyes clashed with hers. Not Lucas, Zane Atraeus.
“Steady. I’ve got you. Come over here, out of the wind before we lose you over the side.”
Zane’s voice was deep, mild and low-key, more American than Medinian, thanks to his Californian mother and upbringing. With his checkered, illegitimate past and lady-killer reputation, Zane was, of the three brothers, definitely the most approachable and she wondered a little desperately why she hadn’t been able to fall for him instead of Lucas. “Thanks for the rescue.”
He sent her an enigmatic look. “Damsels in distress are always my business.”
The warmth in her cheeks flared a little brighter. The suspicion that Zane wasn’t just talking about the wind, that he knew about her affair with Lucas, coalesced into certainty.
He positioned her in the lee of a stone wall festooned with ivy. “Can I get you a drink?”
A reckless impulse seized Carla as she glanced across at Lucas. “Why not?”
With his arm draped casually across the stone parapet behind Lilah, his stance was male and protective, openly claiming Lilah as his, although he wasn’t touching her in any way.
Unbidden, a small kernel of hope flared to life at that small, polite distance. Ten minutes ago, Carla had been certain they were an established couple; that to be here, at a family wedding, Lucas would have had to have slept with Lilah. Now she was abruptly certain they had not yet progressed to the bedroom. There was a definite air of restraint underpinning the glow on Lilah’s face, and despite his possessive stance, Lucas was preserving a definite distance.
A waiter swung by. Zane handed her a flute of champagne. “Do you think they’ve slept together?”
Carla’s hand jerked at the question. Champagne splashed over her fingers. She dragged her gaze from the clean line of Lucas’s profile and glanced at Zane. His expression was oddly grim, his jaw set. “I don’t know why you’re asking me that question.”
Zane, who hadn’t bothered with champagne, gave her a steady look, and humiliation curled through her. He knew.
Carla wondered a little wildly how he had found out and if everyone on the balcony knew that she was Lucas’s ditched ex.
Zane’s expression was dismissive. “Don’t worry, it was a lucky guess.”
Relief flooded her as she swallowed a mouthful of champagne. A few seconds later her head began to spin and she resolved not to drink any more.
Zane’s attention was no longer on her; it was riveted on Lilah and realization hit. She wasn’t the only one struggling here. “You want Lilah.”
The grim anger she had glimpsed winked out of existence. “If I was in the market for marriage, maybe.”
“Which, I take it, you’re not.”
Zane’s dark gaze zeroed in on hers, but Carla realized he still barely logged her presence. “No. Are you interested in art?”
Carla blinked at the sudden change of subject. “Yes.”
“If you want out of this wind, I’ll be happy to show you the rogue’s gallery.”
She had glimpsed the broad gallery that housed the Atraeus family portraits, some painted by acknowledged masters, but hadn’t had time to view them. “I would love to take a closer look at the family portraits.”
Anything to get her off the balcony. “Just do me one favor. Put your arm around my waist.”
“And make it look good?”
Carla’s chin jerked up a fraction. “If you don’t mind.”
The unflattering lack of reaction to her suggestion should have rubbed salt into the wound, but Carla was beyond caring. She was dying by inches but she was determined not to be any more tragic than she had to be.
Lucas’s gaze burned over her as she handed her drink to a waiter then allowed Zane’s arm to settle around her waist. As they strolled past Lucas, she was forcibly struck by the notion that he was jealous.
Confusion rocked her. She hadn’t consciously set out to make Lucas jealous; her main concern from the moment she had realized that Lucas and Lilah were together had been self-preservation. Lucas being jealous made no sense unless he still wanted her, and how could that be when he had already chosen another woman?
Carla was relieved when Zane dropped his arm the second they were out of sight of the balcony. After a short walk through flagged corridors, they entered the gallery. Along one wall, arched windows provided spectacular views of the moonlit sea. The opposite wall was softly lit and lined with exquisite paintings.
The tingling sense of alarm, as if at some level she was aware of Lucas’s displeasure, continued as they strolled past rank after rank of gorgeous rich oils. Most had been painted pre-1900s, before the once wealthy and noble Atraeus family had fallen on hard times. Lucas’s grandfather, after discovering an obscenely rich gold mine, had since purchased most of the paintings back from private collections and museums.
The men were clearly of the Atraeus bloodline, with strong jaws and aquiline profiles. The women, almost without exception, looked like Botticelli angels: beautiful, demure, virginal.
Zane paused beside a vibrant painting of an Atraeus ancestor who looked more like a pirate than a noble lord. His lady was a serene, quiet dove with a steely glint in her eye. With her long, slanting eyes and delicate bones, the woman bore an uncanny resemblance to Lilah. “As you can see it’s a mixture of sinners and saints. It seemed that the more dissolute and marauding the Atraeus male, the more powerful his desire for a saint.”
Carla heard the measured tread of footsteps. Her heart sped up because she was almost sure it was Lucas. “And is that what Atraeus men are searching for today?”
Zane shrugged. “I can’t speak for my brothers. I’m not your typical Atraeus male.”
Her jaw tightened. “But the idea of a pure, untouched bride still has a certain appeal.”
“Maybe.” He sent her a flashing grin that made