Nicola Cornick – Desired (страница 14)

“My fig leaf,” Tess said. “How very picturesque a description, my lord.”

“And how appropriate, since it seems that your clothes are always coming off,” Owen said. “At the brothel, in those paintings by Melton that everyone is talking about …”

The light died from her eyes. “I concede that that is certainly how it appears,” she said. She sounded cold now, lifeless. She shifted on the chair. “The paintings are from a collection belonging to my second husband,” she said. “They were never intended to be on show to the public, but—” she shrugged “—Mr. Melton must make his fortune as he sees fit.”

That shrug, Owen thought, covered more than a little distaste and a healthy dose of anger. Teresa Darent might pretend aristocratic indifference towards Melton and his impudence in making his fortune from her body, but Owen could sense that she had been deeply hurt and offended by it. Once again his protective instincts stirred. He reined them in sharply.

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