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‘You’re young to receive such an illustrious commission,’ said a countess wearing a shimmering gold dress of liquid satin and diamonds round her neck the size of pigeon eggs. ‘You must have quite prodigious...talents.’
Hannah swallowed. She couldn’t stop the fire igniting in her belly at these insinuations. She knew her worth, the work and the sacrifice she put into her art. Her achievements. She didn’t care what the guests here thought of her. Alessio was the one getting the portrait. She’d never paint any of these people, no matter how much they offered. Even if theybegged, because she didn’t want to know them.
Not the way she was coming to know Alessio.
‘I’ll leave that judgement to others. My job’s to paint. To find the essence of a person.’
‘And have you found the essence of His Highness?’ Those words were delivered with a venomous smile. One which appeared friendly but carried a sting.
‘Not yet. But I’ve never painted a prince before.’
A few people murmured at her response, but she couldn’t understand what was being said. They seemed friendly enough, so she suspected it wasn’t a criticism. She hardly cared. They could think what they wanted. She knew the truth. Then next to her, Alessio straightened. She could almost feel the electric crackle of him from his seat.
‘I suggest, Contessa,that you do your research. Signorina Barrington has won some of the most prestigious portrait competitions in the world. She is the best. There isno onemore qualified to paint my coronation portrait than her.’
His voice bristled with warning, sharp and cold. Now everyone at the table stared at them. Whilst his chill was meant to give a clear message, to her his voice was like being immersed in a warm bath. She basked in his defence, even though it would likely cost him. For a man whose private life was deliberately opaque, he’d allowed the door to crack open a chink, showing in the tiniest of ways that she mattered.
She couldn’t thank him in public, so she smiled benevolently as if praise like this were given to her every day. But, since they sat next to each other, she moved her thigh towards his until their knees touched. A tiny gesture to say thank you in a way she couldn’t immediately vocalise. Hannah applied the smallest amount of pressure, to let Alessio know her move wasn’t accidental. The fingers of his left hand flexed on the tablecloth and he pressed back. The thrill of that secret acknowledgement bubbled through her like the sparkle of champagne. They sat knee to knee, calf to calf, ankle to ankle, and even through the layers of her dress it was as if she could sense the heat burning between them.
The conversation changed after his intervention, the flow of it around the table broken by the royal toast. Hannah stood with everyone else and the sense of loss she suffered at the lack of that supportive touch seemed almost visceral, as if something magical had been broken. She watched Alessio, who managed to look utterly alone even when surrounded by this host of people. There was a blankness about him which showed that any emotion had been well and truly shuttered and locked down. She didn’t know how he managed to eat, other than out of politeness. She sampled the beautiful-looking food and, whilst delicious, it held no appeal. This crowd would likely poison your meal as anything else. It was almost a surprise that Alessio didn’t have an official food taster, they were all so toxic.
‘Have you ridden with His Highness?’ the Countess asked, after they’d resumed their seats. She was surprised the woman hadn’t accepted Alessio’s put-down, but she was young enough to be interested in him for herself and there was a determined gleam in her eye. ‘He’s known as a passionate horseman.’
She decided to tell the truth because enough people had seen her ride with Alessio to make a lie far worse.
‘Yes. Have you?’
Even though she wasn’t looking at him, she was aware as Alessio stiffened, so attuned to him now that she could sense the slow freeze again. He shifted as she pressed her leg to his once more. Letting him know she had this. That he’d protected her, but it was okay for him to accept her help too.
The Countess’s mouth thinned. If looks were daggers, Hannah would be properly skewered. ‘No, I have never been invited to ride by His Highness, but it would be myextremepleasure to do so.’
Hannah raised an eyebrow in a way she hoped looked imperious. ‘Perhaps one day, if you’re a good enough rider, you’ll be lucky and get your chance.’
She didn’t think the woman had the care, intuition or skill to be allowed anywhere near Alessio’s beloved horses. Hannah only realised now the privilege she’d been afforded being allowed to ride Kestia whenever she wished.
The Countess turned her attention to Alessio. ‘Your Highness, it’s an uncommon honour you invited Signorina Barrington to sit at your table.’
He fixed the woman with a cold glare. ‘It’s you who should be honoured, to have such a prestigious artist in your company.’
‘The sad truth,’ Hannah said, no doubt breaking protocol with her interruption but not caring less, ‘is there was a terrible mix-up in the beginning. I was meant to sit with Stefano.’
She was coming to realise gossip was the currency of value fuelling these people, so she’d give them something to talk about. She glanced over to where Stefano sat at a distant table and gave a little wave. He raised his champagne flute and toasted her in response.
‘You were looking forward to sitting with His Highness’s private secretary?’
‘Oh, yes. Very much,’ Hannah said. ‘But there’s always tomorrow.’
This could have been a pleasant evening in a magnificent room, with exquisite food and wine. Her fantasy for just one night. She resented the people here intent on ruining it. Some of them were trying to goad Alessio’s responses, to play a game in which there could be no winners.
The thing was, they hadn’t counted on her.
Alessio adjusted the napkin on his lap. As he did so his hand brushed hers, feather-light. So fleeting it could have been a mistake, but she knew it hadn’t been. Her breathing hitched, a shiver of pleasure running through her, settling low and heavy.
Tonight, she and Alessio were a team. None of the people here could touch them. She ate some more food, sipped more champagne. All the time exquisitely aware of the man sitting next to her. And as their legs touched under the table once more, their secret, she prayed this dinner was over soon and that she’d done enough.
CHAPTER SIX
THEJOURNEYBACKto the palace had been in near silence. There was too much going through Alessio’s head for him to say anything at all. The sly comments, the innuendos, all directed at one woman.
