Untrue Colors (Entangled Select Suspense) Read Online Free PDF

another. Men with money had secrets, usually bad ones. What did she know of Henry, anyway? Nothing.
    Based on his gentle hold of her hand and the easy smile he offered, he seemed to care for her. Luc had been romantic once, too. She needed to remind herself of him and why she was running, even when this man didn’t seem as cruel. In fact, he acted more protective than controlling. She left her hand in his, just for now. They descended the main staircase, chatting nonstop about their preferred artists.
    He paused on the landing and bent toward her. Was he going to kiss her? Alex took a step away from him. Too much, too soon.
    “Who’s the architect of the house?” she asked, trying not to appear overwhelmed by Henry’s presence.
    “John Dover.” His emerald eyes were intense and mesmerizing. She needed fresh air.
    “It’s really beautiful.” She began to descend the stairs again and pointed to a few of the pieces. He obliged her by explaining how he acquired some of the paintings. They were in wonderful shape. Not many people appreciated art the way she did. Not many people could see art the way she did. Henry may not have an appraiser’s eye, but he genuinely cared about the pieces he owned.
    The art in his house revealed high value and depth in the quality and the range of the works. He seemed to exist comfortably with such riches surrounding him. Imagine living side by side with these pieces, greeting each new day staring into a two-hundred-year-old mirror or reading a book while perched on a chair that existed at the time of Queen Victoria. And not just any chair, but a chair of such exceptional workmanship, the temptation to lock it away for its own protection would be overwhelming.
    All her thoughts dissipated when she approached the final room. Henry, walking close to her and causing her heart to beat too fast, guided her inside a large space with paintings on all of the walls and statues interspersed with several small sitting areas. A personal art gallery. Amazing.
    “What do you think?”
    “You certainly saved the best for last.”
    A black-and-white charcoal portrait by Camille Pissarro hung on one wall along with several other lithographs and landscapes from some of her favorite artists. Henry remained near the doorway as she walked slowly by each one, savoring the textures, the colors, and the emotions.
    Turning to the next wall, she paused and stepped closer to the large portrait hanging there. Why would he have a newer imitation mixed into his fabulous collection? “Everything is impressive except your Sir Thomas Lawrence reproduction. It’s a quality piece, but I’m unaware of anything Lawrence painted involving a blonde aristocratic lady sitting on a chestnut mare.”
    Henry came up beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s not a fake.”
    “Of course it is.”
    Henry leaned his gorgeous face directly in front of hers again. Those eyes could hypnotize and seduce the most virtuous woman into his bed. She breathed him in. His breath tasted sweet, like vanilla mixed with one of Simon’s cinnamon buns. His tone, however, contained an acidic edge. “That picture has been in my family since the early eighteen hundreds. She’s my ancestor, Lady Elizabeth Gillett.”
    Lady Elizabeth Gillett smiled down on them with the bluest of eyes. Her hair, parted in the middle, had tight curls gracing each side of her face. Although her yellow dress seemed one decade before a true Regency style, the wider waistband and lower neckline made Lady Liz a very sexy ancestor. Studying the paint, Alex observed barely visible cracks throughout the oil brush strokes, as expected with an oil painting older than the advent of locomotives or a new painting created with paint additives.
    “I’m sorry. I overstepped my bounds. You didn’t ask for my opinion. You need somebody from one of the big auction houses. They have experts on staff who can give a professional opinion.” She would know. She’d taught