pressed a switch, and the lights came up. Mia’s mouth fell open at the faces that stared back. The walls were lined with portraits, dark-haired, dark-eyed men and beautiful women painted on canvasses taller than she was.
“This is your family?”
“ Oui. ” When he smiled, she saw the resemblance. Generations of DeLeon men smiled from their frames the same way. A touch of arrogance, a mess of confidence, and an incredible amount of charm.
She shook her head. Then she noticed the painting at the end of the gallery, a woman with brilliant green eyes next to a man who looked very much like Abby’s soon-to-be Father-in-law.
“My God!” The woman had exactly Abby’s eyes, and there was something about the line of her jaw, and her smile. “Look at that!”
”Hm?” Mia pointed and Jean looked up. “Ah. Dame Anessa. Oui , she is very beautiful.”
“She looks like Abby!”
He laughed. “Perhaps in passing. But I expect any woman Garrit married would look like someone of our ancestors. There are so many.”
Jean’s hand found the small of her back, propelling her gently down the hall. She glanced back over her shoulder once more at the portrait. The eyes really were uncanny.
“So odd! Do you suppose he realizes it?”
“ Non. ”
“How do you know?”
He smiled down at her. “I imagine he would have mentioned it. But we rarely come here, anyway.”
When they reached the other end of the hall, he turned the lights off, and the portraits disappeared back into darkness. He led her through another dark room and into a well-lit hallway on the other side. One of his cousins—and Mia couldn’t help but notice the man was only half dressed—called something to him in French, and Jean grinned, offering him a rather rude salute in return.
“If you were trying to impress me, you didn’t need to.” She tugged at the ends of his bow-tie, hanging loose beneath his collar.
“ Non. ” Jean pushed open a door to a large bedroom, at last. His eyes were almost black, though she wasn’t certain if it was the light, or the way he looked at her. Either way, it was delicious. “I lacked the patience to bring you the long way.”
She arched an eyebrow, not quite able to suppress a smile. “That wasn’t the long way?”
He smirked. “It is a very, very large estate.”
Mia dropped her shoes on the carpet, and let him take her directly to bed.
Two
Adam
Ah, the delightful disarray of a wedding. So many people coming and going, no one noticed an extra body, each assuming the man in question belonged to the other side of the family even without his particular talents of misdirection. Adam whistled as he walked down the long hallway toward the courtyard at the heart of the manor, complete with convenient directions for those poor English relatives of Eve’s, no doubt. Did these Lions think they had a monopoly on antique manor houses? As if England didn’t have its share of rambling estates, with eccentric passageways built by paranoid noblemen.
But then, Eve’s family would be the most pretentious of Frenchmen, with all that noble history behind them. Adam patted his coat pocket, but his gift was still accounted for. A lovingly preserved Golden Lion, the ancient currency of the DeLeon family and worth a small fortune in its weight alone, even if it hadn’t been historically significant. A peace offering, he’d decided, though even carrying the thing on his person, with its stamped Mjölnir on the reverse side, made him decidedly uncomfortable. Then again, the hair on the back of his neck had started prickling the moment he’d set foot onto DeLeon lands. It had to have something to do with that damned thunder god, and either way, he was going to find out.
The processional had begun to play, and Adam quickened his steps. Part of him couldn’t help but hope that she’d hesitate—that if he appeared at just the right moment, she’d call the whole thing off and realize the mistake she’d made.
Eve
“This is your family?”
“ Oui. ” When he smiled, she saw the resemblance. Generations of DeLeon men smiled from their frames the same way. A touch of arrogance, a mess of confidence, and an incredible amount of charm.
She shook her head. Then she noticed the painting at the end of the gallery, a woman with brilliant green eyes next to a man who looked very much like Abby’s soon-to-be Father-in-law.
“My God!” The woman had exactly Abby’s eyes, and there was something about the line of her jaw, and her smile. “Look at that!”
”Hm?” Mia pointed and Jean looked up. “Ah. Dame Anessa. Oui , she is very beautiful.”
“She looks like Abby!”
He laughed. “Perhaps in passing. But I expect any woman Garrit married would look like someone of our ancestors. There are so many.”
Jean’s hand found the small of her back, propelling her gently down the hall. She glanced back over her shoulder once more at the portrait. The eyes really were uncanny.
“So odd! Do you suppose he realizes it?”
“ Non. ”
“How do you know?”
He smiled down at her. “I imagine he would have mentioned it. But we rarely come here, anyway.”
When they reached the other end of the hall, he turned the lights off, and the portraits disappeared back into darkness. He led her through another dark room and into a well-lit hallway on the other side. One of his cousins—and Mia couldn’t help but notice the man was only half dressed—called something to him in French, and Jean grinned, offering him a rather rude salute in return.
“If you were trying to impress me, you didn’t need to.” She tugged at the ends of his bow-tie, hanging loose beneath his collar.
“ Non. ” Jean pushed open a door to a large bedroom, at last. His eyes were almost black, though she wasn’t certain if it was the light, or the way he looked at her. Either way, it was delicious. “I lacked the patience to bring you the long way.”
She arched an eyebrow, not quite able to suppress a smile. “That wasn’t the long way?”
He smirked. “It is a very, very large estate.”
Mia dropped her shoes on the carpet, and let him take her directly to bed.
Two
Adam
Ah, the delightful disarray of a wedding. So many people coming and going, no one noticed an extra body, each assuming the man in question belonged to the other side of the family even without his particular talents of misdirection. Adam whistled as he walked down the long hallway toward the courtyard at the heart of the manor, complete with convenient directions for those poor English relatives of Eve’s, no doubt. Did these Lions think they had a monopoly on antique manor houses? As if England didn’t have its share of rambling estates, with eccentric passageways built by paranoid noblemen.
But then, Eve’s family would be the most pretentious of Frenchmen, with all that noble history behind them. Adam patted his coat pocket, but his gift was still accounted for. A lovingly preserved Golden Lion, the ancient currency of the DeLeon family and worth a small fortune in its weight alone, even if it hadn’t been historically significant. A peace offering, he’d decided, though even carrying the thing on his person, with its stamped Mjölnir on the reverse side, made him decidedly uncomfortable. Then again, the hair on the back of his neck had started prickling the moment he’d set foot onto DeLeon lands. It had to have something to do with that damned thunder god, and either way, he was going to find out.
The processional had begun to play, and Adam quickened his steps. Part of him couldn’t help but hope that she’d hesitate—that if he appeared at just the right moment, she’d call the whole thing off and realize the mistake she’d made.
Eve
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