Sullivan's Woman by Nora Roberts

rather dreamlike effect.” Hearing Gail’s comment, Cassidy realized they were discussing the painting. She frowned as she applied blusher to her cheeks. He lets her look at it, she thought resentfully. Why not me? “It seems almost sentimental. That should be a surprise to the art world.”
    â€œSentimental, yes.” The Italian voice cut in while Cassidy now eavesdropped shamelessly. “But there is passion in this play of color here, and a rather cool practicality in the line of the dress. I’m intrigued, Colin; I can’t figure out your intention.”
    â€œI have more than one,” Cassidy heard him answer in his dry, ironic tone.
    â€œHow well I know.” The Italian chuckled, then made a sound of curiosity. “You have not begun the face.”
    â€œNo.” Cassidy recognized the dismissal in the word, but the Italian ignored it.
    â€œShe interests me . . . and you, too, it appears. She would be beautiful, of course, and young enough to suit the dress and the violets. Still, she must have something more.” Cassidy waited for Colin’s reply, but none came. The Italian continued, undaunted. “Will you keep her hidden, my friend?”
    â€œYes, Colin, where is Cassidy?” Gail’s question held an undertone of amusement that made Cassidy’s eyes narrow. “You know she’d adore meeting Vince.” She gave a light laugh. “She is rather a sweet-looking thing. Don’t tell me we ran her off?”
    Thoroughly annoyed with the condescending description, Cassidy turned and opened the door. “Not at all,” she said and gave the trio by the easel a brilliant smile. “And of course I’d adore meeting Vince.” She saw Gail’s eyes glitter with a quick fury, then shifted her gaze to Colin. His face told her nothing, and again her gaze shifted.
    The man beside Colin was nearly a head shorter, but his lean build and proud carriage gave the illusion of height. His hair was as dark as Colin’s, but straight, and his eyes were darkly brown against the olive of his skin. He had smooth, handsome features, and when he smiled he was all but irresistible.
    â€œAh,
bella
.” The compliment was a sigh before he crossed the room to take both of Cassidy’s hands in his. “
Bellisima
. But of course, she is perfection. Where did you find her, Colin?” he demanded as his eyes caressed her face. “I will go and set up camp there until I find a prize of my own.”
    Cassidy laughed, amused by his undisguised flirtation. “In the fog,” she told him when Colin remained silent. “I thought he was a mugger.”
    â€œAh, my angel, he is much worse than that.” Vince turned to Colin with a grin but retained Cassidy’s hand. “He is a black Irish dog whose paintings I buy because I have nothing better to do with my money.”
    Colin lifted a brow as he moved to join them. “Vince, Cassidy St. John. Cass, Vincente Clemenza, the duke of Maracanti.”
    At the introduction Cassidy’s eyes grew wide. “Ah, now you have impressed her with my title.” Vince’s teeth flashed into a grin. “How accommodating of you.” With perfect charm he lifted both of Cassidy’s hands to his lips. “My pleasure,
sigñorina
. Will you marry me?”
    â€œI’ve always thought I’d make a spectacular duchess. Do I curtsy?” she asked, smiling at him over their joined hands. “I’m not certain I know how.”
    â€œVince normally requires that one kneel and kiss his ring.” At the comment, Cassidy let her eyes drift to Colin. His gaze was dark and brooding on her face. Fractionally, she lifted her chin. Though he said nothing, she sensed his acknowledgment of the gesture.
    â€œYou exaggerate, my friend.” Vince released Cassidy’s hands, then laid his own on Colin’s shoulder. “As never before, I envy you your gift.