Tavish turned his head from his brother to slide his gaze over the gallery, watching Maddox introducing Laetitia to the sales assistants on the level below. “A woman like Laetitia?”
“Tavish Uilleam. Few women can surprise or intrigue me, and yet she does.”
Tavish’s face closed, and he scowled at Alistair.
“Don’t take this personally.” Alistair raised his index finger, stopping his brother from speaking. “Despite the fact that she’s gentle, sweet—innocent even—there is a mature, strong, resilient woman beneath her skin. But it’s not this—there’s something more to her.”
“Like what?”
“She doesn’t appear to regret having defied the art market and its traditions by hiding herself and avoiding critics, but it’s a pretense to hide something. She appears easy to read. And ninety percent of th
