A Scandalous Portrait (The Rose Room Rogues 1)

“Would you care for tea, my lord?”

My goodness, aren’t we being formal, she thought, and held back the giggle that was about to erupt from her throat.

“No, thank you, I have just broken my fast.”

Diana waved to the comfortable wing-backed blue and white striped chair across from where she sat. She hid her hands in her lap as they began to tremble. She knew by the look on his face that he had reached a decision about stealing the portrait. She briefly offered a prayer that he was willing to do it.

If he refused, she had no idea what she would do next.

“There is no point in dithering. The reason for my visit is to advise you that I have not come up with any other solution to your problem except for the one you have suggested. I need to steal the portrait from Mallory’s studio.”

Tears filled her eyes, and she released all the tension in her body. Her palms together in a prayer-like position, resting against her lips, she said, “Thank you, Hunt. You have no idea what that means to me.” Her voice trembled, and she dabbed at the corner of her eye.

“I cannot allow Mallory to take every pound from you, or in the alternative sell the portrait to whatever client he has that wants it. I will be honest with you and admit that, in my estimation, there is good reason to believe no client anxious to purchase the portrait actually exists, and he is only using that to push you.”

Diana nodded. “I have thought of that. But I cannot tak

e a chance.”

“No. Indeed you cannot.”

Diana cleared her throat, anxious to get this last request over with. “However, there is one thing I must ask you to do. Well, actually, not to do when you steal the portrait.”

“What’s that?”

She took a deep breath. “You must promise not to look at it.”

6

Hunt stared at her with a blank expression. “Excuse me?”

Diana stood and twisted her fingers. She knew her demand was ridiculous but the thought of Hunt looking at her naked—although from what she’d seen of the portrait, it didn’t look exactly like her with no clothes since Mr. Mallory had been skimpy on her breasts and hips—had her heart hammering in her chest to the point where she felt as though she would swoon.

“I don’t want you to look at it.”

“Sit down, Diana. You look like you’re about to faint.”

She sat, her entire body trembling. “I don’t faint.”

Hunt joined her on the settee and took her hand in his. “Sweetheart, I cannot steal the portrait without looking at it. How will I know which one to take? Or do you expect me to empty out the gallery in hopes that one of the pictures I steal is yours?”

She chewed her lip and gazed into his deep brown eyes. She’d been looking at those eyes since she was a child, mostly when she needed his help. Yet now they seemed to captivate her as never before. Were they always so soul-searching? Had they always made her feel so tingly inside? She felt as though he could look inside to her very heart.

She raised her chin, ignoring the blush that had risen to her face. “I don’t want you to see me. . .”

His full lips quirked in a slight smile, his eyes dancing with mirth. “Yes?”

Diana blew out a deep breath. “You know what I mean.”

His mouth broke into a full grin. “Perhaps I do, but to be absolutely sure as to what you are referring, just explain why you do not want me to look at a portrait that I am expected to steal?”

“Very well.” Despite her discomfort, she straightened her shoulders and stared into his eyes. “I do not want you to see me naked. There. I said it. Do you understand now?”

He stood and paced, looking back at her, his humor squelched. “So, let me understand this. You want me to go into a studio, under cover of darkness, and steal a portrait that I cannot look at?”

“You make it sound so silly. So impossible.”

He placed his hands on his hips and faced her. “It is silly and impossible, Diana. Think about what you’re saying. I cannot take a portrait without knowing it’s the right one.”