The Australian Heiress Read Free Page A

the color and texture of the skin, the luminosity of white sloping shoulders and the rather daring décolletage he had insisted upon for such a bravura painting. The hands, always a real test of a painter’s skill, were judged perfect, the tapering fingers adorned with a single ring—a diamond-wreathed aquamarine.
    It was an enchanting portrait of a young woman who’d obviously inherited Natalie Guilford’s legendary beauty. But the intervening years had added another dimension to Camille’s looks—strength and resolution—which were entirely her own. Whether she would continue to grow in character as the fabric of a privileged life was stripped from her remained to be seen. Many people felt deeply sympathetic toward her; and nobody wanted to be in her situation.
    The picture-taking session done, guests drifted over to Camille, complimenting her on the brilliance of the evening, the beauty of the house. Some of the women asked for the name of the decorator, only to be amazed to learn it was Camille herself; one woman even asked if she would be available for advice. That stepped up Camille’s short list of job possibilities should she ever lose her position with Comtek, one of the few companies within the Guilford Corporation to stay afloat.
    Halfway through a discussion with several guests, she began to have a sense of being watched. She couldalmost feel a gaze concentrated on her, somber and brooding. It wasn’t a fancy but an acute sensory perception, one so strong she lost the thread of the conversation. Fortunately another in the group took up the thread, freeing her to concentrate on the source of the current she felt.
    The signal was coming from somewhere near the marble columns along one side of the huge living room. She shifted position, touching a hand to the titian masses of her hair. The house was filled with light, heat and the magic of Mozart, the scent of expensive perfumes and the incomparable sweetness of fresh flowers. The brilliant crush of women’s dresses looked like fields of swaying tulips, and it was almost impossible to pick out individuals as the patterns changed….
    Be careful, Camille, she warned herself. Be very careful. There was no visible explanation for her apprehension, but danger was being relayed to her through her wired senses.
    Her green eyes opened wide as she focused on a man standing between two of the marble columns.
    Nick Lombard.
    In the instant it took to recognize him she felt the hot rush of blood to her head. For him to have come here! How dared he!
    Without apology she swung away from the group, so overwhelmed by outrage she was actually shaking. The past dreadful year moved dizzily before her eyes. Nick Lombard, more than anyone, had been responsible for bringing down the Guilford empire. It was Lombard with his accusations who’d set in motion investigations into Harry Guilford’s business dealings.After that, companies toppled like sand castles before the incoming tide. And as Harry Guilford went down in flames of scandal, Nick Lombard emerged as the new chairman of the Orion Group. A really big player, he’d been dubbed the Man of Steel by the press. His callousness in coming here was beyond belief.
    At this point in her progress, someone standing beside Lombard, utterly insignificant by comparison, began to wave to her.
    Claude? Camille checked in astonishment. It was Claude. He waved again, the gesture looking more like a show of a white flag than a greeting. Surely Claude hadn’t brought Nick Lombard! It didn’t seem possible. Yet Claude had been allowed a guest; Camille had just assumed it would be one of his many lady friends.
    “Camille, darling!” he called, then stepped forward as if to head her off. In so doing he almost collided with a drinks waiter who spun like Baryshnikov to avoid certain disaster. With a quick apology Claude turned to Camille, who now stood frozen.
    “Sweetheart!” Claude, considerably overweight, threw out amazingly delicate