Page 4 of The Unseen

A NNE W INSTON F INE A RT , IN P ERKINS R OWE , B ATON R OUGE, WAS filled to overflowing with art patrons attending the Friday-night gallery opening featuring prominent landscape artist, Nicole Belmond.

Lucas walked into the showroom beneath expertly angled track lighting that highlighted the intense colors of the unique Impressionist landscapes to their best advantage. Easels displayed more of the artist’s incredible work.

After running into Nicole at the center last Sunday, Lucas’s curiosity had been piqued. He’d gone on her web page and seen an array of her colorful paintings.

As he wandered the gallery, weaving his way through men in expensive suits and women in cocktail dresses, he realized the photos on the website hadn’t begun to do the paintings justice.

The vivid oranges, greens, reds, and golds in each piece gave the viewer more than just a look at the lush Louisiana countryside.

The paintings revealed the ageless strength and beauty of the land. The magnificence of moss-draped oaks along an empty lane, the mystery of weeping willows around a quiet pond, the unparalleled beauty of cypress trees against the backdrop of a sunset on the bayou.

Each piece drew him in, gave him an appreciation of the land that he too often took for granted.

“You look like you could use a drink.” A woman walked toward him, forties, blond, attractive in a slightly overstated way. “There’s a bar in the corner. What can I get you?”

He wasn’t a big drinker. Alcohol had caused him nothing but trouble as a kid. But occasionally after a long day at work, he enjoyed the relaxation of a drink. “Scotch, if you have it. Neat.”

She smiled. “Coming right up.” He watched her walk away, her sapphire dress showing off a slim figure and a nice pair of legs. She was only gone a few minutes. Returning, she pressed a heavy crystal rocks glass into his hand.

“Thanks.”

She smiled. “I’m Anne Winston. I’m the owner of the gallery.”

He nodded, not surprised. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Lucas Devereaux. I’m acquainted with the artist.”

Her gaze ran over him. “Well, isn’t she a lucky girl.” She glanced around the gallery. “Why don’t you wander a little, while I find her for you.” She left him in front of a haunting image of Belle Reve, the historic home where Nicole and Sean lived.

Though he had never been there, curiosity, and the way Sean talked about it, calling it “that spooky old place where my aunt lives,” had convinced him to go online to see what it looked like.

As spectacular as the old house was in photographs, nothing could compare to the portrait of timeless grace and elegance Nicole had painted of the mansion.

She appeared at his side, clearly surprised to find him there. “Lucas. I didn’t expect to see you. Thank you for coming. Sean never told me you liked art.”

“Not all of it. I’m not much on contemporary art—throwing buckets of paint at a canvas doesn’t do much for me. Your work, however, is incredible. I’m glad I came.”

Faint color rose in her cheeks. Lucas found it charming.

“I see you already have a drink. Would you like me to show you around?”

He nodded. “Very much.” His gaze followed her as she led him away. She was wearing a simple black cocktail dress, a gold choker and earrings, and very high heels. She had a terrific figure, which the dress elegantly displayed.

“I don’t see Sean,” Lucas said. “But I know he must be here. He was very excited about coming.”

“He’s over there with my aunt.” She tipped her head in that direction. “Sean is keeping her entertained while I work.”

His glance went past the boy to a slender woman with long jet-black hair. She was taller than Nicole, pale, and a little too thin. Nicole’s figure was fuller, more feminine, at least to Lucas.

With her thick auburn hair and big green eyes, Nicole was a very attractive woman.

He had noticed the first time he had met her, been reminded on the occasions he had run into her at the center.

Last Sunday, he had finally admitted to feeling the attraction, but still wasn’t sure he wanted to pursue it.

She smiled as she led him around the gallery, pausing briefly in front of one painting or another. A particular canvas caught his eye, a vibrant pink-and-gold setting sun reflected on a lake through a grove of cypress trees.

“Beautiful,” he said.

“Thank you.”

He turned and continued walking, but Nicole caught his arm, stopping him.

“I’m not sure I’m ready for you to see the paintings in the back of the gallery.”

“Why not?”

“The subject matter is new for me. I just … I felt like doing something different. I wasn’t going to show them, but Anne liked them. She convinced me it wouldn’t hurt my reputation if I painted something out of the ordinary.”

“I’d like to see them.” He smiled. “I promise I’ll keep an open mind.”

She smiled back at him, and he felt a jolt of heat, just as he had when he’d spoken to her in front of the center five days ago.

“Follow me.” She led him around a movable wall to the other side, where a series of five paintings were hung. Unlike the others, which had been done in vibrant colors, these were painted in grays, blacks, and browns, all of them dark and disturbing.

“Vicksburg,” he said, recognizing the image.

“Yes. I’ve painted the battlefield before, but this time was different.”

In the eerie gray light of dawn, the empty battlefield stretched across the canvas. A row of cannon, partially hidden by earthen battlements, stood in a rising mist, an echo of the past and a prediction of an uncertain future.

The others dealt with similar dark images, all painted in grays, browns, and blacks. The Shirley House looked down from its perch above the battlefield at the horror that had played out in front of it. There was a painting of headstones marching up a grassy knoll in the Vicksburg battle cemetery.

Lucas liked history. The Civil War was a subject he had read a great deal about. He understood, perhaps better than most, what the paintings represented.

He took a sip of scotch. “Not exactly cheerful, but definitely intriguing.”

Nicole’s expression dimmed. “I don’t really expect people to like them. I was just painting the emotions I felt as I looked at the battlefield.”

He waited until her gaze returned to his. “There’s a lot of feeling there. That’s what makes them interesting. What made you decide on that particular subject?”

“I don’t really know. As I said, I was looking for something new, something that would spark my interest. One day, I took a drive and ended up in Vicksburg.”

Anne Winston walked up just then. “I’m sorry to intrude, but Martin Kohler is interested in one of your paintings. He wants to meet the artist.”

“Of course,” Nicole said.

“And your friend Christian Villard is here.”

A hint of displeasure tightened her lips. She wiped it away and smiled as she turned to Lucas. “Thanks again for coming.”

“My pleasure,” he said, meaning it. He watched her walk away, watched as she approached the first man, tall, blond, and good-looking. Whatever he said had her shaking her head, her shoulders stiff as she abruptly turned away. Had to be Christian Villard. Clearly, she wasn’t a fan.

Nicole continued toward a man standing next to one of the easels. He was older, sandy-haired, ruddy-complexioned, with a friendly smile that Nicole returned. Martin Kohler, a potential buyer. Lucas hoped she made the sale.

As he finished his drink and set the glass down on a coaster on one of the tables, his glance caught on another painting of Belle Reve. Diva, it was titled.

A golden sun was rising, shining through a row of moss-draped oaks, illuminating the front of the old historic house and exposing its secrets.

In the early light, the tall white columns were faded and worn.

One of the shutters at the windows was broken and tilted at an angle.

It was a house that had withstood the ravages of time, and against all odds, it had endured.

Diva. Even in her fading beauty, she was a warrior, a fighter who could not be conquered.

The painting moved him. Lucas checked the price tag. It wasn’t cheap, but he could afford it. He spoke to Anne and asked her to reserve the painting. He would pick it up tomorrow.

“Good choice,” she said. “There’s something special about that one.”

He just nodded. As he wove his way through the well-dressed crowd to the door, his gaze went in search of Nicole.

The art buyer was gone, and Villard stood next to her. The way the man loomed over her set Lucas’s teeth on edge. He found himself walking toward her, putting himself between her and the other man.

“I think there was a painting you promised to show me.” His glance went from her to Villard and back. “Or are you too busy?”

She flashed him a smile of gratitude so wide, he felt a tug in his chest. “No, of course not. When I make a promise, I keep it.” She took his arm. “Sorry, I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse us,” she said to Villard as Lucas started leading her away.

Villard’s features darkened. “This conversation isn’t over,” he said.

Nicole’s hold tightened. “Actually, it is.”

When they reached the movable wall, Lucas led her around to the back, where the dark paintings were hung.

Nicole breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks for doing that. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with Christian tonight.”

“Your boyfriend?”

“God, no. I stupidly went out with him a couple of times, but it didn’t take long to figure out he was nothing more than a pretty face. I wasn’t interested then, and I’m not interested now.”

He thought of the dark look on Villard’s face. “You don’t think he’s a threat? I could stay, make sure you get home safely.”

She looked up at him and he caught a flash of interest in her pretty green eyes. She shook her head. “It’s very kind of you to offer, but the truth is, I don’t think Christian’s really a threat. His father is a very wealthy man, and the family reputation is important to both of them.”

“All right. In that case, I think I’ll say good night to Sean and then head on home.”

“Thank you, Lucas, for coming tonight and for playing Sir Galahad.”

His mouth edged up. With the life he’d led, he was as far from a white knight as a man could be. “No problem.”

Lucas made his way over to Sean, who introduced him to his aunt. Rachel Belmond was a very gracious lady, definitely Southern born and Southern bred.

Lucas left the gallery, heading outside to his silver Lexus coupe, his gift to himself as he thought of it. In a way, he was sorry Nicole hadn’t needed his help. He hadn’t felt such a strong attraction to a woman in years.

On the other hand, pursuing that attraction was a bad idea. It wasn’t good to mix work at the center with his personal life.

He caught a last glimpse of Nicole through the gallery window, saw her smiling at one of the customers, and his body tightened.

Since he had always made his own rules, he was going to find out if Nicole felt a similar attraction to him.