‘Are you joking?’
‘I’m deadly serious. Come over here.’ She led him over to the sofa and sat him down. ‘I’ve managed to build up the painting’s provenance from its creation to its recovery by the Allies in 1945.’ She sat next to him. ‘The painting was part of a collection owned by Count Eduard Vachlav of St Petersburg. A painting matching the description of The Cursed Man was claimed in 1946 by Helena Aleksandrov-Vachlav and passed down to her daughter, Lady Agata Wentworth, on her death in 1947.’
His eyebrows shot up. ‘Grandma Aggie?’
She nodded. ‘You have very interesting relatives, by the way.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I’m guessing you know this, but your grandmother is descended from Russian nobility.’ She reached across to pick up a folder lying on the coffee table. ‘It’s all in here if you’d like to check.’
He shook his head. ‘I believe you. And the painting checks out?’
‘Forensic tests confirmed what I’d hoped.’ She gestured to the painting. ‘Our gentleman priest here was painted using sixteenth-century materials. My former professor at The Courtauld Institute very kindly arranged a formal authentication appraisal with a group of experts. Everyone agrees it’s an original Albrico Spinelli.’
Olly stared at The Cursed Man. ‘I can’t believe I was about to destroy an eleven-million-pound painting.’
She laughed. ‘And who knows, its sister painting might turn out to be genuine, too. Without testing the materials, I couldn’t be certain, but the second painting recovered by the Allies matches the description of The Sacrificial Woman. There’s certainly enough evidence to build a case if anyone challenges its authenticity.’
He looked stunned. ‘So my parents went to all that bother to dupe the art world and they didn’t have to?’
She shrugged. ‘Maybe not. At least you can stop worrying about people finding out now.’
‘Not about the main painting, but my forged sketch is still out there.’
She considered this. ‘Do you know who bought the sketch?’
‘The same French buyer who purchased the main painting. He paid a few thousand quid for it.’
She smiled. ‘Then I wouldn’t worry. News that The Cursed Man is an authenticated Albrico Spinelli will only increase the value of The Sacrificial Woman. He’s not going to be worried about a few thousand pounds when he owns a painting worth millions. And besides, if the truth does come out then he’ll own an original Oliver Wentworth.’ She took his hand. ‘You have an amazing career ahead of you, Olly. Owning one of your early sketches will be a real asset. I’ve no doubt it’ll end up being worth a lot more than a few thousand pounds.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘You can relax, okay?’
He let out a laugh. ‘I’m still trying to get my head around all this.’
She reached over and kissed his cheek. ‘Congratulations. You’re a very rich man.’
‘We won’t have to sell Rubha Castle. Or the Windsor townhouse.’
She smiled. ‘Looks that way.’
‘My sisters won’t believe this. I’m not sure I believe it.’ He looked bewildered. ‘Thank you, Lexi.’
‘I didn’t do anything.’
‘Are you kidding me? You’re the reason all this happened.’
‘Technically, it was Louisa. She’s the one who sent me the painting by mistake.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘She’ll never let me hear the end of it.’
Lexi laughed. ‘And thank you for helping me to get my painting back. No one’s ever done something so nice for me before … or so crazy.’
He twisted his body nearer to hers. ‘I’m sorry I lied to you. Can you forgive me?’
‘I understand now why you did it. Can you forgive me?’
‘Already done.’ He stroked her hand.
She held his gaze. ‘In case you hadn’t realised, you’re an extraordinarily good painter.’
‘I believe you.’
She laughed. ‘That was easy.’
He leant forwards and kissed her left eye. ‘Like I said, I always know when you’re lying.’
A burst of warmth landed in her belly. ‘Which could prove tricky, seeing as we’re about to form a professional working partnership.’
He kissed her cheek. ‘Not to mention our very non-professional partnership.’ A wicked glint found its way into his eyes.
‘This is also true.’ She traced her hands over his chest. ‘It’s going to be quite hard to build a relationship if you’re living in Scotland.’
He kissed her other cheek. ‘I’ve been thinking about that. You know, Windsor is looking very enticing as a base.’
‘Really?’ Her arms went around his neck. ‘But regular trips to Scotland would be good, too. The Highlands are an amazing source of inspiration.’
‘Tell me about it.’ He looked pleased. ‘You like it up there?’
‘I do.’ When his expression turned soppy, she chanced her luck. ‘Perhaps I could come with you?’ She missed Rubha Castle with its imposing architecture and rugged landscape. She’d never get tired of visiting.
‘I’d love that … And I love you,’ he said, his mouth finding hers.
She sank into him, loving the sensation of his hands in her hair and the feeling of heat building within her. When they came up for air, she whispered, ‘I love you, too.’
‘I know you do.’ He looked at her with such tenderness her insides melted.
She laughed. ‘You know, all this lying has made me realise something.’
‘What’s that?’ He kissed her neck, trailing his fingers teasingly over her skin.
‘Sometimes in order to live an honest life, you have to do dishonest things.’
He laughed and kissed her again, sliding his hands up her top and making her crazy with his tongue. But then he pulled away, as if struck by an idea. ‘You know, that could be the new family motto.’
She laughed. ‘I like it. It’s a little twisted … like you.’
‘Like us,’ he said, yanking on the cushion behind, causing her to bounce back on the sofa as Sandi Sheldon sang, ‘You’re Gonna Make Me Love You’.
So she did.
Author’s Note
This story is set in the beautiful village of Shieldaig, in the Wester Ross area of the Highlands in Scotland. I’ve tried my best to be as accurate as I can about the area, but with one exception. I’ve ‘borrowed’ Eilean Donan castle, renamed it Rubha Castle, and relocated it forty miles north. I think it’s called ‘poetic licence’, but I do hope it doesn’t offend anyone!
I’ve also borrowed the grand auction room at Sotheby’s in London and rehoused it in their Edinburgh offices.
Acknowledgements
This book wouldn’t have been possible without carrying out extensive research. Firstly, I’d like to thank Gordon and Stella Murray for allowing us to stay at the beautiful Rubha Lodge in Shieldaig. I hope I’ve done the place justice, but any errors are mine and mine alone. I’d also like to thank Alan Kluckow from Alan Kluckow Fine Arts in Sunningdale for allowing me to quiz him about the art world and running a gallery. His paintings are all originals – I promise!
My family continues to support me in my writing endeavours and I’m hugely grateful. Mum and Dad eagerly await their proof copy and are always proud as punch when the book is published. Seeing their enjoyment never grows old. The rest of my extended family all read my books and encourage their friends to do so too. Thank you! I love you all.
The Avon team are an amazing support. Especially Molly Walker-Sharp, my lovely editor, and Elke Desanghere and Sabah Khan who enthusiastically come up with marketing ideas. Thanks also to my fab agent, Tina Betts at Andrew Mann, for her continued support, belief, and friendship. And all the bloggers, readers and reviewers for giving up their time to read my books and leave reviews on various sites. You’ll never know how much I appreciate it.
This book is dedicated to my gorgeous partner, Simon. A man mountain of a guy, with the biggest heart imaginable. I couldn�
��t do it without him, and I wouldn’t want to.
Lastly, a big thank you to my lovely friends Debbie and Robin Newell, who we holidayed with in Scotland. Getting stuck on the mountain road, breaking a contact lens, and being lumbered with a mint green Fiat 500 were all genuine things that happened to us! You couldn’t make it up, as they say – even though most of the time I do.
Thank you for reading Secret Things and Highland Flings. I do hope you enjoyed it. If you’d like to get in touch or follow my blog, please contact me via my website www.tracycorbettauthor.co.uk or via social media.
Twitter: @tracyacorbett
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About the Author
Tracy Corbett lives with her partner Simon in Surrey and works part-time for a local charity. Tracy has been writing for a number of years and has had a few short stories published in My Weekly magazine. As well as belonging to a local writing group, she enjoys amateur dramatics and can regularly be found dressing up in strange costumes and prancing about the stage pretending to be all manner of odd characters. Secret Things and Highland Flings is Tracy’s third novel.
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Secret Things and Highland Flings Page 28
