Worth The Wait. Lori Foster
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They are my babies.’
‘You are hiding. From everything. From the past and the future. The duchess needs you. You know how long the nights can be after a death and we had each other. We had the three of us, you, me and Thessa. You are just like our pateras, our father.’ Melina crossed her arms.
‘That is an evil thing to say. I am surprised your tongue does not choke you for forcing those words past it.’
‘You are like Father. Of the three of us, you are the most like him,’ her sister continued, pacing the room. ‘Even Mana said so, just not where you could hear her.’
Bellona raised her voice. ‘I am not like him.’
‘When we angered him, he would go paint.’ Melina swaggered with her shoulders as she walked. ‘When he did not want to do something, he would paint.’ She stopped and mused. ‘Did you ever notice how paint brushes are shaped almost like little arrows?’
‘You’re wrong to speak so. I practise archery. I do not live for it.’
‘Even the way you stick out your chin. Just like him.’ She jutted out her jaw in an exaggerated pose.
‘You always say that when you have no better words to fight with.’
Melina returned her stance to normal. ‘I cannot believe my own sister has no kindness in her heart for a woman with no daughters or sisters.’
Bellona raised her chin. ‘I will tell the duke I will stay a short time with his mother. It will be better than listening to you. You are the one like Father, insisting on having your way.’
‘Only when I am right.’ She examined Bellona. ‘Please arrange your hair before you see the duke.’
‘Of course.’ Bellona patted both sides of her head, achieving nothing.
‘Much better.’ Melina paused. ‘I expected you to pull a strand loose.’
‘I thought of it.’ Bellona sighed. But the duke probably wouldn’t appreciate it.
Melina reached to Bellona and pushed her youngest sister’s hair up at the sides, moving the pins around. ‘There. Now you look as well as me.’
Bellona walked past her. ‘Now you see why I do not show my face in society.’
Melina’s chuckle followed Bellona from the room out into the hallway.
When Bellona reached the sitting room, the duke’s gaze swept over her. The rock stood, unyielding.
Even with a scowl on his face, she still wanted to look at him. The thought irritated her.
‘I will return to your house,’ she said curtly.
The flicker behind his eyes—the intake of breath. She would have imagined he’d just been hit, except his face softened much the same as Warrington’s did when her sister walked into the room. The duke inclined his head in acknowledgment. ‘It will mean a lot. To the duchess.’
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