by Carole Mortimer - Bachelor Cousins 03 - To Marry McAllister
It had been two days since she’d left his home so abruptly, two long days when Brice had thought of little else. But he had deliberately left it a couple of days before arranging to meet with Richard Latham; for one, he wanted to give Sabina time to get over being angry with him, for two, he hadn’t wanted to look too eager!
Mostly, he admitted self-derisively, it was the latter.
All of his waking moments now, it seemed, were spent in thinking about Sabina, in remembering how she felt in his arms, the taste and feel of her lips against his.
He could never remember being this obsessed with a woman in his life before. A woman who was completely unattainable!
‘Fine,’ his grandfather answered him. ‘But do be sure to let me know what time you’re arriving,’ he added warningly.
‘I’ll try not to catch you at an embarrassing moment, Grandfather,’ he confirmed dryly, still unsure about how he felt about his grandfather having a ‘girlfriend’—although he very much doubted, taking into account his grandfather’s age, if that term actually applied in this case! Unless of course—
‘I hope you’re going to remember your manners, laddie,’ his grandfather came back darkly. ‘I won’t have you making any of your clever remarks to—my friend.’
‘I’ll be on my best behaviour, Grandfather,’ Brice promised frowningly; his grandfather must be serious about this woman if he felt this strongly about his family’s behaviour in front of her.
Brice wasn’t a hundred per cent certain how he felt about that. His grandparents had both been here for all of them when they’d been younger, his grandfather alone for the last few years; he simply couldn’t envisage seeing his grandfather with anyone else but his grandmother.
Although that was probably just selfishness on his part, Brice accepted; after all, his grandfather spent most of his time on his own, the rest of them having their own busy lives to lead, when, as his grandfather had pointed out, weeks would go by without any of them giving a thought to visiting him in Scotland.
‘You had better be,’ came his grandfather’s parting comment.
Brice sat in frowning contemplation for several minutes after the call had ended, only forcing himself to move when he realised he had less than an hour to change and drive over to Richard Latham’s house. And, after all, what business was it of his whether or not his grandfather had found someone to spend time with? He was over twenty-one—well over!—a widower, and so at liberty to do with his life exactly what he wanted to do with it.
Time to take note of his own advice to Sabina where her mother was concerned, Brice realised; be happy for his grandfather, not judgmental. After all, it was his grandfather’s life.
Brice’s disappointment was acute when he was shown into Richard Latham’s lounge an hour later and found the other man alone there. No doubt Sabina was working again, Brice acknowledged ruefully. Pity.
Richard Latham was dressed formally in a dark grey suit and white shirt, with a discreetly patterned tie of grey and red, blond hair styled short, only a distinctive sprinkling of grey at his temples.
No doubt the latter added to the other man’s attractiveness, Brice acknowledged.
And Richard Latham was a handsome man, he accepted disinterestedly, ruggedly attractive, eyes of deep blue, his tall build still lithely fit despite his fifty-odd years.
But as he looked at Richard, Brice realised he disliked the other man intensely!
On first acquaintance Brice had been deeply irritated by the other man’s arrogance, but, looking at him now, Brice realised his dislike came from a different direction entirely. This man lived with Sabina, spent every day with her—every night! Most of all it was those nights that Brice hated even the thought of, he acknowledged with an inward shudder!
‘Sit down,’ Richard invited abruptly. ‘Can I offer you a drink of some kind?’ he offered coolly once Brice had done so. ‘Tea? Coffee? Or would you prefer something stronger?’ he drawled.
‘No, thanks,’ Brice refused as coolly, knowing he wouldn’t be staying long enough to drink anything. Just being in the same room as this man set his teeth on edge!
The other man looked at him with narrowed blue eyes. ‘In that case, what can I do for you?’
Brice’s mouth twisted wryly. ‘I thought I was the one who was going to do something for you? Paint Sabina’s portrait,’ he added harshly as the other man continued to look at him with cold enquiry.
‘Ah, yes.’ Richard nodded slowly, as if just remembering the fact. ‘What are your thoughts on that now?’
His antagonism growing by the second, Brice thought he had better just state his case and leave—as quickly as possible!
‘I’ll do it,’ he stated flatly. ‘But not here. In Scotland. I—’
‘You asked me to let you know when Miss Sabina was awake, Mr Latham.’ The housekeeper had entered the room after knocking.
‘Thank you, Mrs Clark.’ Her employer nodded. ‘Tell her I’ll be up to see her in a few minutes,’ he added dismissively.
‘Is Sabina ill?’ Brice asked worriedly once the two men were alone. It was two o’clock in the afternoon, for goodness’ sake! Much as he didn’t want Sabina to be ill, the alternative was totally unacceptable!
Something flickered briefly in the other man’s eyes at Brice’s obvious concern—irritation? Resentment? Displeasure? It was gone too quickly for Brice to tell.
Although there was no doubting that the smile Richard Latham now gave didn’t quite reach the icy depths of those pale blue eyes. ‘It’s nothing,’ he dismissed airily. ‘Sabina is—delicate. A little nervy, shall we say?’ he drawled softly. ‘The slightest—disturbance can be quite debilitating for her, poor love.’
The other man seemed to be choosing his words carefully, and yet at the same time Brice felt Richard was also being quite deliberate. And he didn’t agree with the other man that Sabina was delicate, or nervy; she seemed a little tense at times, and he wished she smiled more, but other than that she appeared to him to be a woman quite capable of dealing with anything life chose to throw at her. After all, he had been thrown at her—and she had no problem dealing with him!
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Brice answered noncommittally.
Richard Latham gave a slight inclination of his head. ‘Sabina has mentioned your idea of going to Scotland to me…’
Brice tensed. ‘And?’
The other man shrugged. ‘I see no reason why we shouldn’t accept your invitation.’
‘We’?
Safe in the knowledge the other man would be out of the country, Brice had made that dismissive remark to Sabina about it being a pity that Richard couldn’t join them, but it had only been made because Sabina had told him the other man would be in Australia; he hadn’t actually meant the invitation to include the other man. Now it looked as if he might have been taken at his word!
Brice sat tensely on the edge of his chair now; having Richard Latham with them in Scotland was the last thing he wanted! ‘Sabina led me to believe that you wouldn’t be able to make it?’
‘Did she?’ the other man returned mildly. ‘Change of plans,’ he dismissed with satisfaction. ‘We would both love to join you in Scotland for the weekend.’
So much for the initial impression the other man had given of not knowing the reason for Brice’s visit here today!
He gave the other man a narrow-eyed look, not fooled for a moment by Latham’s surface charm and refined manners; Richard Latham was every bit as dangerous as his nephew David had warned Brice he could be.
And Sabina was engaged to marry the man!
‘Brice has exquisite taste,’ Chloe murmured with satisfaction as she slightly adjusted the sash beneath Sabina’s breasts, before standing back to admire her work.
Brice was many things, Sabina would have agreed, but a man of taste would be far from the top of her list. Not that the strapless gold gown he had asked Chloe to design for her to wear for the painting of the portrait wasn’t absolutely beautiful, because it was; there w
as just so much more to Brice than the artist.
She had hardly been able to believe it when Richard had informed her that the two men had arranged for all three of them to go up to Scotland this weekend. She had thought, by telling Richard of Brice’s suggestion, that he would deal quickly and negatively with the matter; instead Richard had decided to delay his trip to Australia in order to go with her! And without making a scene out of the whole thing, Sabina had been cornered into going along with the plan.
Which was why she had this fitting with Chloe Fox on the day prior to their departure to Scotland!
She’d had the feeling, since first meeting Brice McAllister, of being swept along by the force of a tidal wave—and it wasn’t a feeling she found in the least comfortable!
‘Do say you like it,’ Chloe encouraged now.
It would be impossible not to compliment the other woman on the gown; the material, as Sabina had mockingly suggested to Brice days earlier, was diaphanous gold, her shoulders left completely bare, the material fitting snugly over her breasts, with that sash beneath emphasising the slenderness of her waist, the rest of the gown a floating gold haze down to her bare feet. Sabina was sure she had never worn anything so beautiful.
‘It’s lovely.’ She squeezed the other woman’s arm reassuringly.
‘Do you think Brice will like it?’ Chloe frowned worriedly.
Sabina bit back her tart retort about not caring whether Brice liked it or not, very aware of the fact that, as well as being a very successful fashion designer, Chloe was also married to Brice’s cousin, Fergus.
‘He’s going to love it,’ Brice remarked huskily from behind them.
Sabina swung sharply round at the sound of his voice, the colour first flooding and then as quickly receding from her cheeks at the open admiration in Brice’s gaze as he looked at her approvingly.
It was only the gown he was admiring and not her personally, she hastily admonished herself. She must try and remember that. The only problem with doing so was that every time she saw Brice things had a habit of becoming very personal indeed!
‘I’m so glad you like it,’ Chloe said with obvious relief.
‘It’s perfect,’ Brice reassured her as he stepped further into Chloe’s fitting-room, dressed in casual denims and a black fitted tee shirt, the latter showing his muscular arms and chest.
Such a startling contrast to how civilised he had looked in black evening clothes!
‘You’ve had your hair cut,’ Chloe realised as she looked at him appreciatively.
He had too, Sabina noticed, the over-long dark hair gone in favour of a much shorter style, almost Roman. Somehow it just succeeded in making him appear more ruggedly attractive than ever!
Brice didn’t look pleased at Chloe’s observation, putting up a self-conscious hand to the darkness of his hair. ‘I thought Bohemian was a little out of date,’ he drawled self-derisively.
Chloe laughed softly. ‘It suited you! I’ll just go and rustle us all up some coffee,’ she added lightly before leaving the room.
Sabina was very conscious of being left alone with Brice, not quite able to meet the searching gaze she sensed was turned in her direction.
‘I’m not quite sure I know how to take Chloe’s last remark,’ Brice finally murmured dryly.
Sabina didn’t believe that for a moment—he knew exactly how to take Chloe’s remark; Chloe obviously adored all of her husband’s family, would never insult any of them.
Besides, there was no getting away from the fact that Brice was a magnetically attractive man, no matter whether his hair was long or short.
‘I’ll just go and change back into my own clothes,’ Sabina told him huskily, still having trouble looking at him directly.
‘That gown is your “own clothes”,’ Brice assured her firmly. ‘It will go on Latham’s bill for the portrait,’ he added with amusement as she raised questioning brows.
‘Of course.’ She nodded abruptly. ‘Nevertheless…’ She moved towards the cubicle where she had changed earlier, her normal grace of movement seeming to have deserted her as she bumped into a chair on the way in an effort to avoid walking too close to the immovable Brice.
One of his hands snaked out as she passed, his fingers lightly encircling the top of her arm. ‘Are you feeling better now?’ he prompted huskily, his gaze searching on the paleness of her face.
‘Better…?’ She frowned, her brow clearing as she realised he was referring to the fact that she had been in bed when he’d called to see Richard the other day. ‘Just a slight tummy disorder,’ she excused dismissively.
Brice made no effort to release her, standing very close, the warmth of his breath stirring tendrils of hair at her temple. ‘Latham seemed to imply it was something else,’ he said slowly.
‘You must have misunderstood.’ She shook her head, her expression deliberately bland. She had actually received another disturbing letter the particular day Brice was referring to—but she had no intention of him ever knowing about that!
Those green eyes were narrowed as Brice continued to look down at her searchingly. ‘No, I don’t think so,’ he finally murmured softly.
Sabina shrugged dismissively, giving an overbright smile. ‘So we’re off to Scotland tomorrow,’ she deliberately changed the subject.
‘So we are,’ Brice confirmed dryly. ‘What’s wrong—doesn’t Latham trust you to be on your own with me in Scotland for two days?’ he added scornfully.
She gave him a derisive look. ‘I don’t think it’s me he doesn’t trust,’ she returned pointedly.
Brice grinned, a wolfish grin of pure devilment. ‘He could be right!’ he murmured with satisfaction.
Going on past behaviour, she was sure she was right! Although she also knew she couldn’t claim to be completely blameless those times she had been in Brice’s arms; somehow she just seemed to find herself there!
And Chloe, Sabina suddenly realised, was taking an awfully long time to prepare the coffee…
‘Have you telephoned your mother yet?’
Sabina looked up frowningly at the unexpectedness of Brice’s question. ‘My mother…?’
He gave an impatient sigh. ‘We’re going to Scotland. Your mother lives there. Or have you forgotten?’ he added hardly.
‘Of course I haven’t forgotten,’ she snapped, at the same time shaking off his restraining hand on her arm. ‘But my mother and Richard—’ She broke off with an annoyed sigh as she realised what she had been about to say. It was simply none of Brice McAllister’s business!
‘Your mother and Richard…’ Brice repeated thoughtfully. ‘Your mother doesn’t approve of your aged fiancé!’ he guessed triumphantly.
Sabina gave him an impatient grimace. ‘Richard isn’t “aged”,’ she defended irritably. ‘And there’s no law that says my mother has to approve of my choice of fiancé. Or, indeed, vice versa,’ she added coolly.
‘Latham doesn’t like your mother, either,’ Brice realised derisively. ‘Well, I can quite understand your mother’s feelings in the matter; after all, the man is only about ten years younger than she is! But I’ll reserve judgement as to whether or not he’s right about your mother,’ he added dryly.
‘You’ll “reserve judgement”—’ Sabina repeated incredulously. ‘Brice, you aren’t likely to meet my mother. Besides, none of this has anything to do with you,’ she snapped impatiently.
‘Nothing at all,’ he agreed, stepping back, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he did so. ‘Tell me,’ he mused softly, ‘does anyone like your fiancé? Apart from you, of course,’ he added scornfully.
She gasped incredulously. ‘Brice, you go too far—’
‘Not as far as I would like to go, believe me,’ he grated harshly.
Sabina did believe him. That was the trouble. Brice was a law unto himself. Heaven knew what this weekend was going to be like!
She had thought, when Richard had decided he would accompany her, that it would at least solve one problem for
her concerning this proposed trip to Scotland; Brice wouldn’t be able to just kiss her whenever he felt like it with her fiancé around. But with the unmistakable antagonism from Brice directed towards Richard, she wasn’t sure Richard’s presence wasn’t going to just make the weekend even more unbearable.
If that were possible!
The sooner this portrait was completed and she no longer had to see Brice, the better she would like it!
Where on earth was Chloe with that coffee? More to the point, perhaps, had the other woman known Brice would be calling in here today?
‘There is just one other thing about this weekend…’ Brice said slowly.
Sabina eyed him warily. ‘Yes?’
Brice shrugged. ‘My grandfather is in his eighties…’
Her tension increased. ‘Yes?’
‘This is no moral judgement on your lifestyle, I hope you understand?’ He grimaced.
No, Sabina didn’t understand—yet. But she had a definite feeling she was very shortly going to!
‘Go on,’ she invited huskily.
‘It’s quite simple, really,’ Brice continued lightly. ‘How you and Latham live when you’re in London is your business. But when in Rome—or, in this case, Scotland…’ He paused.
‘Brice, would you just get to the point?’ she snapped, having a feeling that Brice was enjoying this. Whatever ‘this’ was!
‘The point is, Sabina,’ he bit out succinctly, ‘that my grandfather, being elderly, also has some rather old-fashioned views. And the fact that you and Latham live together when you’re in London does not mean my grandfather is willing to accommodate that arrangement when you’re in his home! Consequently, you and Latham will be given separate bedrooms during your stay in Scotland,’ he concluded with satisfaction.
That was the point!
Sabina could feel the colour suffusing her cheeks, swallowing hard before speaking—she didn’t want her voice to come out less than assured. Even if she felt less than assured!
‘I’m sure that neither Richard nor I will have a problem with that,’ she told him coolly.
Brice’s expression darkened. ‘I don’t give a damn how Latham feels about it. It’s you I wanted to save from any embarrassment,’ he added grimly.
