by Carole Mortimer - Bachelor Cousins 03 - To Marry McAllister
‘How thoughtful of you, Brice,’ she said dryly—sure that his actions had nothing to do with kindness. He seemed to spend most of his time embarrassing her in one way or another! ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me,’ she added lightly. ‘I really should change out of this gown.’ She moved away.
‘One other thing, Sabina…’ Brice called after her.
She stiffened, turning slowly. ‘Yes?’ she prompted warily.
His eyes glittered, with amusement, or something else, Sabina couldn’t tell. As she couldn’t tell too much from his bland tone when he finally spoke, either. ‘It’s a very old castle, centuries old, and while over the years my grandfather has had a lot of the modern conveniences discreetly installed—’
‘You mean it now has indoor plumbing?’ Sabina taunted. Blonde brows raised mockingly.
‘Amongst other things,’ Brice confirmed dryly. ‘But I was actually referring to the fact that my grandfather hasn’t had too much success solving the problem of creaking doors and floors,’ he concluded challengingly.
Creaking doors and floors—?
Sabina’s frowning brow cleared, her cheeks filled with angry colour now as she realised exactly what Brice was intimating; he was warning her that any nocturnal wanderings, by Richard or herself, would in all likelihood be heard by the people in bedrooms close by!
Her gazed was steely as she looked across at him. ‘I’m sure that Richard and I can manage to sleep alone for two nights,’ she snapped, an angry edge to her tone. ‘If that’s all…?’ she prompted coldly, not waiting for his reply before marching determinedly over to the cubicle and closing the door firmly behind her.
How dared he? How dared he!
Moral judgement on her lifestyle, indeed! Brice knew absolutely nothing about her ‘lifestyle’ when she lived in London.
Absolutely nothing!
Because if he did, he would already have known that she and Richard had never done anything else but occupy separate bedrooms…
CHAPTER TEN
BRICE wished, and not for the first time, that he had accepted Richard Latham’s offer to drive himself and Sabina up to Scotland independently of Brice. At the time it had seemed simpler to Brice if they all arrived together; for one thing Latham had no idea, once he reached Scotland, of how to actually get to the castle, and for another, Brice had used the excuse to spend as much time in Sabina’s company this weekend as possible. But spending time with Sabina in the company of her fiancé was not a pleasant experience.
Not for Brice, anyway. The other couple seemed to feel no such inhibitions, chatting away together quite happily in the back of Brice’s car. Almost as if Brice were superfluous. He might just as well have been the damned chauffeur!
‘I hope I’m not driving too fast for you?’ he rasped, glancing briefly in the driving mirror—only to find Sabina looking back at him with mockingly raised brows. Almost as if she were well aware of how disgruntled he felt. Minx!
‘Not at all,’ Richard Latham was the one to dismiss. ‘We were just saying we hadn’t realised how beautiful it is up here.’
‘Honeymoon country,’ Brice rasped.
‘The Prince and Princess of Wales certainly thought so,’ Richard Latham acknowledged dismissively.
‘But look what happened to their marriage,’ Brice couldn’t resist returning caustically.
Richard laughed softly. ‘I had the Caribbean more in mind for our honeymoon.’
He would, Brice acknowledged irritably, the thought of Sabina spending a honeymoon anywhere with the other man not exactly improving his mood.
Although another glance in the driving mirror lifted his spirits a little when he saw Sabina was looking at her fiancé with more than a little surprise, giving Brice the impression this was the first she had heard about a honeymoon, in the Caribbean or anywhere else.
In which case, Brice acknowledged slowly, that comment about their honeymoon must have been a direct barb aimed at him…
He straightened in his seat a little at the realisation. He had been wary when Latham had changed his plans and decided to come to Scotland with them, but this last exchange seemed to confirm his suspicion that Richard Latham was aware of Brice’s personal interest in Sabina…
Great! Now it seemed his every move this weekend, every word he spoke to Sabina, was going to be under scrutiny.
‘My grandfather’s estate,’ he rasped unwelcomingly as he turned the car into the long driveway that led up to the castle.
‘It’s beautiful,’ Sabina murmured wonderingly a few minutes later, having driven up through the huge herds of deer, the castle itself now in sight.
Brice had been used to staying at his grandfather’s castle all his life, knew it as his second home, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still appreciate the haunting beauty of the castle itself, with its mellow stonework, and huge romantic turrets reaching up into the cloudless sky.
‘I believe my fiancée fancies herself as a Lady of the Castle,’ Richard Latham drawled a few minutes later as they got out of the parked car, Sabina’s pleasure obvious by the look of wonder on her face as she looked around her.
Brice eyed the other man coldly. ‘I believe my grandfather is already spoken for,’ he returned icily before turning to smile at Sabina, her almost childlike pleasure in her surroundings giving him pleasure too.
‘Never mind, Sabina.’ Richard Latham put his arm about Sabina’s shoulders with light possession. ‘If you really want a castle, I can always buy you one.’
Almost as if he were indulging a child with a new bicycle, Brice acknowledged frowningly.
This was not going to be an easy weekend to get through, he realised heavily, when everything the other man said and did irritated him almost to the point of violence. How much more pleasant it would have been if he could have brought Sabina here on her own, sharing the unusual serenity of the family home with her, showing her round, walking the grounds with her, going down to the stream where the family fished for salmon.
‘This castle has been in my family for centuries,’ he told the other man scathingly.
‘Brice is right, Richard.’ Sabina spoke huskily. ‘This sort of beauty can only be inherited, not bought.’
Brice watched as the other man’s mouth tightened fractionally, his obviously having taken exception to the conversation. Or, at least, Sabina’s part of it…
‘I’m not so sure we inherited it originally,’ he told them lightly as he led the way up the stone steps to the huge oak front door. ‘I believe one of our ancestors claimed it for his own after being involved in a raid where the original owner was killed!’
‘The Scots have always loved a fight, haven’t they?’ Richard Latham said mildly.
Too mildly, as far as Brice was concerned, sure that there had been a double edge to the other man’s remark. Well, if the other man thought he was about to give him a fight over Sabina, he was wrong; Sabina was an independent woman of twenty-five, not a possession for two men to fight over as if she were the prize!
‘We have been known to dispose of the odd unwanted Sassenach,’ his grandfather was the one to dryly answer the other man as he stood silhouetted in the now open doorway, light streaming out welcomingly from inside the castle.
‘Grandfather!’ Brice smiled as he moved forward to give his eldest relative the customary hug.
‘So you’ve arrived at last, laddie,’ his grandfather rebuked as he stood back. ‘Although I might be persuaded into forgiving you for delaying dinner—’ his eyes gleamed admiringly as he turned his attention to Sabina ‘—if you will introduce me to this beautiful young lady,’ he added charmingly.
‘Sabina,’ she huskily introduced herself as she held out her hand, looking beautiful, as Brice’s grandfather had just said, in a fitted black dress, her hair gleaming pure gold as it flowed down over her shoulders to her waist. ‘And I’m afraid I’m the one you have to blame for our tardiness,’ she added with a grimace. ‘I had a little trouble deciding what I would need to pack f
or a weekend in Scotland.’
Brice’s grandfather had retained a hold on her hand, tucking it securely into the crook of his arm now as he turned to take her inside. ‘I’m sure you always look beautiful whatever you wear,’ he told her gallantly.
Brice shot Richard Latham a sideways glance, not altogether sure he liked the look of derision on the other man’s face as he watched Hugh walk away with his fiancée. ‘Help me carry the luggage in, Latham,’ he instructed harshly, opening up the boot of the car, at the same time sure that the other man wasn’t accustomed to carrying his own luggage.
A learning experience for him, then, Brice decided hardly. His grandfather employed several household staff, and the castle was run with extreme efficiency by all of them, but that didn’t mean Richard Latham could expect a free ride this weekend. No matter what he might be used to!
Brice came to a halt in the doorway of the sitting-room a few minutes later, after delivering the luggage to the bedrooms, as he heard Sabina laughing with his grandfather. It was a huskily girlish sound, completely uninhibited.
‘Sorry,’ Richard Latham rasped as, given no warning of Brice’s sudden stop, he walked straight into his back. ‘What’s the hold-up, McAllister?’ he prompted mockingly.
The ‘hold-up’ was the complete novelty, to Brice, of hearing Sabina laugh!
It was a wonderful sound, deep and natural, hinting at a slightly wicked sense of humour if allowed free rein. As it was now, Sabina’s cheeks flushed, her eyes bright, as she obviously enjoyed her conversation with Brice’s grandfather.
‘Well, don’t just dawdle in the doorway, laddie,’ his grandfather instructed lightly as he looked up and saw Brice standing there. ‘Make yourself useful and offer our guests a drink.’
Brice was used to his grandfather treating him as if he were still six years old, but he could see that Sabina was enjoying the novelty of it, that smile still lurking about her mouth and eyes as she looked across at him.
Brice felt some of the tension he had known on the journey here ease, suddenly feeling, as he saw how relaxed Sabina was with his grandfather, that it was going to be an okay weekend after all—with or without the presence of Richard Latham!
‘What would you like to drink, Sabina?’ Brice offered dryly as he moved to the array of drinks that stood on top of a glass cabinet. ‘It seems we have white or red wine.’ He scrutinised the bottles. ‘Gin. Vodka. Or there’s whisky, if you would prefer it.’
No doubt, being in Scotland, the men would be drinking whisky, Sabina acknowledged ruefully, opting for the white wine herself; she had never been particularly keen on strong spirits.
‘Isn’t this wonderful?’ she prompted Richard as he crossed the room to sit down next to her on the sofa.
‘Wonderful,’ he echoed, with a definite lack of enthusiasm—to Sabina, at least—in his voice.
She gave him a frowning look. Richard couldn’t possibly not like this place. It was the most beautiful home she had ever seen, the furniture obviously all antique, suits of armour, swords and helmets, adorning the mellow stone walls. She had even seen a cannon at the bottom of one of the staircases that obviously led up to the turret bedrooms.
Visions of Rapunzel, she had teased Brice last week when he’d made the suggestion of their coming here so he could paint her. But now that she was here Sabina could see exactly why he had found the idea so intriguing. The castle was enchanting, like something out of a fairy story!
‘It’s very remote here,’ Richard remarked as Brice handed him his requested glass of whisky. ‘And it must cost you a fortune in heating bills.’
Hugh McDonald’s eyes narrowed. ‘The remoteness means we aren’t bothered too much by nosy sightseers,’ he rasped pointedly. ‘And if you have to count the cost then you can’t afford to live here,’ he added dryly.
Richard’s practical remark had given the air a certain tension that hadn’t been there a couple of minutes ago, Sabina realised regretfully. She was sure Richard hadn’t intended any insult, but at the same time she was aware that one had been taken.
‘I thought we were to be five for dinner this evening, Grandfather?’ Brice remarked lightly as he sat in one of the chairs opposite.
Hugh gave him a steely look. ‘My guest will be arriving tomorrow,’ he answered abruptly.
‘I’m looking forward to it,’ Brice returned with relish.
Sabina looked at each of the two men, sensing something in the conversation that neither she nor Richard were aware of. But then, why should they be? Hugh and Brice had a relationship that had existed long before, and was completely separate from, this weekend.
‘Could I possibly go upstairs and freshen up before dinner?’ She turned to smile at Hugh as she put down her wineglass. ‘I feel a little dusty from travelling.’
‘You see, Brice, I’ve been telling you for years to get yourself a decent car,’ his grandfather taunted, the teasing obviously a regular thing between the two men; Brice’s black Mercedes was obviously a top-of-the-range model, the last word in luxury.
Brice shook his head, standing up. ‘I shall treat that remark with the contempt it so obviously deserves,’ he dismissed before turning to Sabina. ‘I’ll take you upstairs and show you your room,’ he told her huskily.
She should have realised that Brice would be the one to take her up to her bedroom, Sabina admonished herself as she stood up to follow him. She should have done. But she hadn’t.
She had promised herself before leaving London earlier today that she would make every effort to be alone with Brice as little as possible this weekend. And within minutes of their arrival she found herself exactly that!
‘Don’t be long, Sabina,’ Richard told her softly as she reached the doorway. ‘I’m sure we’ve delayed Mr McDonald’s dinner enough already this evening.’
‘Mr McDonald,’ Sabina mused as she followed Brice out into the hallway. Strange, she had found no difficulty in calling the elderly man Hugh from the moment he’d asked her to do so. Except…he hadn’t offered Richard the same intimacy.
Just an oversight, she decided. After all, she had been with Hugh the whole time the two men had been taking the luggage upstairs, whereas Richard had only just joined them.
‘Mind yourself on the narrowness of the stairs,’ Brice warned as she followed him up the stone steps.
It was a timely warning, Sabina having to hold onto the rope on the wall that acted as a banister several times as they negotiated the narrow winding of the staircase.
‘After London this is like a different world,’ she said almost dazedly, feeling as if she had been picked up and placed in a time warp.
Bruce turned at the top of the stairs to wait for her. ‘You’ll find the “indoor plumbing” perfectly satisfactory,’ he assured her dryly.
Sabina felt the colour in her cheeks as he reminded her of her mockery the day before. Trust Brice to throw that remark back at her! She decided not to qualify the remark with an answer.
Although she did make a mental note to be more careful in future what she did say to Brice. If she could be any more careful than she already was!
Sabina had never seen a circular bedroom before, the luxuriously furnished room Brice showed her into decorated in warm cream and golds.
But it was the narrow windows that intrigued her, and she hurried to each of them in turn to look out at the three-hundred-and-sixty-degree views still visible in the fading light of evening: a forest to one side, a lake to another, walled gardens to another, and the herds of deer grazing to the front of the castle.
‘If I lived somewhere like this I would never want to leave,’ she breathed wonderingly.
‘If you lived here, neither would I,’ Brice answered huskily from just behind her.
Far too close behind her, Sabina discovered as she swung round, finding herself almost pressed against his chest, becoming very still, her breathing shallow.
It was as if time were standing still as they looked at each other in the twilight, B
rice’s face vividly clear to her, his eyes a sparkling emerald-green, the intimacy of his words laying heavily between them.
She should stop this, break the spell—except that was exactly what it felt like, as if she were bewitched, by both Brice and her surroundings.
‘I had better rejoin the others,’ he finally murmured gruffly.
‘Yes,’ she confirmed. But she wasn’t altogether surprised when he made no effort to do so.
A nerve pulsed in his jaw as he continued to look at her, the very air between them seeming to crackle with an unspoken awareness.
‘You really should go down now,’ Sabina told him huskily.
He sighed. ‘Yes.’
But still he didn’t do so, neither moving away nor reaching out to touch her. Just standing there.
He drew in a ragged breath. ‘Sabina—’
‘Go, Brice,’ she cut in softly. ‘Please!’ she added firmly before he could say anything else.
His mouth tightened. ‘Yes.’ He nodded abruptly, stepping back. ‘I’ll see you downstairs in a few minutes,’ he added before finally leaving the bedroom.
Sabina didn’t move, couldn’t move, clasping her hands together in front of her to stop them shaking. What was happening to her?
No—not what was happening to her; what had already happened to her?
She was engaged to marry Richard, had so much to be grateful to him for, knew that she was safe with him. And yet she had just made a discovery that threatened to put all of that in jeopardy.
She had fallen in love with Brice McAllister!
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘FOR goodness’ sake relax, Sabina,’ Brice rasped impatiently as he looked at her over the top of the canvas he was working on. ‘I’ve already eaten this morning; I’m not about to gobble you up as an after-breakfast treat!’ he added disgustedly.
They had been working on the portrait barely half an hour, Sabina standing stiffly across the room from him, wearing the shimmering gold gown, turned slightly away as she looked wistfully out of the window. And not once during that thirty minutes had Sabina been what Brice would have described as relaxed.
