‘You must have been rather a shock to them,’ Brice said ruefully.
In more ways than one. Suddenly being presented with a very young baby must have been shock enough, but how on earth had her aged parents coped with Sabina’s unmistakable beauty? She must have looked like an angel when she was a little girl.
‘Yes,’ she acknowledged wistfully. ‘It was a strange childhood,’ she admitted abruptly.
Probably a very lonely one too, Brice realised frowningly. Something he found difficult to contemplate. He had grown up in a young, fun-loving family, and when he hadn’t been with his parents he had been in Scotland, with his grandfather, and his two cousins, Logan and Fergus. He had never particularly thought about it before, but his own childhood couldn’t have been more perfect.
‘Which one of your parents do you take after?’ he probed interestedly, going carefully so as not to break the spell; he had a feeling that Sabina rarely spoke of her parents and her childhood, and that to draw her attention to it now would only result in her clamming up again.
Sabina gave the ghost of a smile. ‘My father.’ That smile faded almost as soon as it appeared. ‘He died five years ago,’ she added flatly.
And her mother had lived in Scotland since that time.
‘I’m sorry.’ And he was. Even from the little she had said, it was obvious Sabina had been much closer to her father than her mother.
And perhaps that closeness to her father, and his death five years ago, explained the reason for her engagement now to a man so much her senior?
Sabina shrugged. ‘He had been ill with cancer for some time; it was a welcome release for him.’ She spoke unemotionally. ‘But I’ve always regretted that he wasn’t there to see me get my own degree in history. Oh, yes, Brice—’ she smiled at his obviously surprised expression ‘—I went to university. I haven’t always been a full-time model,’ she added derisively, for his derogatory remarks about her chosen career the previous week.
And her derision was well deserved, Brice acknowledged inwardly. He had been scathing and rude about her career, without really knowing anything about this woman; no wonder she looked on him as an inconvenient intrusion!
Sabina’s humour faded, her expression becoming noncommittal once again. ‘My mother—obviously—is a great believer in further education for women, believes women should have as many choices in life as they can possibly achieve.’ Her mouth twisted ruefully. ‘I don’t think she’s too impressed with the fact that, for the moment, I’ve chosen modelling.’
‘But it is obviously by choice.’ Brice shrugged, frowning suddenly. ‘And if your mother is so conventional in her outlook, what does she make of your living here with Richard so openly?’
He hadn’t even finished saying the words before knowing he had just made a terrible mistake. And the truth of the matter was, he wasn’t interested in how Sabina’s mother felt about her living arrangements; he wanted to know the answer to this particular question himself.
Because he found the idea of Sabina sharing Richard Latham’s house, Richard Latham’s bed, completely unacceptable.
Sabina had stood up abruptly as soon as he’d asked the question, blue eyes blazing angrily across the room at him now. ‘You’re being extremely personal, Mr McAllister!’ she snapped, two bright spots of angry colour in her cheeks.
And her anger, Brice realised, wasn’t all directed towards him; she had also realised, having been drawn into an unguarded conversation about her parents, that she had actually left herself open to Brice’s overfamiliarity. And she was obviously furious with herself because of it.
Brice remained seated. ‘Talking of Richard…where is your fiancé today?’ he enquired mildly; he really had expected the other man to be here today. If only to keep an eye on one of his ‘priceless possessions’!
‘He’s in New York until tomorrow,’ Sabina bit out economically.
‘In that case—will you have dinner with me this evening?’ Brice heard himself asking.
And then kicked himself. What on earth did he think he was doing? Sabina was an engaged woman. More important, she had given no indication whatsoever that she was in the least interested in spending time in his company. In fact, the opposite seemed true!
Sabina looked as stunned by the invitation as Brice felt at having made it.
The angry colour had faded from her cheeks, leaving them pale as alabaster, her eyes dark and unfathomable as she stared at him uncomprehendingly. Almost as if she didn’t believe what she had just heard.
As if to taunt Brice for his audacity, the diamond ring Sabina wore on her left hand winked and shone in the sunlight shining in through the large bay windows. Richard Latham’s ring…
Brice held his hands up in apology. ‘It was just a thought. A bad one,’ he accepted dryly as she continued to stare at him. ‘But it was only a dinner invitation, Sabina,’ he continued angrily as she stood unmoving across the room. ‘Not an improper suggestion!’
She swallowed hard before drawing in a ragged breath. ‘I didn’t think—’ She broke off as a brief knock sounded on the door. ‘Come in,’ she invited huskily, obviously relieved at the housekeeper’s interruption as she turned to smile at the older woman.
Brice’s relief was of another kind—the housekeeper had probably just delayed him receiving a verbal slap in the face!
‘You asked me to bring the post straight in when it arrived, Miss Sabina.’ Mrs Clark held out the silver tray on which she carried at least half a dozen letters.
‘Thank you.’ Sabina’s second smile, as she took the letters, looked rather strained to Brice as he watched her from across the room.
As, indeed, it probably was! Damn it, what did he think he was doing, inviting Sabina out to dinner? She hadn’t liked him very much to start with; now she was going to think even less of him!
What on earth had prompted him to make such an invitation? Sabina had gone out of her way to show him she had no desire to be in his company, for any reason, so why put himself in this ridiculous position? Probably because of that complete aversion she made no effort to hide, he accepted ruefully.
Not that he expected every woman he met to fall at his feet; no matter what Sabina might think to the contrary, he really wasn’t that arrogant. But he didn’t usually have the effect of dislike at first sight, either!
He had had his share of relationships over the years, some of them very enjoyable, some of them not so much fun, but he could never before remember a woman taking an instant dislike to him in the way that Sabina had…
Contrarily, it had only succeeded in making him more interested in Sabina!
The housekeeper having left the room now, Brice stood up abruptly. ‘I think we may as well call it a day for now,’ he bit out harshly. ‘You obviously—’ He came to an abrupt halt, Sabina having turned sharply towards him as he spoke, dropping the letters from her hand onto the carpeted floor as a consequence.
Damn it, was he really that much of a monster to her after that stupid dinner invitation that just the sound of his voice now took her back into that ‘startled fawn’ mode? If so he—
‘What is it?’ he prompted sharply as Sabina rose slowly from picking up the dropped letters, her face not just white now but a ghastly grey. ‘Sabina…?’ He moved abruptly to her side, grasping the tops of her arms as his gaze quickly searched the haunting beauty of her face. She looked as if she was about to faint! ‘Here, sit down.’ He put her down in one of the armchairs before striding over to the tray of drinks on the side and pouring a large amount of brandy into a glass.
‘No, thanks,’ Sabina refused huskily as she looked up and saw what he was doing. ‘I don’t think my mother will be too impressed if I turn up for lunch smelling of brandy!’ she attempted to tease.
Brice knew the remark for exactly what it was—an attempt to divert his attention from the fact that she looked so awful. It failed!
He frowned down at her, feeling in need himself now of the brandy in the glass he still held. ‘Is the idea of dinner with me really so repugnant to you…?’ He couldn’t believe his invitation had had this much of an effect on her.
‘Sorry?’ Sabina frowned up at him, obviously confused by the question.
Which led Brice to wonder if it had been his invitation that had brought about this transformation in her.
But if it wasn’t his invitation that had caused her to look so ill so suddenly, what—? He looked down at the letters she had just picked up, most of them in her right hand, while her left hand tightly clutched an envelope of pale green. Gripped it so tightly, in fact, that the envelope was crushed in her fingers until the knuckles showed white…!
Brice looked down at her searchingly. She hadn’t had time to open any of the letters, and yet just the sight of that pale green envelope had been enough to drain her face of all colour!
‘Sabina—’
She stood up abruptly. ‘Of course the idea of dinner with you isn’t repugnant to me,’ she told him with forced lightness, while at the same time totally avoiding his gaze. ‘In fact, it sounds a wonderful idea,’ she accepted.