‘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, Brice’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.
When in reality he should be the one who couldn’t relax—because when he sat back and glanced across at Sabina it was to see only her head and shoulders, alluringly bare shoulders that conjured up visions in his head of her completely naked.
‘I didn’t think you were,’ she answered him dryly now. ‘It’s just—I’m a little cold,’ she dismissed awkwardly.
A little cold! Brice would have described it as more than that. Since she’d rejoined the three men before going in to dinner the previous evening, Sabina’s whole attitude had bordered on the icy, and it had remained that way. Towards him, at least…
He shouldn’t have lingered last night having taken her to her bedroom, he acknowledged that; he just hadn’t been able to drag himself away. She had just looked so right in that setting, so absolutely perfect; and the realisation had very little to do with painting her in these surroundings!
One positive thing to have come out of her obvious coolness towards him: Richard Latham, basking in the warmth of Sabina’s attentions, had become quite convivial company as dinner had progressed, showing a relaxed, charming side of him that Brice, for one, would rather not have seen—it was probably the side of him that Sabina loved!
It certainly hadn’t succeeded in encouraging Brice to like Richard Latham any better, and he had seen his grandfather shooting the other man a couple of narrow-eyed glances of speculation during the evening too.
The fact that his grandfather didn’t seem to like the other man either had cheered him a little—perhaps his own dislike wasn’t so misplaced, after all? But only a little, Brice having wished the evening and night over so that he could once again be alone with Sabina.
But with Sabina still in this coolly remote mood, it wasn’t turning out to be much fun!
He stood up abruptly. ‘Your heart really isn’t in this, is it?’ he rasped impatiently. ‘Even for Latham’s sake,’ he added scornfully.
Sabina looked away. ‘If I could just have the window closed…?’
‘Why not?’ He strode across the room and slammed the window shut with barely repressed violence, drawing in a deeply controlling breath before turning back to her, realising that his tension was becoming as acute as her own. ‘What is it, Sabina?’ he prompted gently.
She took a step back. ‘I—you didn’t—explain, that the room you wanted to paint me in was your bedroom!’ she burst out accusingly, her cheeks bright red, whether with temper or embarrassment Brice wasn’t sure.
So that was it! This morning, at least…
Brice shrugged. ‘This isn’t just my bedroom when I’m here; it’s also my studio.’ Obviously, with all his canvases and paints about the room.
Although, he supposed—and he had never really thought about it before!—it must seem a little strange with his double bed in the room too… He had never thought of it—because he had never had a woman in his ‘studio’ here before. For any reason.
His mouth twisted derisively. ‘Latham wouldn’t like it, hmm?’ he scorned.
Sabina’s eyes flashed deeply blue. ‘I don’t like it,’ she corrected firmly.
‘Why don’t you?’ he taunted.
She moved sharply across the room to stare out the window that looked towards the lake. ‘It’s so peaceful here…’ she murmured almost to herself.
Brice looked across at her with narrowed eyes. ‘You haven’t answered my question,’ he rasped determinedly.
Sabina glanced back at him, the frown having eased from between her brows as she’d gazed outside. ‘Because I don’t believe it needs answering,’ she told him softly.
He drew in a sharp breath. ‘Sabina—’
‘Where has your grandfather taken Richard this morning?’ she prompted lightly.
To the top of a mountain and pushed him off, for all Brice cared! Although he didn’t for a moment think it was something his grandfather would do. Or that it was a reply Sabina would care for.
‘I believe they went for a drive round the estate,’ he dismissed uninterestedly. ‘Don’t worry, Sabina, I’m sure you’ll see your fiancé again soon,’ he added tauntingly.
She shook her head. ‘I’m not worried,’ she assured him dryly.
Not about that, anyway, Brice acknowledged frowningly. But she was troubled about something…
‘Sabina, if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, how can I help you?’ he said gently.
She gave him an incredulous glance. ‘I don’t remember saying there was anything wrong! Neither do I remember asking for your help!’ she added dismissively.
‘But you obviously need someone’s help,’ he bit out impatiently. ‘So why not mine?’
Sabina shook her head. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, Brice. And if I should have any worries,’ she continued firmly as he would have spoken, ‘I have a fiancé, and a mother, I can discuss them with, as necessary.’
And not with the relative stranger who happened to have taken the liberty of kissing her a couple of times, her words clearly implied!
He shrugged. ‘I had the distinct impression you don’t have that sort of relationship with your mother. Did you call her, by the way, to tell her you’re in Scotland for the weekend?’
Sabina’s mouth tightened impatiently at this sudden veer in the conversation. ‘You’re very persistent, Brice,’ she snapped.
‘Well?’ He raised dark, uncompromising brows.
‘No, I didn’t,’ she answered irritably.
‘Why the hell not?’ he rasped.
She shrugged. ‘Scotland is a big place—’
‘Where does your mother live?’ Brice snapped, his mouth twisting angrily as she named a village only five miles away. ‘Sabina—’
‘Will you just leave it, Brice?’ She moved impatiently, returning to her position across the room. ‘I thought we came here so you could paint,’ she added pointedly.
‘I could always try telephoning her myself; there can’t be too many Smiths in this area,’ Brice said dryly.
Sabina glared angrily. ‘You could always try minding your own business!’
He held up his hands defensively. ‘I’m only trying to help, Sabina.’
‘And I’ve just told you I don’t need your help,’ she returned with displeasure. ‘My relationship with my mother is my business, Brice, not yours,’ she rasped.
‘Or not. As the case may be…’ he said softly.
‘Oh, this is hopeless!’ Sabina threw up her hands in disgust before marching over to the door. ‘I need some fresh air,’ she bit out tersely. ‘We can resume this later,’ she added in a tone of voice that brooked no argument.