‘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 was 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.