A shutter came down over the previous candidness of Sabina’s gaze. ‘I’m not the first public figure—and I’m sure I won’t be the last, either!—to receive threatening letters and phone calls from someone who doesn’t like what I do.’ She shrugged dismissively.
Bruce wasn’t so easily put off, knew from Joan that there had been more to it than that. ‘The man actually broke into your dressing-room at a show one evening and attacked you,’ he said huskily, feeling murderous himself at the thought of anyone trying to harm Sabina.
As he had when Joan had first told him what had happened to Sabina to put that fear into her eyes, to turn her into someone almost afraid of her own shadow, into someone that Joan barely recognised any more.
Brice had burned with anger after talking to Joan, had wanted to get hold of the man who had attacked her and— Most of all he had wanted to pick Sabina up, wrap her in the cloak of his protection, and make sure that nothing like that ever happened to her again.
Except Richard Latham had already done that…
He had also been filled with a need to hit the other man because he was the one being allowed to protect Sabina!
Sabina shrugged, still avoiding the directness of Brice’s gaze. ‘He agreed to be put under psychiatric care for his actions that night,’ she stated flatly. ‘Which is why it was never taken any further.’
It was also the reason that the incident had never become public knowledge. Oh, Brice could see why Sabina preferred it to be that way. He just couldn’t rid himself of the mental image of a female celebrity who had been shot dead in similar circumstances a couple of years ago.
‘Look, Brice.’ Sabina sat forward agitatedly. ‘That’s all over now, and—’
‘Is it?’ he rasped harshly. ‘What about the letters you’re still receiving?’
He was taking a risk on guessing she was still receiving those threatening letters, but one look at her stricken face and he knew that he had guessed correctly about that distinctive green envelope, the one that had arrived in the post and that she had reacted to so strangely that day he’d called to see her.
His mouth twisted angrily. ‘I don’t think the psychiatric care has been too successful—do you?’
The slenderness of her throat moved convulsively as she swallowed hard. She drew in a harsh breath. ‘Brice, I really would rather not discuss this.’ She shook her head agitatedly.
‘I can understand that,’ he acknowledged heavily. ‘But the man hasn’t stopped, has he? He’s obviously just biding his time until he has the chance to get to you again. He—’
‘Stop!’ Sabina cut in harshly. ‘Just stop this, Brice,’ she said shakily. ‘I— The letters have stopped. I haven’t received one for weeks now.’ She shook her head.
‘At a guess I would say you had received another one the day I called to see you and you were “ill” in bed,’ he guessed shrewdly.
Sabina’s gaze flickered briefly across his face before being averted once again. ‘You’re very astute, Brice,’ she told him huskily. ‘I— That was the last one I received.’
‘Four weeks ago.’ He nodded. ‘How often were you receiving them before that?’ His gaze was narrowed questioningly.
She swallowed again. ‘Every couple of weeks,’ she acknowledged huskily,
‘A little early to presume there will be no more, don’t you think?’ Brice rasped, the anger he felt towards this unknown man making him sound harsh.
Sabina opened her mouth to say something, and then obviously thought better of it, shrugging instead.
‘Sabina…?’ Brice looked at her questioningly. ‘What is it you aren’t telling me?’ he prompted slowly, more convinced by the moment that there was something.
She forced a bright smile to her lips. ‘Goodness, there must be lots of things I’m not telling you, Brice,’ she dismissed lightly. ‘We don’t know each other well enough to share confidences!’
Didn’t know—! Brice drew in a sharp breath. He knew this woman well enough to know he was in love with her, that he thought of nothing else but her, night and day—how much better did he need to know her?
‘Thanks!’ he snapped irritatedly.
‘You’re welcome.’ She gave him that mischievous grin again.
Brice gave her a reproving frown. ‘You’ve obviously been very busy the last three weeks.’ So busy that she had either been ‘out’ or ‘unavailable’ every time he’d telephoned her!
Again he sensed that sudden wariness in her. Not that old fear that he now knew the reason for, just wariness. Why?
‘I did tell you weeks ago that my schedule is very heavily booked for the next six months,’ she returned noncommittally.
‘So you did,’ he drawled. ‘I haven’t been exactly idle the last three weeks myself,’ he added dryly.
‘Oh?’ She gave him a look of polite interest.
A look Brice instantly resented. The last thing he wanted from Sabina was her politeness!
‘I’ve finished the portrait,’ he told her abruptly.
She blinked. ‘My portrait?’
He gave a mocking inclination of his head. ‘None other,’ he drawled.
A flush darkened her cheeks. ‘But—I—I didn’t finish sitting for it,’ she said agitatedly. ‘Besides, I—you— Richard told you he no longer wanted it,’ she concluded awkwardly.
Brice’s eyes narrowed angrily. ‘Do you think so little of my artistic talent that you believe I’m incapable of painting a subject without having them sit in front of me for hours at a time?’ he rasped.
‘No! But—’ She made a dismissive movement. ‘Why bother when you no longer have a—a client, to sell it to?’ She gave a perplexed frown. ‘I suppose that I could always—’
‘It isn’t for sale!’ Brice cut in harshly.
He had sat and finished Sabina’s portrait for his own sake, for the sake of his sanity, it had felt like at times. Painting her image on canvas had been his only way of feeling in the least close to her this last three weeks!
And, even if he did say so himself, it was a wonderful portrait; Sabina painted against the background of that room at his grandfather’s castle, a wistfully beautiful Sabina, surrounded by the mystery that was such a part of her.
There was no way that Brice would ever sell it. To anyone. In the circumstances, it was just as well that Latham had changed his mind about wanting it—Brice would have had a difficult time telling the other man that the portrait was not for sale!
Sabina shook her head. ‘I don’t understand.’
Brice’s mouth twisted sardonically. ‘Don’t you?’
‘No.’ She looked more puzzled than ever. ‘What are you going to do with it?’
‘I’m not sure…’ he answered slowly. ‘I may exhibit it.’ Although the thought of letting Sabina’s portrait out of his possession for a moment, even to a reputable gallery, told him that he probably wouldn’t do that, either. Perhaps he would just hang it in his bedroom—it was the closest he was ever going to get to having Sabina there!
‘Let me know if you decide to do that.’ Sabina nodded. ‘I would love to come along and see it.’
‘You can come to my home at any time and do that,’ Brice returned harshly.
Sabina gave a tight smile, shaking her head. ‘I think I’ll wait for the exhibition.’
He shrugged. ‘Please yourself,’ he bit out tautly.
The atmosphere between them had changed over the last few minutes, Brice realised frowningly, Sabina having lost most of that effervescence he had noticed in her earlier. And he wanted it back!
‘Sabina—’ He broke off abruptly, becoming very still as he watched her lift her coffee-cup to her lips, totally stunned as he realised there was something else that was different about Sabina this evening. Something he should have noticed earlier, but hadn’t.
Her left hand was bare of the huge diamond ring that, to Brice, had clearly represented Richard Latham’s possession of her!
Sabina looked at Brice enquiringly, realising as she did so that he was staring transfixed at her left hand. Her bare left hand.
There were several excuses she could have given him for her engagement ring not being there: she never wore it when she was modelling and had forgotten to put it back on after the show; it was at the jeweller’s being made smaller—she had lost half a stone in weight the last three weeks, much to the chagrin of the people she worked with, who had had to alter the clothes she modelled—or she could just say she had forgotten to put it on this evening. But none of those excuses would have been the truth…
‘Where’s your ring?’ Brice finally seemed to collect himself enough to ask.
Sabina made a show of looking down at her bare hands. What was Brice going to think if she told him she didn’t have the ring because she was no longer engaged? The truth, probably, you idiot, she instantly remonstrated with herself—that she and Richard were no longer together! And that Brice was the reason for that…?
She sat up straighter in her armchair, her gaze very direct as she looked across at Brice. ‘I have no idea what Richard has done with it since I gave it back to him,’ she told Brice evenly.