To Marry McAllister
Auteur
Carole Mortimer
Lezers
19,9K
Hoofdstukken
17
CHAPTER ONE
âMCALLISTER, isnât it?â
Brice tensed resentfully at this intrusion into his solitude. If one could be solitary in the midst of a party to celebrate a political victory!
Ordinary he wouldnât have been at this party, but the youngest daughter of the newest Member of Parliament had married his cousin, Fergus, six months ago, and so all the family had been invited to Paul Hamiltonâs house today to join in the celebrations at his re-election. It would have seemed churlish for Brice to have refused.
But he didnât particularly care for being addressed by just his surnameâit reminded him all too forcefully of his schooldays. Although it was the manâs tone of voice that irritated him the most: arrogance bordering on condescension!
He turned slowly, finding himself face to face with a man he knew he had never met before. Tall, blond hair silvered at the temples, probably aged in his mid-fifties, the hard handsomeness of the manâs face was totally in keeping with that arrogance Brice had already guessed at.
âBrice McAllister, yes,â he corrected the other man coolly.
âRichard Latham.â The other man thrust out his hand in greeting.
Richard Latham⊠Somehow Brice knew he recognised the name, if not the manâŠ
He shook the other manâs hand briefly, deliberately not continuing the conversation. Never the most sociable of men, Brice considered he had done his bit today towards family relations, was only waiting for a lull in the proceedings so that he could take his leave.
âYou have absolutely no idea who I am, do you?â The other man sounded amused at the idea rather than irritated.
Brice may not know who the other man was, but he did know what he wasâthe persistent type!
Latham, he had said his name was. The same surname as Paul Hamiltonâs other son-in-law, his own cousin Fergusâs brother-in-law, which meant he was probably some sort of relative of the Hamilton family. But somehow Brice had a feeling that wasnât what the other man meant.
He held back his sigh of impatience. It was almost seven oâclock now; he had been looking forward to being able to excuse himself shortly, on the pretext of having another appointment this evening. But now he would have to extricate himself from this unwanted conversation first.
âIâm afraid not,â he returned without apology; being accosted at a social gathering by a complete stranger wasnât altogether unknown to him, but it certainly wasnât something he enjoyed.
Although, he accepted, being an artist of some repute, that he had to show a certain social face. This man, with his unmistakable arrogance, just seemed to have set his teeth on edge from the start.
Richard Latham raised blond brows at the bluntness of the admission. âMy secretary has contacted you twice during the last month, concerning a portrait of my fiancĂ©e I would like to commission from you.â
He was that Richard Latham! Multimillionaire, jet-setting businessman, the other manâs business interests ranging worldwide, his personal relationships with some of the worldâs most beautiful women making newspaper headlines almost as much as his successful business ventures. Although Brice had no idea who the âfiancĂ©eâ he had just mentioned could be.
He shook his head. âAs I explained in my letter, in reply to your secretaryâs first enquiry, Iâm afraid I donât do portraits,â he drawled politely. And he hadnât felt the least inclination to explain that all over again in reply to the second letter he had received from this manâs secretary only a week later.
âNot true,â Richard Latham came back abruptly, blue eyes narrowed assessingly on Briceâs deliberately impassive expression. âIâve seen the rather magnificent one you did of Darcy McKenzie.â
Brice smiled slightly. âDarcy happens to be my cousin-in-law. She is married to my cousin Logan.â
âAnd?â Richard Latham rasped frowningly.
Brice shrugged. âIt was a one-off. A wedding gift.â
The other man gave an arrogant inclination of his head. âThis is a gift tooâto myself.â
And he was obviously a man, Brice acknowledged ruefully, who wasnât used to hearing the word noâfrom anyone!
Well, Brice couldnât help that, he simply did not paint portraits, had no inclination to paint a flattering likeness of the rich and the pampered, just so that they could hang it on one of the walls of their elegant homes and claim it was a âMcAllisterâ.
âI really am sorryââ he beganâonly to come to an abrupt halt as the room suddenly fell silent, all attention on the woman who now stood in the doorway.
Sabina.
Brice had seen photographs the last few years of the worldâs most famous modelâhe would have to have been blind not to have done. Hardly a day passed when she wasnât photographed appearing in some fashion show or other, at a party, or public event. But none of those photographs had prepared Brice for the sheer perfection of her beauty, the creaminess of her skin against the short, shimmering silver dress she wore, her legs extremely long and shapely, her eyes a luminous blue, long hair the colour of ripe wheat reaching almost to her slender waist.
She wore absolutely no jewellery, but then she didnât need to; it would merely be gilding the lily.
His attention returned to her eyes. Luminous, yes, with a black ring encircling the sky-blue of the iris. But there was something else there he picked up on as she looked about the room. A certain apprehension. Almost fear�
Then a shutter came down over those amazing blue eyes, the emotion masked almost as quickly as Briceâs trained eye had recognised it, her smile confident now as she looked across the room in his direction.
âExcuse me while I greet my fiancĂ©e,â Richard Latham murmured mockingly before leaving Briceâs side to stride forcefully across the room to kiss Sabina warmly on the cheek, his arm moving possessively about her slender shoulders even as she smiled at him.
Brice realised as he watched the two of them that he had been wrong about the jewellery; on the third finger of Sabinaâs left hand gleamed a huge heart-shaped diamond.
Sabina was the fiancée Richard Latham had referred to? The fiancée he wanted Brice to paint a portrait of�
The one woman in the world, now that he had seen her in the flesh, that Brice knew he simply had to paint!
Oh, not because of her beauty, spectacular though it might be. No, it was that quickly masked emotion that intrigued Brice, that momentary glimpse of fear and vulnerability, that made Sabina more than just a beautiful woman.
It was an emotion he wanted to explore, if only on canvasâŠ
Â
âSorry Iâm a little late.â Sabina smiled warmly at Richard. âIâm afraid Andrew was being extremely difficult over fittings today.â She grimaced as she lightly dismissed one of the top fashion designers of the day. Andrew might be at the top, but he had a volatile temper to go with it, which made him hell to work for.
âYouâre here now, thatâs all that matters,â Richard assured her lightly as he turned back into the room.
Sabinaâs tension left her. How nice it was to have someone in her life who was never difficult over the demands of her career. In fact, it was the opposite where Richard was concerned; her famous face as she stood at his side was all that he wanted from her.
And, thankfully, the conversation seemed to have resumed in the room again now. Even after seven years as a top model, Sabina didnât think she would ever get used to the way people stopped to stare at her wherever she went, had had to build up a veneer over the years to cover up the dismay she often felt at the effect her looks had on people.
The only place she seemed to get away from being recognised was when she went to one of her favourite hamburger restaurants. No one ever believed, with her willowy slenderness, that it could possibly be the model Sabina, dressed in denims and casual top, her hair hidden under a baseball cap, sitting there eating a hamburger with French fries! But, sceptical as some reporters were, claiming she lived on lettuce leaves and water to maintain her slender figure, she was actually one of those lucky people who could eat anything and never put on weight.
Although, she acknowledged a little sadly, she hadnât dared to make one of those impromptu visits to eat one of her favourite foods for some time now. Six months, in factâŠ
âI have someone I want you to meet, Sabina,â Richard told her smoothly now. âAnd someone I want to meet you,â he added with a certain amount of satisfaction.
Sabina looked at him enquiringly, but could read nothing from his expression as he guided her across the room to meet the man she had seen him talking to when sheâd arrived.
The other man was tall, even taller than Richardâs six feet two inches, probably aged in his mid-thirties, dressed casually in blue denims teamed with a white tee shirt and black jacket, with over-long dark hair, and a face of austere handsomeness. But it was the green eyes in that face that caught and held Sabinaâs attention, eyes of such perception they seemed to see right into the soul.
Sabina felt the return of her earlier apprehension run down the length of her spine; she didnât want anyone, least of all this austere stranger, looking into her soul!
âBrice, I would like you to meet my fiancĂ©e, Sabina. Sabina, this is Brice McAllister,â Richard introduced lightly.
But again, unless Sabina was mistaken, Richardâs voice contained that element of satisfaction as he made the introductions.
She knew Richard was proud of the way she looked, but at this moment he seemed more so than usual.
She looked curiously at the other man. Brice McAllister. Should she knowâ? The artist! Brice McAllister, she knew, was one of the most sought-after artists in the world today. But that still didnât explain Richardâs attitude towards the other manâŠ
âMr McAllister,â she greeted coolly.
âSabina.â He nodded abruptly. âDo you have a surname?â he added mockingly.
âSmith,â she supplied dryly. âBut not many people know that. My motherâs more exotic choice of a first name was an effort to make up for the lack of imagination in my surname.â And she, Sabina realised with a frown, was talking merely for the sake of it. And to a man who instinctively made her uneasy.
But she couldnât seem to help it when those deep green eyes were looking at her so intentlyâŠ
âYouâre Sabina. Itâs enough,â Richard put in with a certain amount of arrogance.
Did Richard sense it too, that deep intensity coming from that unblinking, emerald-green gaze?
Sabina felt that shiver once again down the length of her spine, moving slightly closer to Richard as she did so.
âI promise not to tell a soul,â Brice McAllister drawled playfully in answer to her earlier remark.
Although somehow it didnât sound playful coming from this man. Neither was the mention of the âsoulâ to Sabinaâwhen she was sure this man could see straight into hers!
What would he see? she wondered. Warmth and kindness, she hoped. Humour and laughter, too. Loyalty and honour. Apprehension and fearâ
No! She was careful to keep those emotions under lock and key. Although that wasnât so easy to achieve when she was alone. Which was why she very rarely allowed herself to be alone with her thoughts any moreâŠ
âYour fiancĂ©e and I were just discussing the possibility of my painting your portrait,â Brice McAllister bit out evenly.
Sabina gave a perplexed frown as she turned to look at Richard. He hadnât mentioned anything about having her portrait painted. And she already knew, from the little time she had spent in Brice McAllisterâs brooding company, that he was the last man she wanted to spend time with!
âIâm afraid Brice has just ruined my surprise.â Richard laughed dismissively, giving her shoulders a warm squeeze before turning to look challengingly at the younger man. âYouâve decided you would like to paint Sabinaâs portrait after all?â he drawled mockingly.
Sabina looked at Brice McAllister, too, gathering from Richardâs comment that the question of painting her portrait hadnât been as cut and dried as the artist had just implied it wasâŠ
If not, why had he changed his mind?
If he hadâŠ
Brice McAllister shrugged unconcernedly. âItâs a possibility,â he replied noncommittally. âI would need to do a few preliminary sketches before making any definite decision.â He grimaced. âBut I should warn you now, I donât do chocolate-box likenesses of people.â
The implication being that she had a chocolate-box beauty! Not exactly the most charming man she had ever met, Sabina acknowledged ruefully, although he was at least honest.
But maybe that was what he meant about not doing âchocolate-boxâ likenesses of people, Sabina realised with a faint stirring of unease; he liked to capture what was inside the person as well as a physical likeness. Maybe her instinct had been right after all and he really could see into her soulâŠ?
âA âwarts and allâ man,â Richard realised dryly. âWell, as you can clearly see, Sabina doesnât have a single blemish.â He looked at her proudly.
Sabina looked at Brice McAllister, only to look quickly away again as she saw the open derision in his expression at Richardâs obviously possessive praise. But the intensity of the artistâs attention on her didnât seem to allow him to see Richardâs possession for exactly what it was: simply pride in ownership of an object of beauty.
âI think you could be slightly biased, Richard,â she told him huskily. âAnd Iâm sure we must have taken up enough of Mr McAllisterâs time for one eveningâŠâ she added pointedly, wanting to get away from the intensity of that probing green gaze.
She didnât like Brice McAllister, she decided. Something about the way he looked at her made her feel uncomfortable. And the sooner she and Richard distanced themselves from him, the better she would like it.
âIf I could just have your address and telephone numberâŠâ Brice McAllister drawled questioningly. âPerhaps I can ring you, and we can sort out a time convenient to both of us for those sketches?â
Sabina swallowed hard, very reluctant for Brice McAllister to know any more about her than he already did.
âThatâs easy, theyâre the same as mine,â Richard informed Brice mockingly even as he took one of his personal cards from his wallet and handed it to the other man. âIf neither Sabina nor I are at home when you call, my housekeeper can always take a message,â he added lightly.
Sabina could feel the increased intensity of that dark green gaze now as Brice McAllister digested the knowledge of her living at Richardâs Mayfair home with him. His mouth had thinned disapprovingly, those green eyes cool as his gaze raked over her assessingly.
Sabina challengingly withstood the derision now obvious in Brice McAllisterâs expression as he looked at her, although she had no control over the heated colour that had entered her cheeks.
Damn him, who did he think he was to stand there and make judgements about her behaviour? She was twenty-five years old, for goodnessâ sake, quite old enough to make her own choices and decisions. Without being answerable to anyone but herself. And she was quite happy with her living arrangements, thank you!
If a little defensive�
Maybe. But Brice McAllister didnât know of the understanding she and Richard had come to when theyâd become engaged several months ago, could have no idea that engagement was only a front, that their engagement was based on liking, not love. A protective shield for her from the fear she had lived with the last six months, in exchange for that object of beautyâherself!âthat Richard wanted so badly in his life. And, strangely enough, she had realised over the last few months, that was all he wanted from herâŠ
No doubt to a third person their arrangement would seem odd in the extreme, but it suited them. And it was certainly none of this manâs business!
âIâll call you,â Brice McAllister drawled derisively, putting Richardâs card in the breast pocket of his jacket before giving a dismissive nod of his head. Leaving them, he strolled over to join a couple sitting in the corner of the room cooing over a very young baby.
âBriceâs cousin, Logan McKenzie, and his lovely wife Darcy,â Richard murmured softly at her side.
Sabina didnât care who the other couple were, or what relationship they had to the arrogant Brice McAllister; she was just glad to have him gone. She could breathe easily again now!
In truth, she hadnât even realised she had been holding her breath until heâd left them, and then she had been forced to take in a huge gulp of airâor expire!
One thing she did knowâshe had no intention of being at home if Brice McAllister should choose to telephone her.
And, in the meantime, she intended doing everything she could to persuade Richard into changing his mind about wanting Brice McAllister to paint herâŠ
