To Marry Mcallister. Кэрол Мортимер

green eyes saw beyond the layers of social façade, past the protective barriers, straight into the soul, and deep into the real emotions that made a person exactly what they were, and what had made them that way. What had changed her from being happily sociable into a woman who now put up a protective barrier she was determined no one would penetrate?

      ‘Tea will be through in a moment,’ she announced lightly a few minutes later when she rejoined him in the sitting-room. ‘Richard tells me that you have painted a rather magnificent portrait of your cousin’s wife, Darcy McKenzie?’ she prompted politely as she sat down.

      He nodded abruptly. ‘So I’ve been told.’

      Sabina gave a bright, meaningless smile. ‘I think he’s hoping you will do as magnificent a one of me.’

      Brice McAllister looked across at her with narrowed eyes. ‘And what do you hope, Sabina?’ he drawled.

      He didn’t really need to ask her that. Sabina was sure he already knew exactly what she hoped—that he wouldn’t paint her at all, that he would just go away, and leave her with her barrier intact…

      ‘The same thing, of course,’ she returned smoothly, meeting that continuous probing gaze with a completely blank one of her own.

      ‘Of course,’ Brice finally echoed dryly. ‘I—’

      ‘Ah, tea.’ Sabina turned to smile at Mrs Clark as she came into the room, the tray she carried, as Sabina had instructed the housekeeper a few minutes ago, containing just the tea; she did not intend offering Brice McAllister cake as well and delaying his departure by even a few minutes!

      ‘No sugar for me, thanks,’ Brice McAllister murmured as the housekeeper left the room and Sabina sat forward to pour milk and tea into the cups.

      ‘Sweet enough already’ didn’t quite apply to this man, Sabina acknowledged wryly. Tough, determined, slightly arrogant, very insightful, but Brice McAllister was definitely not ‘sweet’!

      ‘You seem quite at home here,’ he drawled mockingly.

      Despite being caught slightly off guard by the abruptness of the statement, Sabina managed to continue to calmly pour her own tea into the cup. ‘Why shouldn’t I? It is my home,’ she returned coolly, once again sensing that disapproval of the fact that she lived here with Richard.

      Which was slightly old-fashioned coming from a man who was probably only aged in his mid-thirties. Or perhaps it was the age difference between herself and Richard that Brice McAllister disapproved of…?

      ‘So when are you free to sit for some sketches for me?’ he prompted suddenly.

      She shook her head regretfully as she sat back to drink her tea. ‘I have a very busy schedule for the next few months—’

      ‘I’m sure you must have an hour free somewhere,’ he challenged, his mouth twisted derisively.

      An hour, yes, possibly even the odd day here and there. But she didn’t wish to give any of that time to Brice McAllister.

      ‘Possibly,’ she dismissed. ‘But even I deserve some time off for rest and relaxation.’

      ‘Sitting in a chair while I sketch you is not exactly going to tire you,’ he returned dryly.

      No—but trying to keep that blank wall in her eyes for an hour or so, shutting his probing gaze out of her inner self, definitely would!

      She shrugged. ‘I’m afraid I don’t have my diary available at the moment, but as soon as I do I’ll check it over and give you a call,’ she added dismissively, having noted that his teacup was now empty.

      He raised dark brows, making no effort to stand up in preparation of leaving. ‘Tomorrow is Saturday—surely you aren’t busy all over the weekend too?’

      Sabina held in her frustrated anger with effort. This man wasn’t just determined, he was dogged!

      He was also, she was slowly coming to realise, all the more intent on doing those sketches because he sensed her own reluctance not to have him do them.

      She shook her head with feigned regret. ‘I’m afraid Richard and I are away this weekend,’ she was able to tell him with complete honesty. And some satisfaction, she admitted inwardly.

      At least, she was allowed to feel that way for a few very brief moments—because she then became aware of the sound of Richard’s car outside in the driveway!

      Usually she was more than pleased to see him, feeling safer when he was around, but today her heart sank at the realisation that he was home. Because Richard, she knew, despite gentle hints from her this last week that she really didn’t want her portrait painted, was very determined that it would be done. And he was equally determined that the artist of that portrait would be Brice McAllister.

      ‘Pity,’ Brice drawled, obviously not in the least convinced by her excuse.

      He also wasn’t yet aware that Richard had arrived home, and Sabina schooled her features into one of cool politeness so that Brice McAllister shouldn’t see how dismayed she felt at having the two men meet again. Something she had desperately been trying to avoid!

      Brice sighed. ‘I wonder—’

      ‘Sabina? Are you—?’ Richard had come straight into the sitting-room on entering the house, coming to an abrupt halt as he saw Sabina wasn’t alone, his gaze narrowing as he took in Brice McAllister’s presence in the room, the used cups on the low table clearly stating that he had been here for some time.

      ‘Richard!’ Sabina stood up immediately to cross the room to her fiancé’s side, linking her arm warmly with his as she smiled at him. ‘Mr McAllister called round for tea,’ she dismissed with a lightness she was far from feeling.

      Brice hadn’t exactly ‘called around for tea’, that had been merely incidental; he had really come here in order to corner her into making a definite appointment for those sketches!

      Sabina looked across at him now, wondering exactly what he was going to say to Richard about his reason for being here.

      Would he tell Richard of his five unacknowledged telephone calls this past week? Yes, she did know exactly how many times he had telephoned, had instructed the loyal Mrs Clark to repeatedly tell him she wasn’t at home!

      Would he now tell Richard of her evasive tactics?

      She gave an inward groan just at the thought of it, having no doubts that Richard would not be pleased that she had deliberately been avoiding Brice McAllister this last week. Richard would also, once they were alone, want to know the reason for it. She could hardly tell him that she had done it because she didn’t want Brice McAllister looking into her soul…!

      ‘I called round in person to apologise for not getting in touch with either of you this last week.’ Brice McAllister was speaking smoothly now. ‘I’ve been rather busy, I’m afraid. But that’s still no excuse for my tardiness.’ He grimaced.

      Sabina could only stare across at him disbelievingly. He had been rather busy…? His tardiness…? He was the one apologising…? When she had been the one who—

      ‘That’s quite all right,’ Richard accepted lightly, the tension relaxing from his body at the other man’s explanation. ‘Is everything sorted out now?’ He looked at the two of them enquiringly.

      Sabina looked at Brice for guidance on this one, still stunned by the way he had smoothed over the situation with a few brief—if totally inaccurate—words.

      Had they sorted everything out now?

      More to the point, why had Brice McAllister lied just now? Only she could benefit from such a misconception—and, as she was only too well aware, she had done nothing in their acquaintance so far to merit such gallantry. As Brice, up to that point, had done nothing to show he was capable of such an emotion!

      He looked at her enquiringly. ‘I believe