âIf I lived somewhere like this I would never want to leave,â she breathed wonderingly.
âIf you lived here, neither would I,â Brice answered huskily from just behind her. Far too close behind her, Sabina discovered as she swung around, finding herself almost pressed against his chest, becoming very still, her breathing shallow.
It was as if time was standing still as they looked at each other in the twilight, Briceâs face vividly clear to her, his eyes a sparkling emerald-green, the intimacy of his words lying heavily between them.
She should stop this, break the spellâexcept that was exactly what it felt like, as if she were bewitched, by both Brice and her surroundingsâ¦.
She didnât move, couldnât move, clasping her hands together in front of her to stop them shaking. What was happening to her?
Three cousins of Scottish descentâ¦theyâre male, millionaires and marriageable!
Meet Logan, Fergus and Brice, three tall, dark, handsome men about town. Theyâve made their millions in London, England, but their hearts belong to the heather-clad hills of their grandfather McDonaldâs Scottish estate. Logan, Fergus and Brice are all very intriguing characters. Logan likes his life exactly as it is, and is determined not to changeâeven for a womanâuntil scatty, emotional Darcy turns his neatly ordered world upside down! Fergus is clever, witty, laid-back and determined to view things in his own particular wayâ¦until the adorably petite Chloe begs him to change his mindâsheâs willing to pay any price to get him to agree! Finally, thereâs Brice. Tough, resolute and determined, heâs accountable to no oneâ¦until blue-eyed beauty Sabina makes him think again!
Logan, Fergus and Brice are about to give up their keenly-fought-for bachelor status for three wonderful womenâlaugh, cry and read all about their trials and tribulations in their pursuit of love.
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 manâ¦
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 fiancée I would like to commission from you.â