feel intimidated.
A charming charade, he thought. Was it for the benefit of his brother or for the congregation of people, who were now glancing over with interest in their direction?
Her outfit was certainly designed to impress the guests with her innocence. The pale dress was a testament to modesty. The neckline was rounded and buttoned to the top and although it did hug her top half the bottom swung in a swirl around her to her knees. And it was pink, the lightest of pinks, a colour associated with children. There she stood, hesitant and nervous and looking like the innocent he would have bet his bottom dollar she wasn’t. The white-blonde hair was tied back in a neat braid, leaving her smooth, vulnerable neck exposed. In fact, he thought, that was precisely what she looked. Vulnerable. He gritted his teeth together impatiently and headed towards them, altering his expression as he approached and going through the genuine motions of greeting his brother before turning to her.
‘My fiancée,’ Michael said, grinning, ‘Abby. Although I expect you have probably heard. News,’ he said, turning to Abby, ‘travels through this family at the speed of sound.’
Abby smiled and tried very hard to ignore the presence of the man standing next to Michael. He spoke a lot about his brother, Theo, whom he obviously admired, and in her head she had conjured up an image of someone not unlike Michael. Gentle, thoughtful, with the same teasing humour that had made her warm to him instantly.
She couldn’t have been further from the truth.
There was nothing gentle about this man, although he was chatting easily enough with them. Even in the looks department he had somehow managed to take the dark good looks that Michael possessed and push them to the outer limits. His black hair was longer than his brother’s, curling into the nape of his neck, and his eyes were like flint. Even his features were somehow harder and more ruthlessly defined. It all added up to a package that was intimidating, that sent little cold shivers of fear racing up and down her spine, although she had no idea why she should be afraid.
He was talking to her now, asking her something about the weather in Brighton, a perfectly harmless question, but when Abby looked at him she had the unnerving impression that something dark and threatening was stirring just below the surface.
She also found that her eyes were riveted to his face, which was compelling and scary at the same time.
She edged closer to Michael and knew that Theo had noticed that small shift in her stance, although his face remained impassively polite, his head tilted to one side with every semblance of hanging on to what she was going to say.
The man exuded power and menace. She heard herself stammering out some nonsense about winter by the coast, followed by another humdrum remark about the lovely weather here, how super it was to actually be able to stand outside in the evening. In the middle of her tortured reply Michael removed himself so that he could see his mother and fetch them both a drink, leaving her floundering in sudden, inexplicable panic.
‘You can’t be that warm,’ Theo drawled. He, too, shifted his stance, although it was to block her off from the guests behind him. In a minute he knew that his mother would descend upon them and he intended to let no part of his time be wasted. ‘You’re trembling.’
‘Oh, I’m just…a little nervous, I suppose.’ Abby looked away. ‘All these people…’
‘Surely you are not nervous of mixing with our family. They are a perfectly ordinary bunch.’ He didn’t smile when he said this. He just kept looking at her in that way that made her wonder what was going through his head. ‘Although I can understand that tackling Michael on his own might be a little different to dealing with…the rest of us.’
‘What do you mean by tackling?’ Abby asked sharply.
‘Why don’t you come and meet the rest of the clan?’ Theo placed a hand on her arm to usher her in the direction of the assorted guests and he felt her instinctive urge to pull away.
Not, he thought grimly, the sign of someone madly in love with his brother and with nothing to hide. With easy aplomb he directed her to his mother, taking time out to observe her reactions, and then he continued to watch her throughout the rest of the evening. His brother was as solicitous as he had expected and away from him she seemed to relax.
But then no one else was questioning her presence on the island and in his brother’s life.
Supper was served in the dining room, which had been built for entertaining. The table could seat twenty comfortably and Theo made sure that he nabbed a chair directly facing her, a position from which he could make his presence felt without being obvious about it. As was usual at these family affairs, the drink flowed and the conversation became more rowdy as the evening wore on. His grandfather, he was pleased to see, was in his element. Eighty, he exclaimed at one point during the evening, somewhere between the main course and the coffee, was just another two digit number!
By the time the liqueurs had arrived some of the guests had drifted off to bed, including his mother. The remainder were finding excuses to raise their glasses and toast anything and everything. When there was a lull in the raucous conversation, Theo banged his spoon on the table and waited until all heads had swivelled in his direction.
Abby, he noticed, was more cautious than expectant. Was she wondering what he was going to say? Her eyes were certainly watchful. And beautiful eyes she had too. Eyes designed to trap a man, or at least a man who had no great experience of the opposite sex. Brown, widely spaced eyes that he reckoned could turn sultry without too much difficulty. He raised his glass directly at her and drawled, ‘To the beautiful Abigail Clinton on her engagement to my brother!’ There was a roar of agreement and then he added softly, looking directly at her, ‘Speedy though that engagement might be…’
Abby met his eyes and shivered. In the subdued candlelight his dark, handsome face looked almost devilish, but she raised her glass anyway, tilting her chin defiantly at him.
‘Why waste time when two people know what they want?’ she returned recklessly. With everyone else chatting loudly the conversation had a whispered, electric undercurrent that made her feel as though they were talking somewhere very intimate and very much alone. She resisted the uneasy feeling inside her and shot him a wide, bland smile.
She had hoped to disconcert him but he simply raised his glass to her in a silent toast and gulped down a mouthful, staring at her over the rim of the glass until her nerves got the better of her and she broke the eye contact, desperately searching out Michael, who was oblivious to any undercurrents and was busily telling one of the uncles about his latest venture into night life. She had to cough very loudly to get his attention, but when she finally did she was mightily relieved to see him immediately and unsteadily get to his feet and loudly bid good night to everyone at the table. He held his hand out for her and she practically rushed to take it, making sure not to actually meet Theo’s darkly disturbing gaze as she hurried out of the room.
She only breathed a sigh of relief when they were in their bedroom and the door was firmly locked behind them.
‘So,’ Michael said, ‘what do you think of my family?’
‘Very…lively.’ She smiled back at him and went over to the dressing table where she began untying her long hair, running her fingers through the braid to separate the strands of flaxen blonde. ‘Your mother’s wonderful, so friendly. I’m not sure what I expected. Mothers can be a little possessive when it comes to their sons.’ Their eyes met in the mirror and he grinned at her.
‘Ah, but I am not the first born, thank Heavens. The heaviest
