The Mistress Scandal

It was a smartly dressed pleasant-looking woman who came to the door. Alice assumed she was the housekeeper; the MacAllisters were the sort of people who had housekeepers, chauffeurs and probably food-tasters too, she decided grimly. She couldn’t be the only person who wished Gabriel was safely out of the picture—she instinctively knew he would make a formidable business adversary.

Before either she or the older woman had had a chance to speak, Gabriel was there.

‘Thanks, Mrs Croft, I’ll see to this. Come in, Alice …

Said the spider to the fly … she thought, obeying the command thinly disguised as an invitation. She’d only ever seen him in a formal suit—or nothing at all—before. It had been a bad idea to recall the ‘nothing at all’ part! Today he was wearing pale-coloured jeans, that emphasised his ultra-slim hips and endless legs, teamed with an open-necked black polo shirt.

Even when she stepped up from the lower step he still towered over her. Despite the fact she’d stepped out of the sun her body was abruptly bathed in an uncomfortable heat.

Gabriel had to be used to the stock female reaction of open-mouthed appreciation. He probably accepted such admiration as nothing more than his due, she thought sourly. Perhaps it was far too late not to be obvious, but Alice didn’t want to be classed with the adoring masses. She kept her own mouth firmly shut, even when her squirming insides were swallowed up by a deep dark hole.

His features were not nearly as classically perfect as his half brother’s, his nose might even be classed beaky by the envious, but he had a raw sex appeal that went clear off the scale. Alice’s eyes touched his wide sensual mouth and she gave a little shudder that had nothing whatever to do with disgust!

Alice was angered by her obvious display of weakness, but decided the best way to deal with it was to pretend it hadn’t happened. He probably hadn’t noticed; he wasn’t even looking at her.

‘Where is your sister?’

Horror swept over Alice. Reprehensibly, she’d forgotten about Sophie, who arrived at that moment dead on cue. She looked sweet, sexy and wholesome. Alice avoided looking at Gabriel’s face; she didn’t particularly want to see the boringly predictable male response this dynamite combination inevitably inspired in men. It was then that she noticed for the first time Sophie was looking from her to Gabriel and back again with a stunned expression.

‘Are you unwell?’ Gabriel had obviously noticed too.

Sophie tipped her head back to look up at the tall dark man. ‘I’m fine,’ she said hoarsely, licking her dry lips. ‘It’s crazy, but seeing you standing there with Alice, I thought … from a distance you looked so like Oliver.’

Just shut up … please … I should have foreseen this possibility, Alice thought, feeling the panic that had been her constant companion since her dark anonymous lover had acquired a name rise dangerously close to the surface.

‘Oliver?’ He looked distressingly alert.

‘Alice’s husband.’ Sophie stepped into the hallway, her soft hair a bright focus against sombre panelling and attractive dark William Morris wallpaper. ‘It felt like someone just walked over my grave,’ she confessed with a theatrical shudder.

‘And does seeing … Oliver always make you look so distressed?’

‘He’s dead,’ Sophie said, glancing apologetically towards Alice.

Gabriel’s dark eyes moved automatically to Alice. The light dusting of blusher along her high cheekbones stood out starkly against the pallor of her pale, blemishless skin.

‘It was only from a distance, when I was over by the car. Up close you’re nothing alike.’

‘I’m very sorry.’

If Sophie hadn’t been there she’d have told him where he could shove his insincerity. Alice inclined her head coldly in acknowledgement.

‘Is this bereavement recent?’

‘Nearly three years ago,’ Sophie said, when her sister continued to stare at Greg’s brother with a peculiarly intense animosity. She’d never seen Alice behave like this towards anyone before. Perhaps it hadn’t been such a good idea to bring her after all.

The housekeeper appeared and their host turned aside to speak to her. Sophie took the opportunity to hiss warningly at her sister.

‘There’s no point antagonising him. I’m not asking you to sleep with the man … Joke, Ally, don’t be such a prude,’ she said in an impatient undertone when her sister went bright scarlet. ‘But he is pretty delicious,’ she mused in an admiring undertone. Don’t you think? I hope you don’t mind I brought my sister. You’ve met, I believe,’ she added as the housekeeper moved away oozing quiet efficiency.

Gabriel MacAllister briefly took the hand she held out but seemed to lose interest almost immediately.

Considering she’d been expecting to be the subject of a microscopic examination herself, it struck Sophie as ironic that she was being virtually ignored. Perhaps he was lulling her into a false sense of security? A frown pleated her smooth young brow as she looked questioningly towards her sister.

Alice didn’t notice the look. Sophie thought it was entirely possible her sister had forgotten she was there at all. Then it came to her. Of course—she wasn’t the only one to see the similarity. Poor Alice, she thought compassionately, no wonder she can’t take her eyes off him. It didn’t explain why he couldn’t take his eyes off her, of course … Unless …?

A speculative light entered her blue eyes to be closely followed by a worried gleam. Alice needed a man, but not one like this! He was just too … just too much everything she decided, examining this spectacular specimen of manhood with a worried expression. According to Greg he didn’t lack female companionship. She’d have to think of a way to casually drop details of his ladykilling reputation into the conversation with Alice.

‘Greg’s waiting in the drawing room.’ Gabriel nodded his dark head towards a half-open door.

Sophie moved forward before turning back uncertainly when Gabriel made no attempt to follow her.

‘Aren’t you coming? I thought it was to be …’ she began betrayingly.

‘Thumbscrews …?’ Gabriel suggested with an expressive quirk of one dark brow. His wry grin broadened as the young girl blushed. ‘I see my reputation precedes me,’ he murmured drily. ‘We’ll join you later.’

Heart thudding sickeningly, Alice listened to the awful inevitability of that we. Gabriel MacAlllister was the last person in the world she wanted to be classed as we with. She tried hard to respond to Sophie’s nervous grin as she vanished.

‘Would you like to see the garden?’

Impersonal, polite … No need to panic; polite conversation she could deal with. Sophie hadn’t given away any vital information. He’d have been bound to learn she was a widow eventually if he stayed around the area.

‘I believe you have a fine collection of old English roses here,’ she responded stiltedly.

‘Have we?’ The offhand shrug of his broad shoulders displayed not a scrap of interest in horticultural heritage as he placed a light but insistent hand against her shoulder-blade. ‘I wouldn’t know. We do have very old English plumbing, though,’ he supplied helpfully. ‘It precedes the building by several centuries. I suspect it came over with William the Conqueror. Charming, if you like cold showers.’

It wasn’t a question of like, more need she concluded, tearing her eyes from his hawkishly perfect profile. The sweat not absorbed by her light cotton bra had pooled uncomfortably in the rounded hollow between her breasts. The tingling in her nipples made her acutely conscious of the area.

Alice gave a condescending sniff. When the going got tough, some people headed straight back to their air-conditioning and indoor pools—well, she could hope, couldn’t she?

‘Why did you lease the place, then, if it’s s … sub-standard?’

‘I didn’t … well, only on Greg’s behalf. There’s a dearth of rentable property around here, and I persuaded him purchasing might be a bit premature. He thinks becoming a householder will give him gravitas and convince your sister of his good intentions.’

‘She probably won’t be so impressed if she knows you’re paying the bill.’ Alice was gently panting as she reached a near trot. His long legs were making very few concessions to her less impressive limbs.

‘Oh, I don’t know. She struck me as a very sensible sort of girl.’ He came to such an abrupt stop she almost bumped into him.

Hands outstretched, anticipating a collision, Alice found her palms slapping up against his chest.

‘S … sorry,’ she stammered, after a telltale gap of total immobility.

A gap during which panic and something far more sinister had uncoiled hotly in the pit of her belly. His short-sleeved polo shirt was fine knitted cotton and she could almost feel the texture of the dark curling hair that lightly covered his broad chest.

Her tingling fingertips felt remarkably reluctant to relinquish the contact as she drew jerkily back.

‘Here’ll do, I think.’

‘Do for what?’