“I thought Annie bought the food,” Prentice said in a voice that was deeper, thus obviously not so happy.
Isabella opened her mouth to speak but Mikey, unfortunately, beat her to it.
“You didn’t buy that did you?”
Prentice’s eyes narrowed and Isabella wondered if Prentice would find it untoward if, in front of his children, she took off her pump and threw it at Mikey.
She figured he would.
Therefore, Isabella decided to ignore any of this was happening and focus on dinner.
And nothing but dinner.
Except maybe Sally.
And, of course, Jason.
“I’m going to get changed before I cook,” Isabella announced and turned to her friend. “Mikey, come with me to see the pretty guest suite that –”
“No, darling, I’m going to stay here. Unpack groceries. Examine Sally’s fabulous manicure. Tour this spectacular house.” He grinned at Isabella. “Take your time.”
Well, maybe she couldn’t ignore everything and focus on dinner because she sure as heck couldn’t leave Mikey alone with Prentice and his family.
“Really, Mikey, you need to see the guest suite. It’s lovely,” she pressed.
“Really, darling, I need a cocktail.” He turned to Prentice. “What do you have to drink around here?”
“Whisky,” Prentice replied shortly, having come to the edge of the counter that led to the great room and leaned a hip against it, arms crossed, face closed, now so, very (and obviously) not so happy.
Mikey stared at him and waited for his list of other alcoholic beverages on the premises that were available to be consumed to continue.
Prentice didn’t say another word.
“Whisky it is then,” Mikey muttered.
Prentice walked to the study.
Isabella made a split second decision and followed.
At the double doors, she grabbed one doorknob then reached for the other, leveled her eyes on Mikey and mouthed, “Stay and be good.”
She closed the doors and turned to Prentice.
His side was to her but his neck was twisted so he could face her. He still didn’t look happy.
She couldn’t stop herself from licking her lips. Prentice’s eyes dropped to her mouth.
She caught her breath, crossed her arms on her middle and hugged her elbows.
Then she launched in, “I’m sorry about Mikey. He can be a bit overwhelming.”
Without a word, Prentice turned toward a cabinet, opened it and pulled out two glasses and a very good bottle of whisky that was also mostly empty.
“He can be overprotective,” she went on as Prentice poured the whisky but he still didn’t speak.
Isabella continued, “And he doesn’t fancy Robert or Richard and I think he’s kind of bored at Fergus’s house, considering Annie spends most of her time with Dougal… when she’s not wedding planning, that is.”
Prentice put away the whisky but he did so silently.
Once he was done, he turned to face her.
“It’ll be okay eventually, he’ll calm down. You just can’t,” she hesitated. “listen to anything he says.” She paused again. “Or take him seriously.” She drew in breath before she finished, “At all.”
Prentice remained silent and simply regarded her.
“I’ll buy you more whisky,” she told him.
Prentice finally spoke. “I think you’ve bought enough, don’t you?”
Oh dear.
He wasn’t happy about the groceries.
But he wasn’t done.
His eyes swept her from top-to-toe and then they settled on her face, “Go get changed, Isabella. You’re in a family home in the wilds of Scotland, not about to step out with the glitterati.”
There it was again. The non-physical slap. She barely held back a flinch but she managed it.
“Of course,” she muttered, starting to turn to the door.
“It makes me wonder,” Prentice started conversationally, she turned back and saw his gaze was speculative.
“What makes you wonder?” she asked when he didn’t continue.
“This,” he replied nonsensically.
“What?”
“This desperate warning not to pay attention to your best friend. It makes me wonder what secrets you’re keeping.”
“I’m not keeping any secrets,” she replied softly and it wasn’t exactly a lie.
It was just that he lost the privilege to know her secrets twenty years ago when he walked out of Fergus’s living room and didn’t look back.
Prentice went on, “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll pay close attention to everything he says.”
As a matter of fact, she did mind.
Mikey could be considered certifiably insane on entire continents. No one knew what was going to come out of his mouth. That was why he was still single.
Furthermore, why would Prentice care?
“If you’ll open the doors, Isabella, I’d like to serve my guest his drink.”
With nothing else for it, she opened the doors and walked out beside Prentice.
“Thank God! My cocktail,” Mikey exclaimed.
Isabella gave him a look that would turn marble into sand but bounced off Mikey. She smiled weakly at Sally and Jason. She ignored Prentice completely. Then she turned on her spike-heeled pump and used everything she had to force herself to walk calmly down the hall and to the guest suite.
Once there, she dashed around like a crazed demon, yanking off her (very pretty, she thought, still, it was expensive but then practically everything she owned was expensive, she was rich, for God’s sake!) sapphire blue dress. She tugged off her matching sapphire blue suede pumps and pulled on a pair of jeans and a sage green, tunic style sweater. It had a boat neck and bell sleeves and was hand-knit from the finest wool by what could only be considered a craftsman. It was one of a kind and cost a mint.
It would have to do.
She snatched the bobby pins out of the complicated chignon she’d fashioned at her nape (she’d always been good with hair, it was one of her few true talents, even her father begrudgingly admitted that) and shook out her hair. Once she’d done that, she piled it up on her head in a messy knot and fastened it loosely with a ponytail holder.
She allowed herself a split second to look in the mirror to see if she was fit for spending the evening in “a family home in the wilds of Scotland”.
She decided she wasn’t but she took off out the door anyway.
When she hit the kitchen, Sally and Mikey were in it, Jason was seated at the counter and a quick glance showed that Prentice was on the phone in his study.