Chapter Two #2
‘Love it. So many places to see, so many people to meet. Of course, it’s not always glamourous.
There’s a lot of waiting around on shoots, a lot of time in hair and make-up and living out of a suitcase and so on.
’ Elspeth was repeating all the things her twin had told her over the years but even to her own ears, it sounded inauthentic.
As if she was playing a part, which she was.
Would he see through it? He didn’t seem the type of man to be easily taken in.
He was too suave and sophisticated and street smart.
Never had she felt more out of her depth.
Like a teensy-weensy goldfish flung out of her tiny bowl into a vast ocean of whale sharks.
‘Can I get you something to drink? A cocktail? Champagne? G and T? Wine?’ Mack asked.
Unlike her twin, Elspeth rarely drank alcohol.
She had never really developed a taste for it because she so rarely socialised.
But she figured it would look odd if she didn’t have what her sister would normally have.
Besides, a little Dutch courage might come in handy right now. ‘Champagne would be lovely, thank you.’
Mack moved away to fetch a drink for her and Elspeth took a moment to try and calm her racing pulse.
She couldn’t stop following Mack with her gaze, drawn to him in a way she couldn’t explain.
He was so...so dynamic. So potently, breath-snatchingly attractive.
It was as if every other man she had ever met paled in comparison.
Not that she had met a lot of men in a dating sense.
After her last date when she was eighteen, she had ended up in hospital with anaphylactic shock.
Her mother had almost had a breakdown over it and Elspeth hadn’t dated since.
But that was why she had moved out of home a month ago, so she could live without her mother hovering and fussing over her as if she were still a child.
She wasn’t a child. She was a fully grown adult and could take care of herself.
And this weekend was a good chance to prove it, to herself if not her mother.
‘So you’ve finally met my big brother,’ a male voice said in an undertone from close behind her.
Elspeth turned and encountered Fraser MacDiarmid.
She recognised him from the photo Elodie had shown her.
He was good-looking but not in the same category as his older brother.
He was an inch or two shorter and carried a bit more weight around his middle.
His jaw wasn’t as strong, his gaze not as direct, his aura not as dynamic.
Fraser was bland and boring where his brother, Mack, was compelling and captivating.
‘Oh, hello...’ Elspeth was at a loss to know what else to say.
She couldn’t remember if her twin had met Fraser or not and mentally rewound her conversation and text messages with her.
Surely it was just the bride Elodie knew?
But there was a familiarity about Fraser’s manner towards her—the way he was standing so close, for instance—that suggested he considered her twin far more than a passing acquaintance.
Fraser gave her a smile that wasn’t really a smile. ‘I know what you’re up to, you know.’ His voice was still pitched low, as if he didn’t want others to overhear.
Elspeth straightened her shoulders and willed her knees not to tremble. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ At least that wasn’t a lie.
His smile became vicious, like a stray dog baring its teeth. A don’t-mess-with-me-I’m-dangerous-if-provoked warning. He leaned a little closer, his beer-scented breath wafting over her face. ‘You think you’re so clever wangling an invitation to my wedding just to watch me squirm.’
Why would he feel the need to squirm? What exactly had gone on between Fraser MacDiarmid and her twin?
A fling? An affair? Elodie hadn’t mentioned anything about a fling with the groom.
She had casually dated on and off in the seven years since jilting her fiancé, Lincoln Lancaster, but never for longer than a week or two.
She claimed she didn’t want to be tied down.
She insisted she wasn’t looking for Mr Right and the white picket fence and a pram parked in the hallway.
But something clearly had gone on between Fraser and Elodie. But what?
‘I was flattered to be invited to be one of Sabine’s bridesmaids,’ Elspeth said, desperately trying to stay as cool and collected as her twin would have done.
‘I bet you were.’ Fraser raked her with his gaze. ‘But if you so much as whisper one word of what happened between us that night in London, I’ll deny everything and make you look like the troublemaking fool you are.’
Her heart banged against her ribcage and a cold shiver scuttled down her back.
What had happened between them? As much as it shocked her to be threatened by a man who was clearly a bit of a bully, Elspeth stayed in her twin’s character with renewed vigour, even with a little more confidence.
After all, Fraser MacDiarmid clearly didn’t suspect she was a stand-in—he was treating her as if she were indeed her twin.
Someone with whom he had had some sort of encounter that he was now desperate to keep secret on the eve of his wedding.
Elspeth inched up her chin, her gaze pointed.
‘But will your fiancée believe you?’ She was proud of how sassy and defiant she sounded.
So like Elodie it was kind of spooky. Not that she could ever be as confident and in charge as her twin, more was the pity.
But it sure was rather thrilling to pretend.
But then she noticed Mack coming back with her glass of champagne, his intelligent gaze taking in the tense little tableau between her and his brother.
‘Ooh, lovely,’ Elspeth said, taking the glass off Mack with a smile bright enough to outshine the crystal chandeliers above.
‘My favourite. Cheers.’ She took a generous sip of the champagne and was pleasantly surprised to find she liked the taste.
But maybe that was because it was the best champagne money could buy.
No doubt Mack MacDiarmid would not serve cheap imported sparkling wine from the local off-licence at his brother’s wedding.
Or maybe it was because, right then, she needed all the help she could get to get through this ridiculous charade.
But was it so ridiculous?
The realisation drifted into her mind that, right now, a part of her was actually enjoying herself.
She was a little out of her comfort zone, sure, but no one so far had guessed she wasn’t Elodie, even Fraser, who apparently had had some sort of illicit tryst with her twin.
Go me, she thought. Who knew she could act so convincingly?
But—even more exciting—she was getting a buzz from being in the company of Mack MacDiarmid.
Every time he came within a metre of her, every cell in her body tingled with awareness.
‘Excuse me, I have to mingle with the other guests,’ Fraser said, and strode away with a deep frown carved between his eyes.
Mack looked down at her with an unreadable expression on his face. ‘Everything all right?’
Elspeth blinked up at him guilelessly. ‘Sure. I’m having a marvellous time. Just super. Everything is just wonderful.’
His gaze drifted to her mouth, lingered there for a pulse-racing moment. ‘Liar.’ His voice was deep and rumbly and it did strange things to the base of her spine, making it all tingly and loose.
Elspeth had to remind herself she was pretending to be her twin.
Elodie would not stand there with her heart pounding and her senses on high alert.
She would not be intimidated by the most handsome man she had ever met.
She would stand her ground and give as good as she got.
‘You don’t look like you’re having a wonderful time either. ’
‘What makes you say that?’
She gave her version of one of her twin’s classic insouciant one-shoulder shrugs. ‘All these people you don’t know or even particularly like traipsing all over your home all weekend, getting drunk and up to who knows what else.’
One side of his mouth tipped up in a cynical half-smile. ‘Is that your plan? To get drunk and get up to who knows what else?’
Elspeth took another sip of her champagne, deciding it was as addictive as verbal sparring with the Laird of Crannochbrae.
His eyes continued to hold hers in a challenging lock, his mouth still tilted in an enigmatic smile.
‘I don’t have a plan. I like to live moment to moment.
It’s way more fun.’ She beamed another smile at him.
‘You should try it some time, Mr Control Freak.’ She drained her glass and set it down on a nearby table.
Mr Control Freak? Eek. What had made her call him that?
It sounded as though she was actually flirting with him.
She had never flirted with anyone. She had missed out on the flirting gene. ..or so she’d thought.
His eyes went back to her mouth and she had to fight the impulse to lick her lips. What was it about this man that made her feel so reckless and excited? Was it the champagne going to her head? Or was it Mack MacDiarmid’s disturbingly attractive presence?