"Roberts, Nora - Irish Hearts 3 - Irish Rebel" - читать интересную книгу автора (Roberts Nora)

Even as he thought it, a man with a well-cut suit and pampered tan went to her. The way she offered her hand to him was just cool enough, just aloof enough to have Brian sneering-which was a great deal more comfortable than goggling.
Ah yes, indeed, she was royalty. And knew it.
The other family came in-that would be the twins, Brian thought, Sarah and Patrick. And a pretty pair they were, both tall and slim with roasted chestnut hair. The girl, Sarah-Brian knew she was just eighteen-was laughing, gesturing widely.
The whole family turned toward her, effectively-perhaps purposely-cutting out the man who'd come to pay homage to the princess. But he was a persistent sort, and reaching her, laid his hand on her shoulder. She glanced over, smiled, nodded.
Off to do her bidding, Brian mused as the man slipped away. A woman like that would be accustomed to flicking a man off, Brian imagined, or reining him in. And making him as grateful as the family hound for the most casual of pats.
Because the conclusion steadied him, Brian took another sip of his beer, set his glass aside. Now, he decided, was as good a time as any to approach the grand and glorious Grants.
"Then she whacked him across the back of his knees with her cane," Sarah continued. "And he fell face first into the verbena."
"If she was my grandmother," Patrick put in, "I'd move to Australia."
"Sure Will Cunningham usually deserves a whack. More than once I've been tempted to give him one myself." Adelia Grant glanced over, her laughing eyes meeting Brian's. "Well then, you've made it, haven't you?"
To Brian's surprise, she held out both hands to him, clasped his warmly and drew him into the family center. "It appears I have. It's a pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Grant."
"I hope your trip over was pleasant."
"Uneventful, which is just as good." As small talk wasn't one of his strengths, he turned to Travis, nodded. "Mr. Grant."
"Brian. I hoped you'd make it tonight. You've met Brendon."
"I did, yes. Did you lay any down on the colt I told you of?"
"On the nose. And since it was at five-to-one, I owe you a drink, at least. What can I get you?"
"I'll have a beer, thanks."
"What part of Ireland are you from?" This was from Sarah. She had her mother's eyes, Brian thought. Warm green, and curious.
"I'm from Kerry. You'd be Sarah, wouldn't you?"
"That's right." She beamed at him. "This is my brother Patrick, and my sister Keeley. Our Brady's already on campus, so we're one short tonight."
"Nice meeting you, Patrick." Deliberately he inclined his head in what was nearly a bow as he turned to Keeley. "Miss Grant."
She lifted one slim eyebrow, the gesture as deliberate as his own. "Mr. Donnelly. Oh, thank you, Chad." She accepted the glass of champagne, touched a hand briefly to the arm of the man who'd brought it to her. "Chad Stuart, Brian Donnelly, from Kerry. That's in Ireland," she added with an irony dry as dust.
"Oh. Are you one of Mrs. Grant's relatives?"
"I don't have that privilege, no. There are a few of us scattered through the country who are not, in fact, related."
Patrick snorted out a laugh and earned a warning look from his mother. "Well now, we're cluttering up the place as usual. We'll move this herd along to our table. I hope you'll join us, Brian."
"How about a dance, Keeley?" Chad asked, standing at her elbow in a proprietary manner.
"I'd love to," she said absently and stepped forward. "A little later."
"Have a care." Brian put a hand lightly on Keeley's elbow as they walked away. "Or you'll slip on the pieces of the heart you just broke."
She slid a glance over and up. "I'm very surefooted," she told him, then made a point of taking a seat between her two brothers.
Because he'd caught the scent of her-subtle sex, with an overlay of class-he made a point of sitting directly across from her. He sent her one quick grin, then settled in to be entertained by Sarah, who was already chattering to him about horses.
She didn't like the look of him, Keeley thought as she sipped her champagne. He was just a little too much of everything. His eyes were green, a sharper tone than her mother's. She imagined he could use them to slice his opponent in two with one glance. And she had a feeling he'd enjoy it. His hair was brown, but anything but a quiet shade, with all those gilded streaks rioting through it, and he wore it too long, so that it waved past his collar and around a face of planes and angles.
A sharp face, like his eyes, one with a faint shadow of a cleft in the chin and a well-defined mouth that struck her as being just a little too sensuous.
She thought he was built like a cowboy-long-legged and rangy, and looking entirely too rough-and-ready for his suit and tie.
She didn't care for the way he stared at her, either. Even when he wasn't looking at her it felt as if he were staring. And as if he'd read her thoughts, he shifted his eyes to hers again. His smile was slow, unmistakably insolent, and made her want to bare her teeth in a snarl.
Rather than give him the satisfaction, Keeley rose and walked unhurriedly to the ladies' lounge.
She hadn't gotten all the way through the door when Sarah bulleted in behind her. "God! Isn't he gorgeous?"
"Who?"
"Come on, Keel." Rolling her eyes, Sarah plopped down on one of the padded stools at the vanity counter and prepared to enjoy a chat. "Brian. I mean he is so hot. Did you see his eyes? Amazing. And that mouth-makes you just want to lap at it or something. Plus, he's got a terrific butt. I know because I made sure I walked behind him to check it out."
With a laugh, Keeley sat down beside her. "First, you're so predictable. Second, if Dad hears you talk that way, he'll shove the man on the first plane back to Ireland. And third, I didn't notice his butt, or anything else about him, particularly."
"Liar." Sarah propped her elbow on the counter as her sister took out a lipstick. "I saw you give him the Keeley Grant once-over."
Amused, Keeley passed the lipstick to Sarah. "Then let's say I didn't much like what I saw. The rough-edged and proud of it type just doesn't do it for me."
"It sure works for me. If I wasn't leaving for college next week, I'd-"
"But you are," Keeley interrupted, and part of her was torn at the upcoming separation. "Besides that, he's much too old for you."
"It never hurts to flirt."
"And you've made a career of it."
"That's just to balance your ice princess routine. 'Oh hello, Chad.' " Sarah put a distant look in her eye and gracefully lifted a hand.
Keeley's comment was short and rude and made Sarah giggle. "Dignity isn't a flaw," Keeley insisted, even as her own lips twitched. "You could use a little."
"You've got plenty for both of us." Sarah hopped up. "Now I'm going to go out and see if I can lure the Irish hunk onto the dance floor. I just bet he's got great moves."
"Oh, yeah," Keeley muttered when her sister swung out the door. "I bet he does."
Not, of course, that she was the least bit interested.
At the moment she wasn't particularly interested in men, period. She had her work, she had the farm, she had her family. The combination kept her busy, involved and happy. Socializing was fine, she mused. An interesting companion over dinner, great. An occasional date for the theater or a function, dandy.