Lucy Gordon – Save The Date!: The Rebel and the Heiress / Not Just a Convenient Marriage / Crown Prince, Pregnant Bride (страница 25)
‘That’s better.’
‘Better? What are you trying to do? Poison me!’
‘You’ve at least some colour in your cheeks again.’
She bit her lip. Dear Lord... ‘Have I gone pathetic again?’
‘There’s nothing pathetic about you, Princess. You’ve just had a nasty shock.’
She held her glass back out to him. ‘May I have another one of those? It was very...bracing.’
He took the glass with a laugh and handed her a soda instead.
‘I see we’re being sensible now,’ she grumbled.
‘If you want to get roaring drunk we’ll need to find you something better than cooking brandy.’
He had a point. Besides, she didn’t want to get roaring drunk. Not really. She hunched over her can of soda, twirling it around and around on the spot.
‘So...obviously my father ransacked the jewels before John hid the box.’
‘But why have a copy made? Why go to that bother?’
She stared at him. ‘That’s true. He didn’t go to the same trouble for the diamond necklace, did he?’
‘Unless John moved the box before he had a chance to.’
She turned the question over in her mind. ‘No,’ she finally said. ‘He wouldn’t go to that effort just for me. He’d simply laugh as if he’d bettered me, got one up on me. He’d tell me to suck it up.’
On the table Rick’s hand clenched. ‘I’m fairly certain I don’t like your father.’
Ditto.
She blew out a breath. ‘He must’ve pawned that ring while my grandmother was still alive. He’s not afraid of me, but he’d have been afraid of her retribution.’ She twirled her can around a few more times, running a finger through the condensation that formed around it. ‘Which means I’d better not pin my hopes on anything else in that box.’
‘Nell...’
She glanced up at the tone of his voice. She immediately straightened at the expression on his face. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘You’re aware that I had both the means and the opportunity to take something from that jewellery box and to have had a copy made.’
‘Oh, right, in all of your spare time in the what—one night it stayed there?’
‘I knew about it for two nights.’
She folded her arms. All the better to resist the urge to pitch her soda at him. ‘I’ve already told you more than once that I don’t believe you’re a thief. How many more times do I have to say it before you believe me?’ If her glare could blister paint, the wall behind him should be peeling by now. ‘Why are you so determined for me to think badly of you?’
He dragged a hand down his face and her chest cramped and started to ache. He didn’t want her to think badly of him, but he kept expecting her to because that was how people treated him. She didn’t blame him for this particular chip on his shoulder, but she wasn’t ‘people’.
He held up a hand to forestall her. ‘If a complaint were made, I’d be a major suspect.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, who’s going to make a complaint? I can assure you that I won’t.’ Though it’d serve her father right if she did and the scandal was splashed all over the papers. But it wouldn’t bring Grandma’s ring back. ‘And the only other interested party—my grandmother—is dead. I think you can rest easy on that head, don’t you?’
He sat back as if she’d punched the air out of him. ‘You really believe I’m not a thief.’
She pulled out her most supercilious shrug. ‘I refuse to repeat myself on that head ever again.’
He laughed. ‘You’re an extraordinary woman, you know that?’
‘Uh-huh, extraordinary and broke.’
He grinned, a sexy devil of a smile that made her heart lurch and her pulse beat like a crazy thing. She should look away, be sensible, but it seemed as if the fire from the brandy had seeped into her blood.
‘Would you like a cupcake?’ she offered.
‘I’d love one, but I better not. You’d read me the riot act if I told you how many of those things I’ve eaten today.’
‘With Candy breaking down, it’s not like I didn’t have plenty to spare,’ she mumbled.
His grin only widened.
‘Oh, okay!’ she snapped. ‘I’ll take the bait. How come are you so darn happy when my life is imploding around me?’
He leaned towards her. ‘Let me lend you the money, Nell.’
Her jaw dropped.
‘I have the funds. Doing your business plan, I’ve calculated how much you need.’ He named a sum. ‘I’ve more than enough in the kitty to cover it.’
Her jaw dropped lower.
‘And, believe me, if there’s one person who can make a success out of a crazy Victorian teahouse, then, Princess, that person is you.’
NELL STARED AT RICK. For a moment she didn’t know what to say. She moistened her lips. ‘I can’t let you risk your money like that.’
‘Taking risks is how I’ve made my money. As far as I’m concerned, this is the safest risk I’ve taken with it so far.’
Did he mean that? For some reason his certainty only brought her insecurities rushing to the surface. ‘You can’t know that! You can’t know that I’ll pull this off. It may all end in disaster and—’
‘I’ve yet to meet anyone who works as hard as you.’
His dark eyes fixed on her with an intensity that dried her mouth and sent her heart twirling and jumping with the kind of exuberance that made it impossible to catch her breath.
He rose, went to the sideboard and pulled the file containing all her clippings and notes from a drawer. ‘I stumbled across this last week. I wasn’t snooping. I was looking for string.’
She swallowed and pointed. ‘Next drawer along.’
‘I know that now.’
She stared at the folder and shrugged. ‘That’s just a whole bunch of pictures and ideas I’ve collected and...’ She trailed off.
He reached across the table and took her hand. ‘It’s a whole lot more than that.’
Okay, there were recipes and menus and table settings and names of businesses she might be able to use. There were colour schemes for Victorian houses, teapots, and anything else that had taken her fancy that she thought might prove inspirational for her own venture. She’d have to get a bigger folder soon because that one was bursting at the seams and she was adding to it all the time.
‘This helped me visualise your dream.’
His hand on hers was warm and it seemed to be melting her from the inside out.
‘Rick, I—’
‘It made me see your Victorian teahouse wasn’t some last-ditch plan to save your skin, but...’
She tried to pull her hand away, but his grip only tightened. ‘Nell?’
She couldn’t resist him. Not when he said her name like that. She lifted her gaze to his.
‘This is a dream of long standing. It’s something you’ve thought long and hard about. You have the drive and the work ethic to make a success of this business.’
His thumb stroked her wrist in lazy circles. She wanted to stretch and purr at his touch.
‘I’m cynical enough to know that’s not necessarily a recipe for success.’
‘Well, of course not,’ she said, because she had to say something and that slow circling of his thumb was addling her brain.
‘But you have an X factor.’