Say it with Diamonds...this Christmas: The Guardian's Forbidden Mistress / The Sicilian's Christmas Bride / Laying Down the Law. Sandra Marton
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much.’
‘Not till your twenty-fifth birthday, madam. I have no intention of letting you fall into the hands of some gold-digging gigolo at this late stage. I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if I did that.’
‘Huh. I can’t see you ever losing any sleep over me.’
‘Then you’d be dead wrong, sweetheart,’ he grated out.
Their eyes met, with Sarah sucking in sharply at the momentary fury she glimpsed in Nick’s face. It came home to her then just how much he’d hated being her guardian all these years. No doubt he would be very relieved when she turned twenty-five next year and his obligation to her father was over.
‘I haven’t given you that much trouble, have I?’ she said, her softer voice reflecting her drop in spirits.
As much as she accepted Nick would never be attracted to her, she’d always thought that, underneath everything, he liked her. Not just because she was her father’s daughter, but because of the person she was. When she was younger, he’d often told her what a great kid she was. He’d said she had character, and a good heart. He’d also said she was fun to be with, proving it by spending a lot of his spare time with her.
Of course, that had been a long time ago, before Nick had become a success in his own right. When that started to happen, he’d begun to ignore her. Then, after her father died, the rot had set in completely. It was patently obvious that she was now reduced to nothing more than a responsibility, a responsibility that he obviously found both tedious and exasperating.
‘Does he know how rich you’re shortly going to be?’ he demanded to know.
Sarah’s mouth thinned. Here we go again, she thought angrily.
Yet there was no point in lying. Better she answer Nick’s questions now than to have him put Derek through the third degree on Christmas Day.
‘He knows I’m going to be rich,’ she bit out. ‘But he doesn’t know the full extent of my inheritance.’
‘He’ll know once he shows up tomorrow. People who live in this street have to be multimillionaires at least. It won’t take him long to put two and two together.’
‘Derek’s not a fortune-hunter, Nick. He’s a very decent man.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I just know.’
‘My God, you know nothing!’ he flung at her. ‘Your father thought he was protecting you with his will. Instead, he set you up for disaster. He should have given most of his money away, donated it to some charity, not left it in the hands of a girl such as you.’
‘What do you mean, a girl such as me?’
He opened his mouth to say something but then obviously thought better of it. Instead, he picked up her bags and carried them along the hallway to her room, the stiff set of his shoulders very telling. After dumping her cases just inside the door, he retreated back out into the hallway.
‘We’ll continue this discussion later,’ he said in that deceptively quiet manner he always adopted on the odd occasion when he was in danger of losing his cool.
Over the years Sarah had learned to recognise this tactic of his. Nick hated losing his temper. Hated losing control. He preferred to act like the consummate ice-man, both professionally and personally. She’d rarely heard him yell. He didn’t even swear any more, as he once had.
But his body language could speak volumes. So could his eyes.
Though not always. He did have the ability to make them totally unreadable. But not straight away. If you were watching him closely, you could sometimes glimpse what was going on in his head before he drew the blinds down.
‘We’ll have morning tea in the kitchen,’ he pronounced, ‘then we’ll adjourn to my study and talk.’
‘Not about Derek,’ Sarah retorted. ‘I have no intention of listening to you criticising someone you haven’t even met.’
‘Fair enough. But I have lots of other things to talk to you about, Sarah. Important issues connected with your inheritance. I want to have everything settled before Christmas.’
‘But I don’t turn twenty-five till February,’ she protested. ‘We have the rest of my summer break to settle things!’
‘No, we don’t. I won’t be here.’
‘Where will you be?’
‘I’m spending most of January on Happy Island.’
Sarah’s heart sank. She knew Nick had a holiday house there. But he rarely used it at this time of year.
‘Flora never said anything about that when I called.’
‘The subject probably didn’t come up.’
‘There’s still the week between Christmas and New Year,’ she argued, feeling very put out with Nick’s choosing to go away for so long.
‘Yes. But I’m having a guest stay during that week. And you have your new boyfriend, who you freely admit you wish to spend every minute of every day with. Better we settle everything whilst we have the chance.’
‘But I have to decorate the tree today.’
‘I just want a couple of hours, Sarah. Not all day.’
‘What about tonight? Can’t this wait till tonight?’
‘I’m going present-shopping tonight.’
Sarah sighed. Wasn’t that just like a man to go present-shopping at the last minute?
‘Come on,’ he said abruptly. ‘Let’s go downstairs.’
‘I need to go to the bathroom first,’ she said quite truthfully.
‘Fine,’ he replied with another offhand shrug. ‘I’ll go ahead and tell Flora to put on the kettle.’
Sarah shook her head as she watched Nick go. Derek didn’t know what he was talking about. Dolling herself up tomorrow and sucking up to a pretend boyfriend wasn’t going to make a blind bit of difference. She was nothing to Nick but an obligation that he obviously wanted over and done with. It was clear to Sarah that he couldn’t wait for her twenty-fifth birthday to arrive.
Suddenly, she felt the same way. She was sick and tired of letting her feelings for Nick distress her. Sick and tired of secretly pining for what would never be.
Time to move on, girl. Time to get yourself a life. One that doesn’t include Nick!
CHAPTER THREE
FLORA was in the kitchen, cutting up the caramel slice she’d made that morning, when Nick walked in with a face like thunder.
‘Wasn’t that Sarah at the door?’ she asked.
‘Yep. She won’t be long. You can put on the kettle.’
Flora turned to pop the caramel slice back in the fridge before switching on the electric kettle. ‘It’s good to have her home,’ she said. ‘Isn’t it?’
Nick scowled as he slid onto one of the four stools fronting the black marble breakfast bar. ‘Speak for yourself, Flora.’
‘Come, now, Nick. You’ve missed her. You know you have.’
‘I know no such thing. Ray was out of his mind to make me that girl’s guardian. I’ll breathe a huge sigh of relief when February comes round, I can tell you.’
‘I suppose it has been a big responsibility,’ Flora agreed. ‘Especially considering how much money she’s going to inherit. What do you make of this new boyfriend of hers? Do you think he’s on the up and up?’
‘Who knows?’
‘It’s strange that