The Rebel and the Heiress. Michelle Douglas
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One shoulder lifted. He reached for the last unmangled cupcake. A dark lick of hair fell across his forehead. Nell pushed away from the table to stare, unseeing, out of the kitchen window, determined not to watch him demolish it with those delectable lips, determined not to watch him demolish it the way he seemed hell-bent on destroying this chance, this gift, he’d been given.
She pressed her hands to her chest. To have a sibling…
She stilled. She glanced back behind her for a second and then spun back. Rick hadn’t left. He hadn’t read John’s letter and then stormed out. He had shared the letter with her. Rick could feign indifference and couldn’t-care-less disregard all he wanted, but if he really didn’t care he’d have left by now.
Her cupcakes were good, but they weren’t that good.
She sat again. ‘I wish I had a brother or sister.’
‘And whose image would you most like them cast in?’ He leaned back, hands clasped behind his head. ‘Your mother’s or your father’s?’
She flinched. He blinked and for a moment she thought he might reach across the table to touch her. He didn’t. She forced herself to laugh. ‘I guess there is always that. A sibling may have provided further proof that I was the cuckoo in the nest.’
‘I didn’t mean it like that.’
The hell he hadn’t. ‘It’s okay.’ She made her voice wry. ‘You’ve had a shock, so it’s okay to say hurtful things to other people.’
He scrubbed a hand across his face. ‘I didn’t mean for it to be hurtful. I’m sorry. I just refuse to turn this into a “they-all-lived-happily-ever-after” fairy tale like you seem so set on doing.’
He didn’t want to get his hopes up. She couldn’t blame him for that.
He rose. ‘I believe I’ve long outstayed my welcome.’
Nell shot to her feet too. ‘But…but we haven’t figured out what marigolds mean yet or—’
‘I’m not sure I care, Princess.’
She opened her mouth, but he shook his head and the expression on his face had her shutting it again. ‘Good girl,’ he said.
Her chin shot up. ‘Don’t patronise me.’
He grinned a grin that made her blood heat and her knees weak and she suddenly wanted him gone. Now. ‘You know where to find me if you decide to investigate this issue further.’ And then she swung away to dump the used coffee grounds into the kitchen tidy. When she turned back he was gone. She sat, her heart pounding as if she’d run a race.
Rick let himself into Tash’s house, his head whirling and his temples throbbing. What the hell was he supposed to do now?
What do you want to do?
He wanted to run away.
But…
He pulled up short, dragged in a breath and searched for his customary indifference, but he couldn’t find it. Too many thoughts pounded at him. And one hard, implacable truth—he might not be able to do anything with the information John Cox had belatedly decided to impart. Marigolds might remain unsolved forever.
In which case he could jump in his car—now—and head north without a backward glance, without a single regret. Except…
What if Nell does work out what it means?
He had a brother or a sister. He rested his hands against his knees and tried to breathe through the fist that tightened around his chest.
‘That you, Rick?’
Tash’s voice hauled him upright. ‘Yep, just me,’ he called back, shoving aside the worst of his anger and confusion. Tash might be his best friend, but he wasn’t sharing this news with anyone.
He just hoped the Princess would keep her mouth shut too.
He forced his feet down the hallway and into Tash’s living room—still full of sun and summer, and all he wanted to do was close his eyes and sleep. One glance at him and Tash’s eyes narrowed. ‘What did Nell want?’
He swung away to peer into the fridge. ‘Soda?’
‘No, thanks.’
He grabbed a soda and then sauntered over to plant himself in an armchair.
Tash folded her arms. ‘She’s obviously pushed your buttons.’
‘Nah, not really.’ He shrugged. ‘She wanted to know if I had the time and the inclination to do some work on Whittaker House.’
‘Oh, Lord, you’re going to make the Princess your next project?’
He stretched out a leg. ‘I haven’t decided yet.’ He took a long drink. The cold liquid helped ease the burning in his throat. ‘Mind you, the place is going to rack and ruin.’
‘It’s a shame. It’s such a nice old place. Gossip has it that she only moved back in this week so she’s not wasting any time getting things shipshape again.’ Tash sent him one of her looks. ‘Rumour has it that she’s far from cash-happy at the moment.’
‘I kinda got that impression. What else does rumour say?’
Tash managed a local pub—The Royal Oak. Lots of workers from the glass factory drank there. What Tash didn’t know about local happenings wasn’t worth knowing.
‘Well, apparently there’s no love lost between Nell and her father.’
She could say that again.
‘Old Mrs Smythe-Whittaker left the house to Nell and I’m not sure how these things work, but it was left in trust for her father to manage until Nell turned twenty-five.’ Tash’s lips twisted. ‘Nell turned twenty-five earlier in the week. She moved in and…’
‘Her father moved out?’
‘Bingo.’
Before he could ask any more, Mitch came striding into the room. ‘Hey, gorgeous.’
‘Hey, doll,’ Rick murmured back, but neither Tash nor Mitch paid him the slightest attention.
Tash flew out of her chair to launch herself at the big blond detective. ‘Catch any bad guys today?’
Mitch thrust out his chest and pounded on it with one hand. ‘Loads.’
For a moment it made Rick grin. Mitch the shrewd detective and Tash the take-no-prisoners barmaid in love and flirting. A miracle of miracles.
He rose and set off back down the hallway for the front door. ‘I’m eating out tonight,’ he tossed over his shoulder.
He needed time to think.
He pushed out of the front door, his hand clenching into a fist. This whole thing could be an elaborate hoax, a nasty trick.
Or you could have a brother or a sister.
Could he really walk away from this?
He lengthened his stride but the thoughts and confusion continued to bombard him. Damn it all to hell! Why did this have to involve the Princess? She’d been trouble fifteen years ago and hard-won wisdom warned him she’d be trouble now.
There was something about her that set his teeth on edge too.
Somewhere inside him a maniacal laugh started up.
The next afternoon, Nell swiped a forearm across her brow and stared at the mountain of dishes that needed washing.
Staring at them won’t get them