also happen to know what people think of me—the pampered society princess who has never had to lift a finger one day in her life.’ She strode over and stabbed a finger to his shoulder. ‘Well, I’m not useless and I’m not a failure and I’m not...I’m not useless!’
He grabbed the finger that kept jabbing at him and curled his hand around it. ‘You’re not useless, Princess. You’re amazing. Completely amazing and I’m sorry I misjudged you.’
She tried to tug her hand free but he wouldn’t let her. ‘You really are skint?’
She stopped struggling to frown at him. ‘Yes.’
‘Yet amid all of your own troubles you’ve found the time to help me.’
‘Help or hound?’
He chuckled and a warmth he’d never experienced washed over him. ‘Thank you for cleaning my cottage.’
‘You’re welcome.’
God, such vulnerability in those wide green eyes, such softness and sweetness beckoned in those lips. She smelt like sugar and frosting and all the things he’d ever longed for. An ache gripped him so hard he had to drag in a breath. ‘Princess...’ The endearment scraped out of him, raw with need and longing.
She swayed towards him, those green eyes lowering to his lips. The pulse at the base of her throat fluttered faster and faster. Her hand tightened in his.
He gripped her chin and lifted it, needing to taste her so badly he thought he might fall to his knees from the force of it. Desire licked fire through his veins. He moved in close—so close he could taste her breath—but the expression in her eyes froze him.
They glittered. With tears.
‘Don’t you dare kiss me out of pity.’
She didn’t move out of his hold and he knew then she was as caught up in the grip of desire as him.
‘Please, Rick. Don’t kiss me because you feel sorry for me.’
The tears trembled, but they didn’t fall. Every muscle he had screamed a protest, but he released her and stepped back. He swallowed twice before he was sure his voice would work. ‘Pity was the last thing on my mind, Princess. So was guilt and feeling apologetic.’
It was just...he’d allowed himself to see her properly for the first time and it had blown him away. He needed to get away from her, to find a sense of balance again. ‘I just...’ he dragged a hand back through his hair ‘...I just think it’d be a really bad idea to kiss you.’
‘Definitely.’
He glanced at her sharply, but he couldn’t see any irony or sarcasm in her face.
She tossed her head. ‘Besides, I don’t want you or anyone else to think I’m taking advantage of you.’
He almost laughed. ‘Take advantage of me?’ That’d be the day.
She waved an impatient hand in the air. ‘You know what I mean—seducing you so you’ll fix up my house all spick and span.’ She glared. ‘I can stand on my own two feet.’
He glanced at Candy. ‘I don’t doubt that for a moment.’ Did she ever take a day off?
‘Right.’ She smoothed down her skirt. ‘Good. I had some keys cut for you—the front and back doors and the gate here in the fence.’
There was an awkward moment where she held them out to him and he tried to take them and they danced around each other, trying not to touch. In the end she tossed them in the air and he caught them.
‘Now, if you don’t mind...’ She collected her coffee mug from where she’d set it on the ground. ‘I’m going to go have a much-needed shower.’
‘There’s something else we need to talk about, Princess.’
She turned back.
‘Those jewels can’t stay in the cottage while I’m living there.’
‘But—’
‘I’ve been to prison, Nell, and I’m not going back. If those jewels go missing the finger will be pointed at me.’
‘Not by me!’
She said that now. ‘You need to put them in a safety deposit box, because I’m not risking it.’
* * *
The shadows in Rick’s eyes told Nell exactly what prison had been like. Oh, not in detail, perhaps, but in essence. She suppressed a shiver. ‘I didn’t think of that,’ she finally said.
When really what she wanted to say was kiss me, kiss me, kiss me. Not that kissing would do either one of them any good.
She stroked her fingers down her throat. It might help iron out some kinks...scratch an itch or two.
Oh, stop it! Be sensible.
She cleared her throat. ‘Is it okay if I collect them first thing in the morning? As soon as it opens I’ll take them to the bank for safekeeping.’
For a moment she thought he might insist on her taking them now, but eventually he nodded. ‘First thing.’
With a nod, she backed out of the garage and fled for the house, leaving him to close up, or to drive his car around, or whatever he pleased.
She sat, planted her elbows on the kitchen table and massaged her temples. Dear Lord, she had to fight this attraction to Rick because he was right—kissing would be a bad, bad idea. It’d end in tears—hers. The minute Rick discovered his sibling’s identity he’d be out of town so fast she wouldn’t see him for dust.
As a kid she’d dreamed of Rick riding up and rescuing her—like the prince rescuing Rapunzel from her tower. That had all been immature fantasising mixed up with guilt, yearning and loneliness. It hadn’t been based on any kind of reality.
It hadn’t factored in Rick going to jail.
It hadn’t factored in that she could, in fact, save herself.
She shot to her feet. ‘I am a strong woman who can make her dreams come true.’
She kept repeating that all the way to the shower.
* * *
During the next week Nell marvelled at the progress Rick made on the house. He transformed the parlour from something tired and battered into a room gleaming with promise. He’d done something to the fireplace—blackened it, perhaps—that highlighted the fancy tile-work surrounding it. The mantelpiece shone.
It didn’t mean they became cosy and buddy-buddy, though. They edged around as if the other were some kind of incendiary device that would explode at the slightest provocation.
When Nell returned home in the afternoons she and Rick would chat—carefully, briefly. Rick would either continue with whatever he was doing or retire
