Chapter Five

When she woke the next morning, Lizzie’s first thought was that she was at home. Not the apartment in LA, but the home she’d once shared with her family. It was the sound of the sheep that tricked her. She’d grown up in the country, accustomed to waking to the bleating of lambs and the chatter of birds. The regret, when she realised she wasn’t waking up there, indeed that she’d never wake there ever again, was sharp and painful.

Needing the distraction she quickly drew back the blue and white check curtains. Okay, she wasn’t at home, but this wasn’t a bad place to wake up. There was a similar sense of peace to home. In fact the longer she stared at the tranquil country view, the more she could kid herself the shambles going on in LA was just a bad dream. And Lizzie was pretty good at kidding herself. If she was capable of pretending her family were still with her, then she could have a bloody good go at putting all that chaos to the back of her mind. At least for a while.

Shrugging on her robe she walked onto the landing, wondering if Nick was awake yet. As she tiptoed past his study, she heard him talking to someone on the phone. The door was ajar so she carefully pushed it open. He was sitting behind his desk, his back to her, but turned and smiled when the creak of the door gave her away. Quickly she backed out, shutting the door after her.

How stupid, she berated herself as she walked down the stairs. Worse, how selfish. Wallowing in her own self-pity, thinking only of what she wanted, what she needed, she’d conveniently forgotten Nick had a job to do. One that probably didn’t fit too easily with having to drop everything, jump on his white charger and dash across the Atlantic to rescue her, then babysit her.

Sighing deeply, she filled the kettle. It was, what, Thursday? Well, she’d stay till Sunday. That would give her long enough to get her head screwed back on, whilst not causing Nick too much further disruption. On Monday he could go back to his office, and she … the kettle wobbled in her hand. Cold dread, the type that had clung to her in LA, curled its way into the pit of her stomach. She would go back to hell. But hopefully, by then, she’d be feeling strong enough to face it.

‘You look very pensive,’ Nick remarked as he joined her in the kitchen. ‘Did you sleep okay?’

She glanced over. He had the look of a man who’d been up for a while – clean-shaven and dressed in jeans and a crisply ironed sky-blue shirt. He seemed to fill the kitchen, looking taller and broader than she’d remembered. And smelling gorgeous. It drifted up her nostrils: a hint of ocean, a sniff of fresh air, a waft of something sexy. The question, Lizzie. Answer his flipping question. ‘Err, yes thanks, I slept like a log.’ She indicated to the kettle. ‘Do you want a cup?’

‘Sure.’ He sat on the stool and waited while she poured the water out into the mugs, frowning when he saw her hands weren’t quite steady. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve been thinking about Charles and those flaming pictures again?’

Carefully taking the tea bags out of the mugs, and adding the milk, Lizzie pushed one over to him. She had been, yes, until he’d come into the room. Perhaps she was better off thinking of Charles.

‘Coming here is great, Nick. Exactly what I needed, but I’ve got to go back and face it all some time.’ She took a sip of tea. It was hot enough to almost scald her lips. Just how she liked it. ‘So I was thinking, I’ll go home Sunday. If that’s okay with you, of course. Me staying here until then.’

Slowly Nick put down his mug and stared at her. ‘That’s really what you want to do?’

His eyes drilled into hers and she almost told him the truth. No, of course it isn’t. But she’d been selfish and needy before and it had cost her parents their lives and Robert any sense of normality. Abruptly she spun away. ‘Do you want some toast?’ She began to forage in the bread bin.

‘Lizzie, forget the flipping toast for a moment. I want to know what your plans are. I had thought, well, I’d hoped …’ He let out a deep sigh. ‘Heck, I intended for you to stay a lot longer than that.’

‘Really?’ She nearly squeaked with joy.

‘Of course, really,’ he replied quietly. ‘I don’t want you going back until we’ve sorted out this mess. Hell, I won’t let you. If I need to, I’ll lock you in your bloody room. The speculation won’t stop until we’ve proved what Charles did, Lizzie. You can’t go back to living like you were when I found you.’

Tears threatened again, tears she didn’t want him to see because she’d drowned him enough already. ‘But you have a life,’ she told him haltingly. ‘I can’t expect you to suddenly stop everything to help me out. I know you think you have a duty to look after me. Some sort of promise to Robert.’

‘Rubbish.’

His vehemence rocked her back on her heels. ‘Well, I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted to let you know I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me already and—’

‘Lizzie, will you shut up for one blasted moment and give me a chance to speak?’ His voice was still raised, the words enunciated slowly and clearly. Perhaps he wasn’t angry, but exasperated.

She shut up.

‘Firstly, yes, I do have a life, but there’s no reason I can’t continue it with you here. On the days I need to go into London, you can choose to come with me, or stay at the barn. It’s up to you.’ Though he was back to calm and controlled, an edge of steel ran through his words. ‘Secondly, how on earth can you think I’m only helping out of duty? I’m doing this because I care for you, Lizzie. I care and I want to help. Okay?’

Oh boy, the tears were falling fast and hard and the tightness in her throat was making speech almost impossible. ‘Okay,’ she whispered, wiping her cheeks. ‘I guess if you put it like that.’

He stretched out his hand to squeeze hers. ‘Of course I also need to consider that if your parents are watching over us, they’d have my guts for garters if I didn’t look out for you.’

‘If they are watching, they’re already livid with me for getting into this flipping mess in the first place,’ she said with a sniff. ‘God, I seem to have this habit of blubbering all the time.’

He smiled. ‘Better to let the emotions out than keep them bottled up.’ Looking up at the clock, he shifted off the stool. ‘Right, I’ve got to make a few more calls and then I figured we could go for a walk. I know a pub that does a great lunch.’

‘Sounds good.’ She put a hand on his arm to stop him dashing away. ‘But please, Nick, if I start to get in the way …’

He flashed a grin at her. The one that made her knees buckle. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll let you know.’

The walk to the pub was over the hills, and Nick strode off at his usual brisk pace. It was one heck of a day for it. The sun was shining high in the sky and the spring weather warm enough to allow them the luxury of being unburdened by coats. Lambs bleated on either side as they rambled steadily through the fields. It always made him smile when he looked at them, their cheeky faces watching intently as they monitored the humans going by. Turning to ask whether she knew when a lamb became a sheep, he was surprised to find his companion – blonde hair once again covered by a dark wig, glasses shading her eyes – was several yards behind him.

‘Nick Templeton, for pity’s sake, will you slow down,’ Lizzie shouted at him, then cursed as she lost her footing down a rabbit hole.

Grinning, he waited for her to catch up, noting she finally had some colour in her cheeks. Combined with the wig and the oversized sunglasses, she looked like a glamorous film star; a present day Audrey Hepburn. She’d lost none of her unique sparkle, that was for sure. In fact it seemed she was growing even more stunning with age. What was she now? Five years less than him … that would make her twenty-six. Yes, she was now a truly beautiful woman. And way out of your reach.

‘If I’d realised we were going on a yomp, I’d have worn my combats,’ she complained as she drew alongside him. ‘You might have the long legs of a six foot man, but I don’t.’

‘Six foot three,’ he countered. ‘And yours look pretty long from where I’m standing. But that’s irrelevant. I do believe you’re unfit, Ms Donavue.’

‘Unfit my arse,’ she replied crossly, her breath coming out in fast pants. ‘When I was with Charles …’ She bit her lip and looked down at her mud-covered boots.

‘Oh yes, the personal trainer.’

‘Exactly.’ Shrugging, she lifted her eyes back up to his. ‘I should have realised then, when he was practically dragging me round the park, that he’d turn out to be a bastard. I called him one often enough, once my lungs had recovered.’

‘He can’t have been much of a personal trainer if a short walk over a few hills has you panting.’ And yes, that was meant to be a dig at Charles, not her, but her cool tone told him his aim was off.

‘I’m a bit weak from not eating over the last few days, that’s all. I could do with walking a little slower.’ Dutifully he fell in beside her. ‘Are you still as obsessed with exercise as ever?’

‘If you mean do I continue to believe in the benefits of exercise, then, yes, I guess I do,’ he clutched gratefully at the change of subject.

She smiled then, just a glimmer, but at least it had stopped her thinking about Charles. ‘And do you still take part in those ridiculous marathons?’

‘Hang on a minute, since when did it become ridiculous to challenge your body?’ She tipped up her glasses and the twinkle he saw in her eye told him she was playing with him. ‘I’ve not done as many recently,’ he admitted reluctantly. ‘When you get to my advanced age, the recovery takes a lot longer.’

‘You poor old thing.’ As she used to when they were growing up, she threaded her arm through his. ‘I admire you for taking part, though. I find it hard enough dragging myself out of bed for a three mile run, never mind the thought of doing that eight times over.’

‘I haven’t got any other reason to stay in bed.’ His eyes rested on her, staying there just a little too long. With an effort he dragged them away. What the hell was he doing, drooling over her like that? She’d run a mile if she guessed how he really felt. Probably even run twenty-six of the ruddy things.

‘Not even for Sally?’

Guilt rushed through him as he realised he’d been thinking of Lizzie in his bed, and not the woman he was, albeit it only loosely, sleeping with. ‘I told you, Sally and I aren’t … we’re not …’ he trailed off, annoyed with himself. His relationship with Sally wasn’t something he should be ashamed of. So what if it was just about sex and convenience? It wasn’t as if he was leading her on. Sally felt exactly the same way. ‘We’re not serious,’ he settled with. ‘And anyway, never mind my love life, what on earth were you doing dating a slimeball like Charles?’

Lizzie’s expression told him she didn’t want to discuss her love life, either. ‘He was a mistake.’

‘There seem to have been quite a few of them.’

She glanced at him sharply. ‘I’m not good at reading men.’

‘Hey, I wasn’t judging,’ he told her hastily, kicking himself for his bluntness. ‘It’s just I’ve noticed a certain, shall we say, type.’

‘You’ve been checking up on me, have you?’

Busted. He tried a casual shrug. ‘I’d prefer to call it taking an interest. Your dates seem to have become meaner and tougher looking each time.’

Her expression tightened. ‘So, I like a bad boy. It’s not unusual, you know.’

Wham. It felt like being punched in the gut. Her words couldn’t have been clearer. I don’t fancy you. Nick knew he could put on black leathers and shove a stud through his nose but he’d still look like the blasted boy next door.

‘Sorry.’ He let out a long, slow breath. ‘I didn’t mean to pry or to criticise.’

They walked on, but now the atmosphere between them was charged and Lizzie looked as tense as she had in LA. Change the bloody subject.

‘The pub’s not far. In fact, if you look over to your left, you’ll see the roof peeping out from between the hills.’ He slid a sideways glance at her. ‘Hopefully after you’ve eaten you’ll be sufficiently revived to keep up on the way back.’

‘Funny man.’ With a toss of her head she marched out ahead of him. Distracted by the sight of her trim behind, Nick stepped straight into a mound of sheep dung.