by Douglas, Michelle; Gordon, Lucy; Pembroke, Sophie; Hardy, Kate
Could he live with that?
Maybe, but in his bones he knew he didn’t want to.
Damn it all to hell!
He came back to himself to find Nell copying the code onto a notepad. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Making a copy.’
‘Why?’
She’d taken this too personally—as if John had lied to her.
‘I’m going to do an Internet search on codes tonight to see what I can find out.’
‘Nell, this isn’t your problem.’
‘That’s not what it feels like.’ She finished and pushed the letter back towards him. ‘Besides, it won’t hurt to have a copy.’
He supposed not.
‘C’mon.’ She rose. ‘We haven’t checked John’s cottage yet. There might be a box or two of his belongings left behind, something that might give us a clue.’
He rose. What he should do was thank her for her help, and tell her this was no longer her problem. Except...it wouldn’t hurt to check out where John Cox had spent over thirty years of his life. It might give him a sense of the man. He’d take anything to gain some leverage in this wild goose chase.
And then he could leave.
For good.
He couldn’t prevent a sense of déjà vu when they stepped out of the back door and made their way across the terrace. The yellow heads of dandelions waved in the breeze. Nell pointed to one. ‘I’ve always kind of liked them. They’re cheery, don’t you think? I must’ve spread a whole forest of them throughout the garden. I loved it when they turned puffy and I could blow their seed heads and set them free. I used to think if I could blow the entire seed head off in one breath and make a wish it’d come true.’
‘Did your wishes ever come true?’
She lifted an eminently elegant shoulder. ‘I expect one or two must’ve, I made so many. Law of averages would suggest so.’
She was lying. He wasn’t sure how he knew. Maybe it was the way she lifted a hand to her face to brush an imaginary strand of hair back behind her ear. Maybe it was the way she studiously avoided meeting his gaze.
And maybe he was watching her just a little too closely? Gritting his teeth, he forced his eyes to the front.
They passed the garden shed. They moved beyond Nell’s first flowerbed until they reached the very back of the property. Nell pushed open a gate in a six-foot-high bamboo fence to reveal a cottage on the other side. Rick followed. ‘You’d have no idea this was here if you didn’t know about it.’
‘That’s the point. Heaven forbid that one should catch a glimpse of where the hired help live.’
He couldn’t tell from either her voice or her bearing whether she subscribed to that view or not. She didn’t give him the time to figure it out either, but strode up the two steps leading to the cottage’s veranda and reached for the door handle...and then came up short when it didn’t budge. She turned back to him with a shrug. ‘Locked. I wonder where the set of master keys for the property can be?’
He knew how to pick a lock...
Nell moved back down the steps, dropped to her knees and reached beneath the veranda. When she drew her hand back she held a key.
It hit him then that he wouldn’t be able to just walk away. Nell knew his father and this property like no one else did. If he wanted to solve this mystery he was going to need her help.
Nell was going to be the key.
* * *
Nell tossed the key to Rick.
He caught it as if he’d been catching curve balls all of his life. Which was probably true. She bit back a sigh. She couldn’t change Rick’s past any more than she could change her own.
‘You can do the honours,’ she told him.
‘Why?’
She blinked. ‘What on earth do you mean—why?’ She didn’t feel like explaining her ambivalence. ‘Because you’re closer.’
‘Was closer,’ he corrected.
How was it possible for this man to divine her private moods so accurately? Who are you really angry with? She shied away from that one. ‘As far as I know, this place hasn’t been disturbed in months. If there’re any creepy-crawlies in there you can encounter them first.’
‘I’m not buying that for a moment, Princess. I just saw the way you stuck your hand beneath the veranda. You’re not afraid of spiders or insects.’
‘What about ghosts?’ The words shot out of her before she could pull them back. She grimaced at his raised eyebrow. ‘Not a literal one. Ghosts from the past.’
She ruffled out the skirt of her dress to give her an excuse not to look at him. ‘This area was always out of bounds to me when I was a child. I’m still not feeling a hundred per cent easy being here.’
‘Princess, you own this cottage. It’s yours. You have every right to be here.’
She lifted her chin and considered him. He raised that eyebrow then, as if daring her. She plucked the key from his fingers, stuck it in the lock and turned it. ‘I don’t even know if the power’s still connected.’ She swung the door open, but when she tried the switch, light flooded the room.
She stepped inside with Rick at her heels. The door led straight into the living room. ‘I’ve never been in here before,’ she murmured, ‘so I don’t know the layout.’
This room and the adjoining kitchen were sparsely furnished but, other than a faint layer of dust, it was remarkably clean and tidy. She strode across to the kitchen area and hunted through the cupboards. ‘There’s some crockery, cooking utensils and cutlery, but there doesn’t seem to be anything personal,’ she said, turning back to the living area.
‘Not much in here either,’ Rick said, closing the drawer of the sideboard.
‘Maybe we’ll have more luck in the bedrooms.’
But, other than a bed, a mattress encased in plastic—presumably to protect it from the dust—and some linens, they found no trace of John Cox’s presence in either of the two bedrooms. It was as if he’d been washed away when the cleaners had come in. Whoever her father had hired, they’d done their job to perfection.
Nell dropped to the wooden chair that sat at the desk in the smaller of the two bedrooms. Had John used this room as a study? If so, what had he studied? What, other than gardening, had he been interested in?
Other than avoiding his paternal duties, that was.
She glanced at Rick. She couldn’t tell what impression the cottage had made on him. If any.
He turned as if he’d felt the weight of her gaze. ‘You were hoping we’d find something.’
‘Of course I was. Weren’t you?’
‘I thought it a fool’s mission from the beginning.’
Oh, great. She glared at the ceiling. So not only was she a spoiled little rich girl, but she was a fool too? She straightened when she realised what she was staring at. ‘A loft hatch.’ She rose and set her chair beneath it and then gestured for Rick to investigate further.
‘If there’s anything at all up there, Princess, it’ll only be porn magazines.’
‘Look, I’m not tall enough to reach it properly so just humour me, okay?’
He didn’t move. He just stared at her instead. She lifted her arms and let them drop. ‘If I have to go and get the ladder from the shed to do it myself I will.’
With a smothered something she was glad she didn’t catch, Rick hauled himself up on the chair and pushed the loft cover to one side. Pulling himself up, he peered inside.
Nell surveyed the way his forearm muscles bunched and the promise of bulging biceps. Not to mention the long clean line of his back. Her heart pitter-pattered. Her fingers curled into her palms, even as her tongue touched the corner of her mouth.
Rick had been a good-looking youth, but it was nothing to the man he’d become. And in those jeans there was no denying that he was all man.
>
And the stupid fluttering in her throat reminded her that she wasn’t the kind of woman who was immune to Rick’s particular brand of masculinity. Not that she had any intention of doing anything more than looking.
‘There’s something up here.’
That snapped her to. ‘What is it?’
If only it’d give them another piece of the puzzle. Or, barring that, a clue as to how to solve that stupid coded message.
‘I’m going up.’
With that, he disappeared completely into the ceiling space. Nell paced down below. ‘What is it?’ she called up again.
‘Some kind of box.’
‘Are there any photos in it? A family tree or birth certificates or—’
His face appeared at the hole and he laughed down at her. ‘You really are the eternal optimist, aren’t you?’
Her face fell.
‘It’s locked,’ he said. ‘Here—I’ll pass it down to you.’
She had to stand on the chair to reach it. When she was on the ground again, he swung himself back down beside her. ‘Don’t worry, Princess. I’m a dab hand at picking a lock.’
She couldn’t drag her gaze from the box.
‘Nell?’
She swallowed and forced her gaze up to his. ‘We won’t need to pick the lock.’ She handed him the box and reached up to open the locket at her throat. She removed the tiny key it contained.
His gaze narrowed. ‘Where did you get that?’
She touched the locket. ‘This was my grandmother’s. And that—’ she nodded at the box ‘—is her jewellery box.’
He stared at her and the lines around his mouth turned white. ‘John Cox stole your grandmother’s jewels?’
She laughed. It held little mirth, though it was better than sitting in the middle of the room and bawling her eyes out. ‘I don’t think he stole them. I think he probably saved them.’
Comprehension dawned in his eyes. ‘From your father?’
‘From my father.’ Before she’d died, her grandmother had owned a couple of nice pieces. Nell had thought them long gone.
He slung an arm about her shoulders and led her back into the living room. He placed the box on the tiny kitchen table and pushed her into one of the two chairs. He sat in the other. Even though he’d removed his arm she could still feel the warm weight of it and the lean coiled power of his body as he’d walked beside her. He smelt like dust and something smoky and aromatic like paprika.
‘Aren’t you going to open it?’
Of course she was. It was just...she’d never expected to see this box again. She missed her grandmother. Seeing this only made her miss her more.
His face darkened. ‘Or would you prefer to take it back to the big house and open it in private?’
Her spine stiffened. Her chin lifted. ‘I never once thought you a thief, Rick Bradford!’ A temptation, definitely, and one she fully intended to resist, but a thief? No.
For a moment his slouch lost some of its insolence. ‘Goes to show what you know, Nell Smythe-Whittaker. My teenage shoplifting is on police record.’
‘I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer.’ She pulled the box towards her, unlocked it and lifted the lid. Her breath caught. ‘Oh, her rings! I remember her wearing these.’ She had to swallow a lump. ‘My grandfather gave her this one.’ She touched a large diamond ring. ‘And this emerald belonged to her grandmother. The gold signet belonged to her mother.’ She lifted them out one by one and passed them to Rick.
‘The diamond and the emerald might fetch you a bit.’
‘I couldn’t sell them!’
She knew he wouldn’t understand her sentimentality, but...her grandmother was the only person in her life who’d loved her unconditionally.
‘How old were you when she died?’
‘Seventeen.’
‘That must’ve been tough.’
Sure, but it was nothing compared to all Rick had been through in his life. ‘Oh, look.’ She lifted a shoulder in a wry shrug. ‘John has left me a letter.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘He’s turning out to be the regular correspondent.’
Dear Miss Nell,
If you’ve found your grandma’s box then I expect you know why I hid it. I’m sorry I couldn’t rescue it all before your daddy got a hold of the diamond necklace.
She stopped to glance into the box. ‘Yep, gone,’ she clarified.
‘We only have John’s word it was your father who took it.’
‘And my knowledge of my father.’
Rick straightened. Unfortunately, it didn’t make his shoulders any the less droolworthy. ‘Hell, Nell.’
‘Hell’s bells, Nell, has an even better ring to it,’ she told him, resisting the sympathy in his eyes and choosing flippancy instead.
Who are you really angry with?
She cleared her throat and smoothed out the sheet of paper.
I know the old lady meant these for you, and I know you’d want to pass them on to your own daughters when the time comes.
Regards, John.
She folded the letter and put it back in the box. Silently, Rick put the rings back on top. Nell locked it. She pulled in a breath and then met his gaze. ‘Rick, would you please put this back where you found it?’
His head rocked back. ‘Why? You should at least wear this stuff if you’re not going to sell it. You should at least enjoy remembering your grandmother.’
In an ideal world...
She moistened her lips. ‘The set of master keys for Whittaker House are nowhere to be found. Until I find them I can’t...’ She halted, swallowed. ‘What I’m trying to say is that I can’t think of a safer place to keep them than where we found them.’
‘You’re forgetting one thing.’
‘What’s that?’
‘I know where they are.’
‘I’ve already told you that I don’t believe you’re a thief.’
‘No, but I do mean to make you a proposal, Princess, and that might change how you feel about things.’
CHAPTER FIVE
NELL’S HEART STUTTERED at the casual way Rick uttered the word proposal. It held such promise and she knew that promise was a lie.
Oh, not a lie on his behalf, but on hers. She wanted to invest it with more meaning than he could ever hope to give it—a carry-over from her childhood fantasies of making things right over the locket.
The childhood fantasy of having one true friend.
But Rick didn’t know any of that. The man in front of her might look like the boy who’d starred in her fantasies, but inside she didn’t doubt that her boy and the real Rick were very different people.
Life hadn’t been kind to Rick Bradford.
And she needed to remember he had no reason to think kindly or act kindly towards her.
He stared at her with those dark eyes and she drew a long breath into her lungs. ‘Proposal?’ She was proud her voice didn’t tremble.
‘I was going to leave Sydney at the end of the week.’
That didn’t give them much time to crack John’s code.
‘I’ve holidayed long enough and it’s time to be doing something.’
She couldn’t help herself. ‘What do you do for work?’ Did he have a regular job?
‘I usually pick up some building labourer’s work here and there.’
So, that’d be a no then.
He grinned—a lazy insolent thing, as if he’d read her mind. ‘I don’t like being tied down to one thing for too long.’
She knew then he was talking about women and relationships too.
‘I like my freedom.’
Given how his freedom had been curtailed in prison, she could understand that.
A p
rison sentence he should never have had to serve, though. A prison sentence he had served because a woman had taken advantage of him.
‘What are you thinking about?’ he suddenly barked and she jumped.
‘How awful jail must’ve been.’ It didn’t occur to her to lie, but when his face turned grey she wished she had. ‘I’m sorry you were sent to jail for something you didn’t do, Rick.’
‘It’s all in the past.’
The words came out icily from between uncompromising lips and Nell had to suppress a shiver. He’d carry the scars of jail with him forever. She glanced down at her hands before lifting her chin. She had no right picking the scabs off those wounds. ‘You said you were planning to leave Sydney, as in past tense. Have you changed your mind?’
His eyes blazed. He stabbed a finger to the table and dust rose up in the air around him. His crisp white shirt, his hands and hair all sported streaks of dust and cobwebs. She guessed the skirt of her dress wasn’t in much better shape. It was the kind of carelessness that as a child had earned her rebuke after rebuke from her mother.
She forced her chin up higher. Well, her mother was off somewhere with husband number four and Nell was old enough to do what she darn well pleased. She didn’t have to answer to anyone.
But those dirty streaks on Rick’s shirt reminded her that while he’d been convicted of a crime he hadn’t committed, it didn’t necessarily make him a law-abiding citizen. It didn’t mean he wasn’t a heartbreaker who’d take advantage of weakness when he saw it in others.
And you’re weak.
She swallowed. Correction. She had been weak. Past tense.
He continued to glare at her with those blazing eyes but he didn’t say anything. She made her voice as impersonal as she could. ‘You were saying?’