Читать книгу The Princess and the Outlaw - Leanne Banks - Страница 10

It took most of the rest of the day to catch up with her cousin to get permission to use the cottage. Georgina was so gracious that it made Pippa feel guilty. Oh, well, if she was going to go through with providing the cottage for Nic’s mother and father, then her web of deception was just getting started. The choice to deceive her family was unforgivable, but the choice to turn her back on Amelie was more unacceptable. Her stomach churned because she wasn’t a dishonest person. The prospect of all the lies she would have to tell put a bad taste in her mouth.

She would normally try to reason with Stefan, but Pippa knew her entire family was unreasonable about the Lafitte matter. She would have to learn to push aside her slimy feelings about this and press on. The first task was to call Nic.

Nic studied the recent reports from his and his father’s business on his tablet PC while he drank a glass of Scotch. He took a deep breath of the Mediterranean night air as he sat on the deck of his yacht anchored close enough to shore for his mother to catch a glimpse of her precious Chantaine whenever she liked. He just hoped she didn’t do anything impulsive like jump overboard and swim to shore. Rubbing his chin, he shuddered at what a nightmare that would be. He couldn’t put it past her, though, especially after she’d sneaked off the other morning.

Nic was caught somewhere between genie and parent, and he wasn’t equipped to be either. The reports on both his father’s businesses and his own looked okay for the moment, but he knew he would have to go back to the States soon for his father’s company. With Amelie’s illness, Paul Lafitte had understandably been distracted. Despite the fact that they’d separated on two different occasions, Amelie was the light of Paul’s life and Nic wasn’t sure how his father would survive after his mother… Nic didn’t even want to think the word, let alone say it, even though he knew the time was coming.

Sighing, he took another sip of his Scotch and heard the vibrating buzz of his cell phone. The number on the caller ID surprised him. After his surprise meeting with Princess Pippa the other morning, he figured he’d never see her again except for public affairs.

He picked up the phone and punched the call button. “Nic Lafitte. Your Highness, what a surprise,” he said, unable to keep the bite from his voice. Pippa had turned out to be the tease of his life.

“Hello. I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she said, her voice tense with nerves, which made him curious.

“Just a perfect glass of Scotch and rare solitude,” he said.

A short silence followed. “Well, pardon the interruption, but I have some news that may be of interest to you.”

“You called to tell me you missed me,” he said, unable to resist the urge to bother her. During and after their little interlude last year, the woman had bothered the hell out of him.

He heard her sharp intake of breath and realized he’d scored. “I called about your mother.”

His pleasure immediately diminished. “What about her? Have you discussed the situation with your family, and now they won’t even allow her and my father in the harbor?”

“No, of course not,” Pippa said. “If you would just let me finish—”

“Go ahead,” he said, the semi-peacefulness of the evening now ruined.

“I found a cottage for your parents where they can stay,” she said.

Nic blinked in sudden, silent surprise.

“Nic, did you hear me?”

“Yes. Repeat that please.”

“I found a cottage for your parents on Chantaine,” she said.

“Why?” he demanded.

Another gap of silence followed. “Um, well, I have these cousins Georgina and Harry and neither of them live in Chantaine anymore. They haven’t even visited in years, and they inherited a cottage from their parents. It’s been vacant, again for years, so I thought, why not?”

“Exactly,” Nic said. “Why not? Except for the fact that my father has been banned from setting foot on Chantaine. I don’t suppose your brother experienced a sudden wave of compassion, or just a rational moment and has decided to pardon Paul Lafitte.”

“You don’t need to insult Stefan,” she said. “My brother is just defending my father’s honor.”

“Even though Stefan wouldn’t have been born if your father had married Amelie,” Nic said.

“Yes, I know it’s not particularly logical, but the point is I have found this house. Your mother wants more time in Chantaine. Staying there can make it happen.”

“You still haven’t addressed the issue about my father,” Nic said.

“Well, I thought we could work around that. Your mother mentioned that he broke his foot, so it’s not as if he’ll be able to tour much. When he does, perhaps he could wear a hat and glasses.”

“And a fake mustache?” he added, rolling his eyes. It was a ludicrous plan.

“I know it’s not perfect,” she said.

“Far from it,” he said.

“But it’s better than nothing.”

“I can’t take the chance that my father will end up in jail.”

“Perhaps that’s not your decision to make,” she countered, surprising him.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean shouldn’t he be given the choice?” she asked. “Besides, your father’s presence may never be discovered. It’s not as if there are copies of his photo posted everywhere the way you do in the States.”

“It’s called a Wanted Poster, and they’re mostly just displayed in post offices and convenience stores these days. We’ve progressed since the Wild West days,” he said.

“Exactly,” she said. “And so have we. No one has been beheaded in over one hundred and fifty years, and we haven’t used the dungeon as a prison for nearly a hundred.”

“Why don’t I feel better? I know that Chantaine doesn’t operate under the policy of innocent until proven guilty. Your judicial system, and I use the term loosely, moves slower than the process of turning coal into diamonds.”

“I didn’t call to debate my country’s judicial system. I called to offer a place to stay for your mother and father. If you want it, I shall arrange to have it cleaned and prepared for them. Otherwise…” She paused and he heard her take a breath.

“Otherwise?” he prompted.

“Otherwise, ciao,” she said and hung up on him.

Nic blinked again. Princess Pippa wasn’t the rollover he’d thought she was. He downed the rest of his exquisite Scotch, barely tasting it. What the hell. She had surprised him. Now he had to make a decision. Although his father had caused trouble for the entire family, Nic felt protective of him, especially in his father’s current state with his broken foot and his grief over Amelie.

Nic closed his eyes and swore under his breath. He already knew how his father would respond if given the choice of risking prosecution in Chantaine. Paul Lafitte was a blustering bear and bull. He would love the challenge… even if he was in traction and confined to the house.

Raking his hand through his hair, he knew what he had to do. He walked inside to the stateroom lounge where his father dozed in front of the television. A baseball game was playing and his father was propped in an easy chair snoring.

Maybe he should wait until tomorrow, Nic thought and turned off the television.

His father gave a loud snort and his eyes snapped open. “What happened? Who’s ahead?”

“Rangers,” Nic lied. The Rangers were having a terrible season.

“Yeah, and I’m the Easter bunny,” his father said.

Nic gave a dry laugh. His father was selective with the use of denial, and apparently he wasn’t going to exercise that muscle with the Rangers tonight. “Good luck hopping,” he said. “You need anything to drink?”

“Nah. Take a seat. What’s on your mind? I can tell something’s going on,” he said, waving his hand as if the yacht belonged to him instead of Nic.

Nic sank onto the sofa next to his father. “I got an interesting call tonight.”

“Must have been a woman. Was she pregnant?” his father asked.

Nic gave a short laugh. “Nothing like that. I’ve been offered a cottage where you and Mom can stay. On Chantaine.”

His dad gave a low whistle. “How did you manage that?”

Nic shrugged. “Lucky, I guess. The problem is you still have legal issues in Chantaine.”

His dad smiled and rubbed his mouth. “So I do, and punching Prince Edward in the face after he insulted your mother was worth it ten times over.”

“Easy to say, but if you stay in Chantaine, there’s a possibility that you could get caught.” Nic shook his head. “Dad, with their legal system, you could be stuck in jail for a while.”

“So?” he asked.

“So, it’s a risk. You’re not the young buck you once were. You could end up stuck there while Mom is…” He didn’t want to say the rest.

His father narrowed his eyes. It was an expression Nic had seen several times on his father’s face. The dare a pirate couldn’t deny. He descended from wily pirates. His father was no different, although his father had gotten caught a few times. “Your mother wants to rest in Chantaine. We’ll accept the kind offer of your friend. To hell with the Devereauxs.”

“Might not want to go that far,” Nic said, thinking another glass of Scotch was in order. “A Devereaux is giving you the cottage.”

“Well, now that sounds like quite the story,” his father said, his shaggy eyebrows lifted high on his forehead.

“Another time,” Nic said. “You need to rest up for your next voyage.”

His father gave a mysterious smile. “If my great-great-grandfather escaped the authorities on a peg leg, I can do it with a cast.”

Nic groaned. “No need to push it, Dad.”

The next morning, he dialed the princess.

“Hello,” she said in a sleep-sexy voice that did weird things to his gut.

“This is Nic. We’ll accept your kind offer. Meet me at the cottage and I’ll clean it. The less people involved, the better.”

Silence followed. “I didn’t think of that,” she confessed. “I’m accustomed to staff taking oaths of silence.”

He smiled at her naïveté. “This is a different game. Too many people need to be protected. You, my mother and father. We need to keep this as quiet and low-profile as possible.”

“Okay. I’ll meet you at the cottage mid-morning,” she said.

“What about your security?” he asked.

“I’ll tell them I’m going to the library,” she said.

“Won’t they follow you?”

“I’ll go to the library first. They’ll get bored. They always do.”

“Who are these idiots on your security detail?” he asked.

“Are you complaining?”

“No,” he said. “And yes.”

She laughed, and the breathless sound made his chest expand. He suddenly felt lighter. “How do you end up with the light end of the security detail?”

“I’m boring. I don’t go clubbing. I’ve never been on drugs. I babysit my nieces and nephews. I study genealogy, for bloody’s sake.”

He nodded, approving her M.O. “Well done, but does that fence ever feel a little too tall for you? Ever want to climb out?”

“I climb out when I want,” she said in a cool voice. “I’ll see you this afternoon around 1:00 p.m. The address is 307 Sea Breeze. Ciao,” she said and hung up before he could reply.

Nic pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it. He was unaccustomed to having anyone hang up on him, let alone a woman. He must have really gotten under Pippa’s skin to affect her manners that way. The possibility brought him pleasure. Again, he liked the idea of bothering her.

Just before one, he pulled past the overgrown hedges of the driveway leading to an expansive bungalow. Looked like there was a separate guest bedroom. Dibs, he thought. He could sleep there and keep track of his parents while keeping on top of the businesses.

He stopped his car behind another—Pippa’s. He recognized it from the other day. Curious, he stepped from his vehicle and walked to the front door and knocked. He waited. No answer. He knocked again.

No answer again, so he looked at the doorknob and picked the lock. Pirates had their skills. He opened the door and was shocked speechless at the sight in front of him. Pippa, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt with her wild hair pulled back in a ponytail, was vacuuming the den.

The princess had a very nice backside, which he enjoyed watching for a full moment… okay, two.

Pippa turned and spotted him, screaming and dropping the vacuum handle. She clutched her throat with her hands. The appliance made a loud groan of protest.

“Did you consider knocking?” she demanded.

He lifted two fingers, then pulled up the vacuum cleaner handle and turned it off. “Twice. You didn’t answer. I would have never dreamed you could be a cleaning fairy. This is a stretch.”

“I spent a couple summers in a rustic camp in Norway. Cleaning was compulsory. We also cleaned the homes of several of the camp leaders.”

“You didn’t mention this to your parents?” he asked.

She laughed. “I didn’t speak to my parents very often. I mentioned something about it to my nanny after the second summer and was never sent back after that. The cleaning wasn’t that bad. The camp had a fabulous library and no one edited my reading choices. Heaven for me,” she said.

“Will clean for books?” he said.

She smiled and met his gaze. “Something like that.”

He held her gaze for a long moment and saw the second that her awareness of him hit her. Breaking the visual connection, she cleared her throat. “Well, I should get back to work.”

“Anything special you want me to do?”

“Mop the floors if you don’t mind. I’ve already dusted the entire house, but haven’t touched the guest quarters outside. I think it would also be a good idea for you to assess the arrangement of the furniture throughout the house for any special needs your parents may have, such as your father’s foot problem. We don’t want him tripping and prolonging his recovery.”

“I don’t know. It might be a good thing if my father is immobile. He could cause trouble when he’s full strength,” Nic said. “He’s always been a rebellious, impulsive man. I hate to say it, but he might just take a trip out of the house so he can feel like he’s flying in the face of your family.”

Pippa winced. “He wouldn’t admit his name, would he?”

“I hope not. That’s part of the reason I wasn’t sure this was a good idea,” he said.

“What made you change your mind?”

“You did. My father will be okay if he’s reminded that his responsibility is to make this time for my mother as trouble-free as possible. I’ll make sure he gets that message in multiple modalities every day.”

“Thank you very much,” she said.

“If you’re so terrified that your family will find out, why did you take this risk for yourself? Your relationship with your brothers and sisters will never be the same if they know you did this.”

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a half beat as if to bolster her determination. “I hate the idea of disappointing my brothers and sisters. I hate it more than you can imagine, but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I could help your mother with this one wish if I had the ability. And I have the ability.”

“I’ll do what I can to make sure the rest of the Devereauxs don’t find out. I haven’t told my mother yet about the cottage. She’s going to be very excited.”

Pippa smiled. “I hope so.”

“Thanks,” he said. “I’ll go check out the bedrooms.”

An hour later, after Pippa finished vacuuming and tackled the kitchen, she found Nic cleaning the hall bathroom. It was an ironic sight. Hot six-foot-four international businessman scrubbing the tub. Just as he wouldn’t expect to find her turn into a cleaning machine, she wouldn’t expect the same of him, either. She couldn’t help admiring the way his broad shoulders followed the shape of a V to his waist. Even in a T-shirt, the man looked great from behind. Bloody shame for her. Get your mind out of the gutter.

He turned around before she had a chance to clear her throat or utter a syllable. She stared at him speechless for a second, fearing he could read her mind. Not possible, she told herself as she felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

In too many ways, she thought, but refused to dwell on them. “I’m almost finished with the kitchen, and it occurred to me that it might be a good idea to arrange for some groceries to be picked up for your parents before they arrive.”

“Groceries?” he echoed.

“Yes, I was hoping you could help with a list.”

He made a face. “I don’t do a lot of grocery shopping. My housekeeper takes care of that.”

“I have less experience with grocery shopping that I do with cleaning. That’s why I thought we could send someone.”

“Who can we trust?” he asked.

She winced. “Excellent point.”

“After we move them in, I’ll just arrange for a member of my staff from the yacht to take care of house and shopping duties,” he said. “But unless we want to delay their move-in, it looks like we’ll need to do the initial run ourselves.”

“We?” she squeaked.

“I didn’t think it would be nice to ask you to do it by yourself,” he said.

But it had clearly crossed his mind. She frowned.

“Will that put you a little close for comfort to the plebeians?”

“No,” she told him, detesting the superior challenging expression on his face. “I was just trying to remember if I’d left my cap in my vehicle.”

“I have an extra,” he said. “I’ll take you in my car.”

“What about the list?”

“We’ll wing it,” he said.

Moments later, she grabbed her cap from her car and perched her oversize sunglasses on her nose. She didn’t bother to look at her reflection. After spending the afternoon cleaning, she knew she didn’t look like anyone’s idea of a princess. Nic opened the passenger door for her and she slid into his car.

After he climbed into the driver’s side, the space inside his Mercedes seemed to shrink. She inhaled to compensate for the way her lungs seemed to narrow at Nic’s proximity, but only succeeded in drawing in a draft of the combination of his masculine scent and subtle but sexy cologne. He pulled out of the driveway.

“Which way to the nearest market?” he asked.

Pippa blinked. She had no idea.

“Here,” he said, handing her his phone. “Find one on my smartphone.”

It took a couple moments, and Nic had to backtrack, but they were moving in the right direction.

“I’m thinking eggs, milk, bread and perhaps some fruit,” she said, associating each item with one of her fingers. It was a memory trick she’d taught herself when she was young. The only problem was when she ran out of fingers.

“Chocolate, cookies and wine,” Nic added. “A bakery cake if we can find it. My mother’s priority for eating healthy went down the tubes after her last appointment with the doctor. My dad will want booze and carbs. His idea of health food is a pork roast with a loaded baked potato.”

“Oh, my,” she said, trying to wrap her head around Nic’s list versus hers. “I hope we can find—”

“They’ll be happy with whatever we get for the first twenty-four hours,” Nic said as he pulled into the parking lot. “Let’s just do this fast,” he added and pulled on a ball cap of his own. “The faster we move, the less chance you have of being discovered.”

“I think I’m well-disguised,” she said as he opened the door and helped her out of the car.

“Until you open your mouth,” he said.

“What do you mean by that?”

He led her toward the door of the market. “I mean you have a refined, distinctive voice, PD. A combination of husky sweet and so proper you could have been in Regency England.”

“PD,” she echoed, then realized PD stood for Pippa Devereaux. “Well, at least I look ordinary,” she huffed.

He stopped beside her. “And I don’t,” he said, tugging on his ball cap.

She allowed herself a forbidden moment of looking at him from head to toe. He could have been dressed in rags and he would be sexy. She swallowed an oath. “You don’t know the meaning of ordinary,” she said and walked in front of him.

Hearing Nic grab a cart behind her, she moved toward the produce. “Surely, they’d enjoy some fruit. Your mother seemed to favor fruit crepes the other day.”

“They were wrapped in sugar,” he said as she picked up a bunch of bananas and studied them. “In the basket,” he instructed. “We have a need for speed, PD.”

“I’m not sure I like being called PD,” she said, fighting a scowl as she put the bananas in the cart.

He pressed his mouth against her ear. “Would you prefer PP instead? For Princess Pippa?”

A shiver of awareness raced through her and she quickly stepped away. “Not at all,” she said and picked up an apricot. “Does this look ripe?”

“It’s perfect,” he said, swiping it from her hand and added two more to the cart. “Now, move along.”

She shot him an affronted look but began to walk. “No one except my brothers or sisters would dream of speaking to me that way.”

“One of my many charms, PD,” he said and tossed a loaf of bread into the cart.

Moments later, after throwing several items into the cart, they arrived at the register. Pippa picked up a bag of marshmallows.

“Good job,” he said.

“I thought they could make that camping dessert you Americans eat,” Pippa said. She’d read about it in a book.

“Camping treat?” he echoed.

“Some More of something,” she said.

His eyes widened. “S’mores,” he said. “We need chocolate bars and graham crackers. Get him to hold you,” he said and strode away.

“Hold me?” she said at the unfamiliar expression and caught the cashier studying her. He was several years younger than she was with rings and piercing in places that made her think ouch.

He leaned toward her. “If you need holding, I can help you after I finish my shift,” he said in a low voice.

Embarrassment flooded through her. She was rarely in a position for a man to flirt with her. Her brother usually set her up with men at least twenty years older, who wouldn’t dare make an improper advance, so she wasn’t experienced with giving a proper response. “The grocery order,” she finally managed. “I was repeating what my, uh, friend said. He misspoke, as he often does. The grocery order need holding.”

The cashier looked disappointed. “The customer behind you is ready.”

Pippa considered pulling royal rank, but knew it would only hurt her in the end, so she stepped aside and allowed the person behind her with a mammoth order go first.

Less than a moment later, Nic appeared with chocolate bars and graham crackers. He glanced at the person in front of her and frowned. “How did that happen? I told you to hold the cashier.”

“There was a mix-up and he thought I wanted, uh, him for reasons other than his professional duties. When I refused his kind invitation, he felt spurned and allowed the customer behind me to proceed.” She sighed. “Do all men have such delicate egos?”

Nic lifted a dark brow before he pulled his sunglasses over his eyes. “Depends on how many mixed messages we get. Poor guy.”