The Prince Brothers: Satisfaction Guaranteed!. Кэрол Мортимер

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СКАЧАТЬ the knock sounded on the door once again.

      ‘Not for a while, at least.’ He grimaced, taking a firm hold of her arm. ‘Let’s go somewhere where we can’t hear them—’

      ‘Let’s not,’ Jinx contradicted, pointedly removing her arm from the hold he had of her. ‘Do you think they managed to get a photograph?’ She frowned at the thought.

      He winced. ‘Maybe not…’

      ‘In other words—yes,’ Jinx sighed. ‘This is such a mess. I don’t know what to do next. I—’ She broke off as the door opened at the end of the hallway.

      ‘Juliet, is that you, dear?’

      She pushed past Nik, smiling brightly as she walked down the hallway to meet her father. He was a tall, spare man, iron-grey hair brushed neatly back, dressed in his familiar tweed suit and checked shirt, but the whole effect was slightly marred by the carpet slippers he was wearing with them. ‘Yes, it’s me, Daddy,’ she confirmed gently. ‘Where is Mrs Holt?’

      Her father looked slightly vague. ‘In the kitchen preparing lunch, I think. I—there appears to be someone at the door.’ A frown furrowed his brow as another knock sounded on the door. ‘I—that was quick.’ He smiled enquiringly as he spotted Nik standing just in front of the closed door. ‘How do you do, young man?’ He moved forward to hold out his hand to Nik. ‘I’m Jack Nixon.’

      Jinx was dismayed. Nik was an intelligent as well as astute man, and it wouldn’t take him too long to realize in exactly what way her father ‘wasn’t well’…

      ‘Nik Prince, sir,’ Nik returned respectfully as he shook the other man’s hand, a good thirty years younger than Jinx’s father. ‘I hope we’re not disturbing you?’

      ‘Not at all,’ the older man assured him. ‘We get so few visitors nowadays,’ he added wistfully. ‘Perhaps you would like to stay to lunch? I believe Mrs Holt said it’s chicken salad. I like chicken salad. Do you like chicken salad, young man?’

      Jinx felt her heart contract at her father’s childish pleasure in such a small thing as having chicken salad for lunch, her gaze instantly becoming guarded as Nik turned to her with a frown.

      ‘Mr Prince isn’t staying to lunch, Daddy,’ she was the one to answer quickly. ‘In fact, I believe he was just on his way…?’ She gave him a pointed glare.

      Nik’s expression was deliberately bland. ‘I’m not in any particular hurry,’ he said slowly.

      ‘Good. Good.’ Jinx’s father beamed, his blue eyes pale and watery now, lacking the sharp intelligence they had once had. ‘I’ll just go and tell Mrs Holt that there’s one extra for lunch.’ He shuffled off in the slightly overlarge carpet slippers.

      Silence followed his departure. Jinx was loath to look up at Nik and see the questioning look she was sure would be on his face, and Nik remained quietly patient as he waited for her to say something.

      But what could she say? Excuse my father, but he isn’t quite himself nowadays?

      Not quite himself! Her father had once been one of the foremost experts on Jacobite history in this country, had taught the subject for over forty years, was consulted by other learned minds as to his opinion on certain events.

      But that had been once…

      Nowadays her father seemed to have trouble remembering what day it was, let alone what year, and if he still had his knowledge of history then it was buried somewhere behind the vagueness of his expression.

      But how could she say any of that without having Nik feel sorry for her father?

      Because she didn’t want Nik to pity her father. Didn’t want anyone to pity him, when he had once been a man so respected and revered by his peers.

      ‘Jinx…?’

      Her head rose defensively as she finally looked up at Nik, her gaze challenging him to say anything that could be interpreted as pitying or—worse!—condescending.

      Whatever he said next had to be the right thing, Nik knew, or Jinx would cast him from her life and never see him again. And that, he realized, was totally unacceptable to him.

      Because of the movie he wanted to make of No Ordinary Boy?

      The movie didn’t even come into it! In fact, if he was honest, it hadn’t been a factor for some time now. Jinx was what mattered. And at this moment, the reporter outside apart, he was walking on very shaky ground where she was concerned…

      ‘What happened?’ he asked gently.

      ‘What makes you think something happened?’ If anything her chin rose even higher.

      But unless Nik was mistaken, the new brightness to her eyes was due to unshed tears and not the anger of a few minutes ago. ‘I—your father—’ He drew in a deep breath, very aware of that knife edge he was balanced upon. ‘Did he have a breakdown of some kind?’ He decided briskness was probably the way to go; pity he knew Jinx would totally reject, gentleness probably the same.

      ‘Of some kind,’ she admitted, every inch of her seeming to be covered in defensive prickles. ‘What are we going to do about the reporter and photographer outside?’ she abruptly changed the subject.

      Nik shrugged. ‘Have lunch with your father, and then see if they’re still there?’ He was pushing it, he knew, but he really did want to find out more about this situation than he knew now.

      Although just seeing Jinx’s father answered a lot of questions for him. There was no way that Jack Nixon could withstand the sort of publicity that would prevail if it were known that his daughter was the author of No Ordinary Boy. The press could be dogged, intrusive, stripping one’s life down to the bare bones, and still carry on looking for more. Nik had no doubts that Jack Nixon’s delicate mental health wouldn’t be able to cope with something like that.

      Something he was sure Jinx was all too aware of, too…

      ‘I have a better suggestion,’ she came back tartly now. ‘You leave, taking the reporter and photographer with you, and I’ll go and have lunch with my father!’

      Nik grimaced, having expected her to say something like that. And on the face of it, it must seem like the practical thing to do. Except that it had been Jinx the reporter and photographer had been following.

      Which meant they must have some idea that she was the author J. I. Watson.

      As far as he was aware only three people, possibly four, knew that Jinx was the author J. I. Watson: himself, Jane Morrow, James Stephens, and possibly James Stephens’s secretary, none of whom benefited in any way by revealing that information to the press.

      But, nevertheless, Nik was sure that the information had leaked out somehow.

      He just wasn’t sure it was a good idea to tell Jinx that just yet. She was already as jumpy as a cat, and furiously angry with him. If she thought that he was somehow responsible—!

      He smiled. ‘I think I like my plan better.’

      Her cheeks flushed angrily. ‘Well, that’s too СКАЧАТЬ