‘Ah, Liza.’ Anna spoke. ‘You look lovely.’
Recovering her shattered poise, Liza glanced around. Anna and her mother were seated on matching armchairs, leaving only the sofa free. ‘Thank you,’ she mumbled, making for the sofa and sitting down before her trembling legs betrayed her.
‘Niculoso.’ Anna addressed her son. ‘Doesn’t Liza look lovely?’
Liza lifted guarded eyes to where Nick stood by the drinks trolley. His hard dark gaze slid insolently over her, lingering for a moment on the exposed curve of her breasts before meeting hers.
‘Liza.’ No ‘hello’—just the briefest inclination of his proud head. ‘Yes, you do look beautiful.’ And he stared at her so coolly she knew the compliment was for his mother’s benefit, not hers. ‘Would you like a drink? A white wine?’
‘Yes,’ Liza husked, and watched as he filled a glass with sparkling wine, looking so cold and remote that her heart sank. Then in one lithe stride he was in front of her, holding out the glass; she took it and the brush of his fingers against hers made her hand tremble.
Liza murmured, ‘Thank you,’ and then, gathering up what little courage she had, she added quietly, ‘I would like to talk to you, Nick.’ Her mother and Anna had started reminiscing yet again and it might be the only chance she had.
Lowering his long length onto the sofa beside her, his thigh inches away from her own, he relaxed back against the cushions. ‘So talk.’
‘I want to apologise for—’ she began her speech.
‘Apology accepted for whatever…’ he replied curtly with a dismissive wave of one elegant hand. ‘Drop the subject; it is no longer of any interest to me.’
In other words, Liza realised dismally, she was no longer of any interest to him.
Dinner was a disaster. Nick was charming to Pamela and Anna, but every time he spoke to Liza he was polite and even smiling, but the smile never reached his eyes.
Liza was relieved when the meal was over and they returned to the sitting room for a nightcap, but not for long. Within minutes her mother and Anna declared their intention of going to bed, and Anna’s parting comment made Liza blush scarlet with embarrassment.
‘Nick, you’d better stay the night—you have had far too much to drink and drive. Liza, I am depending on you to make sure he doesn’t have any more.’
Nick laughed out loud at his mother’s comment. ‘I can look after myself, Mamma. Goodnight.’
‘I don’t think that was very funny,’ Liza commented as soon as the two older women left the room. ‘Your mother is worried about you.’
Nick stared down at where Liza sat, looking coolly beautiful and infinitely desirable, and he was filled with an all-consuming anger. She had turned his life inside-out, filled him with feelings he had never thought existed. He had spent the last few weeks driving himself crazy over her. He couldn’t sleep or work for thinking about her. He was drinking far too much, risking far too much, and it was all her fault. Yet she sat there looking so exquisite, so calm, as if she had never had a sleepless night in her life, and so bloody sanctimonious, when he knew she could not give a fig if he broke his neck. He wanted to throttle her, but even more he wanted to lose himself in the wondrous, welcoming heat of her delectable body.
But nothing of his angry thoughts showed on his starkly handsome face as he replied, ‘I thought you English were fond of irony. Does it not strike you as laughable that my mother should request you to monitor my drinking, when the last time we met you damn near killed me?’
‘I said I was sorry. I want to apologise for all the awful things I said.’ Liza began her speech again, horribly embarrassed and desperately ashamed of her own actions but trying to stay cool. She had to do this; she owed him big time. ‘Also I want to thank you…’
Nick looked at her with hard, assessing eyes. No way was she getting away with a simple apology, not after the strain she had put him through; his pride alone would not let him accept it.
‘You want to thank me,’ he drawled mockingly. Their eyes met and she cringed under the savage intensity of his gaze. ‘Then feel free.’ His autocratic face hardened in a smile of masterly cynicism. ‘But as another drink is not an option I am going to my room; you know where it is.’ And with that parting shot he walked out. Nick strode along the hall, a deep frown marring his handsome face.
He had never felt so relieved when the police informed him that Liza was totally innocent. At least the scumbag Brown had had the decency to exonerate her. Not that Nick had ever doubted it really, but it meant she was free on her own merit, rather than all the strings he had had to pull to get her back to London.
He should have been happy seeing her again, but instead he had been furiously angry, and now unless she came to his room, which was highly unlikely, he had blown it again.
At first Liza was shocked into immobility, and simply sat on the sofa staring at the closed door. He had walked out on her and never even said goodnight. How could he be so rude? Then she realised how dumb she was being. Nick was a proud man. He had spent his time, and money, according to Mr Stubbs, rescuing her from the folly of her own actions, and she had fought Nick every step of the way, even to hitting him, while quite blatantly enjoying his body.
He was entitled to be offhand. What had she expected—that he would welcome her with open arms, and say all was forgiven, and declare his undying love? In her dreams maybe. But in reality it was up to her to make him listen and beg his forgiveness. She had read him so wrongly.
Her mind made up, Liza slowly got to her feet. Nick had laid down the gauntlet, and she had a quizzical notion, a bit like a knight of old, and it was up to her to take it up.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THERE were butterflies in Liza’s stomach as she reached for the door handle and, turning it, she walked in. It was a large room, and two bedside lamps illuminated a huge bed. Liza swallowed hard and stepped forward, her gaze swinging around to where a fireplace dominated one wall; the fire was lit and cast haunting shadows on the plain white walls.
Nick was standing by the window, his back towards her; he had shed his jacket and she recognised the fierce tension in his wide, taut shoulders.
‘Nick.’ She murmured his name and stopped a few feet away.