Nick and Lilac (17 page)

Lilac didn’t smile either, didn’t even look at him, but she didn’t pull away, savoring the feel of being in contact with Nick for the rest of the ride.

When they reached her home, she looked at Nick to say good night and caught him staring at her broodingly. “Something is wrong,” she said carefully, worriedly.

He shook his head, leaned forward and pressed a kiss on her nose. “Something is right.” He pulled back. “This friendship…the two of us…this is right.”

Before she could answer, he had already stepped out of the car and was going around it to open the door for her. She let him assist her out of the car. “Nick.” She was very, very worried now, and the fact that she couldn’t explain why she was so worried her even more.

“Lilac.” His tone was teasing, but his eyes were carefully hooded.

Her anxiety increased. “Tell me---” Words failed her, and Lilac stared at Nick miserably.

Nick didn’t meet her gaze. “I need to fly to California tomorrow.”

Her heartbeat raced in an unpleasant way, nightmares chasing the stallions that held the reins to her heart. “Karla?”

Nick stiffened.

“I read…the tabloids. I know…she’s there.”

“You should know better than to read the tabloids.”

“It’s because…I didn’t read them…I didn’t know…about Jason.”

“And so if you knew about him, you would have chosen Jason because he’s the better Christakos?”

Her lips parted in shock at his virulent tone. “
Nick
?”

She heard him mutter something in Greek and then he was hauling her into his arms, his crushing embrace threatening to crack her ribs. But she did not protest, did not move. She instinctively knew that he needed to hold her.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered just before leaning back to look into her eyes, as if wanting Lilac to see that he meant the words. Before she could answer, he was raining kisses on her face. “I’m sorry.” He said the words over and over.

The tension gradually left her body, but her heart was still unsettled. “Tell me…please.” She laid her head against his chest, listening to his volatile heartbeat. “What’s…wrong?”

But instead, all Nick said was, “You need to tell me yes soon.”

She shivered at the urgency in his voice.

“Soon, sweetheart,” Nick gritted.

Slowly, she nodded.

Nick lifted her face, seeking her lips, which parted of its own accord. “Still friends?”

She nodded.

He pulled away, caressing her cheek, asking hoarsely, “Still no regrets?”

“No…regrets.”

Nick twined his fingers with hers, and she did the same with his other hand. But when she smiled at Nick, he didn’t return it

****

Lilac’s steps slowed down when she finally spied Jason Christakos the next day, standing next to a well-known jeweler’s shop, his back to her. He was completely in black, but still another polo-and-jeans combination. It made her smile, this complete contrasting characteristic with Nick – and she suspected it wasn’t even intentional.

Jason turned around, allowing him to catch the dreamy smile on Lilac York’s face. The sight of it did something to him, but his handsome face revealed not a hint of it as he walked to Lilac. In his mind, he was seeing a fourteen-year-old girl who had been defenseless against the exploitative machinations of James Caruthers. And behind that thought was the warning Mark issued after handing him the report on Lilac, the words lingering on Jason’s mind even if he didn’t want them there.

This girl means a lot to Nick. It’s going to be messy if you pursue this.

Mark meant well, but he didn’t understand a lot of things, didn’t see that it was too late. It was all messed up already.

“Hello again, Lilac,” he said with a smile when he reached her. She was, once again, dressed in horrendous clothes. Today, it was an orange shirt and dark blue overalls that had seen better days.

Lilac smiled back, and triumph made his heart beat a little faster. He knew from the report that Lilac smiling back at a man was a rare occurrence. In fact, if the report was to be believed – after James Caruthers, the only other man to accomplish this was…Nick.

Jason pushed the thought away.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice.” Jason’s light charming voice was so like and unlike Nick’s, the mix of similarity and contrast in it fascinating her so much Lilac could listen to Jason’s voice the whole time and not get tired of it.

“I’m just...glad to…help.”

“You look beautiful, by the way.”

Lilac didn’t take Jason’s words seriously. Last night was more than enough to let her know that Nick’s brother knew his way around words very well. Eyes twinkling, she returned solemnly, “You…too.”

He laughed out loud, so unlike Nick’s typically guarded response that it had her blinking in wonder.

When he recovered from being so unexpectedly complimented, Jason found Lilac blinking at him in apparent surprise. His heartbeat thundered at the sight of it.
Shit.
So this was what Nick meant about her blinking. It made Lilac look like the most exquisite doll, like those fake human Barbie photos scattered all over the Internet – only this time it was real.

Clearing his throat, he glanced at the window display filled with the most stunning collection of pearl necklaces. “Shall we go?”

She nodded.

He opened the door for her, and Lilac gingerly walked past him, a little intimidated at the fact that this was her first time to enter a jewelry store with a man other than her father. The interior was tasteful and elegant, its hushed environment only serving to emphasize the kind of clientele it catered to.

A smiling middle-aged gentleman went forward, offering them his hand to shake. “Good morning, Mr. Christakos, ma’am.” His gaze was curious when it went to Lilac, obviously waiting for her to introduce herself.

She could only smile, unsure of the politically correct thing to do.

Realizing that Lilac was disinclined to speak, the manager said easily, “I’m Wally, the manager of
Lux
.”

“I’m looking for a birthday gift for my mother and I brought backup to help me choose,” Jason explained. He nodded towards Lilac with a smile.

“Oh, I see. We’re quite honored you’ve chosen our store. This way, please. We’ve several new designs that might please you.”

Lilac was startled when she felt Jason’s hand on the small of her back, but she relaxed when it was only to guide her forward and follow the store manager into an inner room.

Her lips parted in wonder when she found herself in what seemed like Aladdin’s cave of treasures, with jewels upon jewels beautifully staged on various settings but without any glass enclosures. The incandescent lighting overhead brought their sparkling colors to life, and the carpet-covered walls only added to its luxurious atmosphere.

Wally gestured to a pair of padded bar seats with velvet backs and armrests. “Please make yourselves comfortable. Mr. Christakos, I’ll have your usual coffee served?”

“Yes, that would be great. Thanks.”

“Ma’am?” Wally turned to Lilac. “We also serve tea, soda, and wine as well as a nice selection of cakes.”

“Tea…is fine.” She chose her words with even greater care.

When Wally excused himself to buzz their orders, she bent close to Jason, whispering, “This place…is intimidating.”

“Don’t be intimidated,” Jason said swiftly. “Just think of it as a place where we can buy girly stuff.”

She couldn’t help giggling at that. “Price tags say…thousands of dollars.” She rolled her eyes. “And you say…they’re just…
girly stuff
?”

“To a guy, this is considered girly.” But he was smiling, finding Lilac’s innocent amusement contagious.

Wally came back with their drinks, coffee and tea served with plates of what smelled like freshly baked macaroons of assorted flavors. Her mouth watered. “Oh…wow.”

Wally’s smile was a little smug. “We have one of the city’s best French pastry chefs working for us, if I may say so myself.”

She took a bite of the pink colored macaroon, which turned out to be strawberry flavored mixed with a little cream cheese. Lilac wanted to swoon.

She paced back and forth slowly, the hem of her dark cape brushing against the well-polished floors of St. Francis’ Bakery. It was not at all a respectable thing to do for a Lady to visit a bakery on her own for this was servant’s work. Hence her disguise: a plain back gown under a woolen cape, its large hood hiding her face in the shadows, and the early departure from her home, with dawn breaking just this very moment, painting the skies with streaks of lavender, topaz, and indigo.

Mr. Forsythe smothered a laugh at the look of concentration on the lady’s face as her mesmerized gaze took in the rows upon rows of flavored tarts in front her.

“What’s wrong, milady?”

She gave the baker a sheepish smile. “I am sorry if I am taking so long with my orders, Mr. Forsythe. It is just because I can’t decide---”

“Which flavors you would like to order?” Behind the lady, the baker watched the door open and the marquis, another favored guest, walk in silently. When he saw that he was not the only customer – and that the other one was a lady – the marquis raised a brow at him.

The lady in question sighed morosely. “I’m afraid not. What I can’t decide is how much of my pin money I would like to spend on this. ‘Tis the absolute truth, Mr. Forsythe, but I would truly rather spend my pin money on your tarts rather than another silly dress or bonnet!”

Mr. Forsythe’s laughter made her wrinkle her nose in disgruntlement, but she nearly jumped in shock when a voice from behind said, “Allow me to help you out with your predicament, milady.”

For a moment, her mind was filled with shock. A sense of déjà vu also struck her, reminding her of that one day a gentleman had “helped” her - and that one also started by speaking to her from the back, without an introduction. And look where that had landed her, she thought with a helpless mixture of love and resentment.

Slowly, she whirled around.

Unsure of the ways of the Ton, Mr. Forsythe fumbled over the words as he said, “Err, milady, may I introduce you to the Marquis of Devonwood? He has just come back from the Continent.”

Reluctantly, she raised her eyes up, up, and up – and her lips parted in astonishment when she saw that the gentleman bore an uncanny resemblance to the duke. It was not just because he was tall, dark-haired and with equally bright blue eyes. Everything – the way he stood and looked at her with a gleam of interest in his eyes – reminded her of the duke, too.

“Milord, it is, err, my greatest honor to present to you Lady Lilia.” Mr. Forsythe paused, not knowing what else to say, for he was not a damnable butler able to cite by rote the entire genealogy of peers of the realm.

“My good man, if you will, I would like to purchase three dozen of your pastries and have it delivered to the lady’s address on my account.” He saw the wide-eyed look of surprise of the lady, and he, too, was surprised at the way such a look made him feel…different.

“You cannot---” she began protesting but the marquis cut her off with one raised eyebrow. She sputtered at the look.

“It is my gift,” he said solemnly. “My way of solving your troubles for now you can use your pin money on all the silly dresses you must buy.”

She said stiffly, “I cannot accept such a gift. I do not know you at all, sir.”

“Oh, but you already do. As Mr. Forsythe has said, I am the Marquis of Devonwood.”

She muttered under her breath, the words of which he caught easily – and stunned him. “Did you say---” he asked slowly, “---something about the Duke of Ridgeway?”

“And if I did?” She paused then added reluctantly, “---my lord?”

“Then you would be right in thinking that we have many a thing in common.” His gaze now intense, he looked at her from head to toe.

She muttered under her breath again and once more he easily cottoned on to her words. His lips twitched. “No, milady – it is more than birds possessing the same damnable feather.” His eyes danced with wicked amusement at the look of mortification on the young girl’s face, having been caught cursing. “You see, my beautiful girl, the duke and I are related by blood.”

She gasped.

“We are first cousins, raised together from birth. Many say,” the marquis murmured almost apologetically, “we are so alike we may pass off as twins.” He stepped forward. “And it seems now, we have another thing in common.”

“Another thing in common?” she echoed in bemusement.

“Yes,” he agreed. “And that would be our taste in women.”

It took her more than a moment to comprehend what the meaningful look the marquis directed at her meant, and when the knowledge sank in, she gasped and stepped back.