Save The Date!: The Rebel and the Heiress / Not Just a Convenient Marriage / Crown Prince, Pregnant Bride

She folded her arms. ‘Which is?’

Just for a moment his gaze lowered to her lips. Her breath stuttered. Oh, he couldn’t mean...?

They both snapped away from each other at the same time.

‘That you provide me with half a dozen cupcakes a day. A working man needs to keep up his strength.’

She planted her hands to her hips. ‘Rick, you can’t eat six cupcakes a day. You’ll rot your teeth and make yourself sick.’ She stuck out her jaw. ‘How about two cupcakes a day and I’ll throw in some sandwiches?’

‘Four cupcakes and some sandwiches.’

Did he eat properly? Tash was probably taking care of that at the moment. How was he off for money? Not that she could talk, but she was making enough to cover the food bill and she still had some in her savings account, which would cover the cost of paint and materials. Sure, he might be getting rent-free accommodation, but he wouldn’t be earning while he was here. She blew out a breath. ‘And I’ll throw in a Sunday roast.’

‘Now you’re talking.’

‘C’mon.’ She led him back into the kitchen. Taking a seat at the table, she dragged a notepad towards her and wrote out a brief contract outlining what they’d agreed to. She signed it and then pushed it across to him.

‘You think this necessary?’

‘I’ve learned not to take chances.’

His eyes darkened. ‘You’re prepared to trust me with your Gran’s jewels, but not take my word about our deal?’

‘I told you already—I don’t believe you’re a thief.’ She glared because he made her feel self-conscious. ‘It doesn’t necessarily follow, though, that I trust you.’

* * *

Rick’s heart burned for her, mourned that wide-eyed little girl who’d smiled at him with such open-heartedness it had made him believe there were better things in the world than he’d experienced up to that point.

‘That sounds like hard-won wisdom, Princess.’

She didn’t answer. He signed her contract because he wanted her to trust him. For good or ill.

‘You’ve changed, Princess. A lot.’

She snorted. ‘You mean I’m not fat any more?’

‘Don’t use that word!’ His voice came out sharper than he intended, but he couldn’t help it. Reverberating through his head, all he could hear were insults—You’re a fat piece of useless lard! How could anyone love you? You’re fat and ugly! Horrible things flung at women by men who’d meant to wound.

Nell eyed him warily. He glared at her. ‘You were never fat!’

Her gaze slid sideways. She lifted a shoulder. ‘I was plump, and I was awkward and almost chronically shy.’

Those things were true. ‘I always thought you were kind of cute.’

That made her look back at him. She tried to hide it, but he could tell she wanted to believe him. ‘If that’s the case,’ she said eventually, ‘then you were in the minority.’

He still thought her cute, but he had no intention of acting on it. She was still trouble. And he avoided trouble wherever he could. And power games. And complications. He pushed his shoulders back. ‘So how’d you go from shy and awkward to polished and sophisticated?’

She waved that away. ‘It’s too boring for words.’

Her reluctance intrigued him. ‘I’d like to know.’

She blew out a breath before jumping up to put coffee on to percolate. He was about to tell her she drank too much caffeine but then she proceeded to set out some of her extraordinary cupcakes and he decided to keep his trap shut.

‘Blueberry Delight and Tutti-Frutti,’ she said, pointing. She made coffee and sat again.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Well?’

‘As you’ve probably gathered, I wasn’t precisely the kind of child my parents had been hoping for.’ She blew on her coffee. ‘They’d hoped for some pretty, delicate little thing who did ballet and uttered childish whimsies that charmed everyone.’

He winced. Nell hadn’t fitted that picture.

‘When I became a teenager, my mother hoped I’d become a fashion plate who’d be eager to accompany her on her many shopping expeditions.’

‘And your father?’

‘Who knows? He’d have probably been happy if his golf buddies made comments about me becoming a heartbreaker and that he’d have to beat the boys away with a big stick.’

Did she know that was exactly how she could be described now?

‘When my grandmother found out how miserable I was she set about helping me.’

‘How?’

‘She took me to a therapist who helped me overcome my shyness. She took me to a stylist who trained me in what clothes and make-up best suited me, and she found me an up-and-coming young hairdresser who was an absolute whizz.’ She sipped her coffee. ‘Obviously, it didn’t all happen overnight.’

Rick unclenched a hand to reach for a cupcake. ‘You know your parents were wrong to have such expectations?’ They should both be horsewhipped for making her feel like a failure, because she hadn’t met their specific designer mould. People like that shouldn’t have kids.

‘I do now.’

He took a savage bite of cake and frosting. ‘I mean, would you ever do that to a kid?’

Her eyes flashed. ‘No!’

He set the cupcake back on his plate and eyed her for a long moment. ‘Why all this determination to avoid self-pity?’

Something inside her eyes hardened. ‘Because, regardless of my gripes about my parents, I never had it as tough as you or Tash or even Crazy Cheryl who you went to prison for.’ She gave a half smile. ‘Cheryl used to throw stones at me whenever she saw me in the garden.’

It didn’t surprise him. Cheryl’s home life had been beyond shocking. But...there was more than one way to damage a kid.

‘It’s not a contest, Princess.’ She was entitled to her pain and disappointment.

‘Tell that to my parents.’

Exhaustion hit him at the expression on her face. ‘It didn’t work, did it?’ He slumped back. ‘Did they notice at all?’

‘They noticed. It just took me a long time to realise that it didn’t make any difference, that it didn’t make them love me more. It just meant they didn’t mind parading me around their friends so much.’