The Dating Mr Darcy Trilogy: Prada and Prejudice / Love and Liability / Mansfield Lark

“What is it?” she demanded in a low voice when Rhys left.

“You’re with Gordon, aren’t you?”

“No,” she lied. She glanced at the sitting room door. “What do you want?”

“You’re a crap liar, Natalie. Meet me for lunch tomorrow. I’ve reserved a table at Carrafini.”

“But someone might see us there! It’s just down the street. Besides, I’m meeting with Phillip at eleven, I can’t possibly—”

“Cancel it. Don’t put me off, Natalie. You didn’t return that fifty quid to the cash box yet, did you?”

She closed her eyes. She’d forgotten completely about the damned money she’d taken.

“I thought so. I’ll see you tomorrow, eleven-thirty. Don’t keep me waiting.” He rang off.

With shaking hands Natalie slipped the mobile back in her pocket. Oh God, oh God…what to do?

“Finished your call?” Rhys asked as he came back in.

She nodded. “Caro needed help with her new DVR player.”

He came behind her and took her in his arms. His breath was warm as he nuzzled her neck. “Stay tonight, Natalie.”

She closed her eyes as she imagined sharing Rhys’s bed. She felt safe in his arms, all her worries about Ian forgotten. She longed to spend tonight with him, God, yes…but Ian Clarkson had ruined the moment with his call.

“I can’t,” she said, and pulled away regretfully. “Nor can you. Tomorrow’s Monday, after all. Work.”

“Ah, yes, work.” He kissed her again, his mouth lingering on hers. “We’ve a lot to do tomorrow.” Rhys frowned. “Which reminds me…I meant to ask you something.”

She looked at him inquiringly. “Oh?”

His eyes met hers. “I had a drink in the Connaught the other night. I saw you at a table with Ian Clarkson. You had your heads together, looked very serious.”

Her thoughts raced. “We were discussing the website. He was put out that you tore it apart,” she added lightly.

“Indeed.” Rhys’s eyes narrowed. “Odd that he wanted to discuss it with you, and over drinks, don’t you think?”

“He…wanted an outside opinion. And he didn’t want any interruptions.”

“Natalie, you’re a crap liar. Why were you with Clarkson? He’s a slimy bastard. And he’s married to your best friend.”

“I told you, we were talking about the website—”

“That’s bollocks and we both know it,” he cut in. “I saw him touch you, I saw you flinch. What’s going on? What’s he got on you? Tell me.”

Her legs were unsteady as she walked across the kitchen to the hallway. “Got on me? Nothing! You’re imagining things.”

“Natalie, I want to help you, but I can’t unless you tell me the truth—”

“There’s nothing to tell! Tell Jamie thanks for dinner. It was really good, and I-I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She grabbed her handbag and hurried down the stairs as Rhys stormed after her.

“That was him just now, wasn’t it?” he demanded as she reached the front door. “It was Ian.”

“Rhys, please, let it go,” Natalie begged. “I can’t…it’s not—” She stopped, overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. “I have to go.” And she flung the door open and fled.

Chapter 28 (#ulink_ab6899c4-bde6-52fe-8da3-0106e2609e78)

As she returned to her car, Nat’s thoughts were in turmoil.

She hated being at Ian Clarkson’s mercy. And she hated lying to Rhys even more. She had to do something. But what?

First things first, she decided as she unlocked the Peugeot. She had to put that fifty quid back in the cash box before someone noticed it was missing…

“Natalie! Wait up.”

She looked up to see Jamie Gordon coming towards her. “Jamie! I didn’t expect to see you lurking around out here.”

“I didn’t expect to see you, either. I thought you’d be spending the night with Rhys.”

She was glad the darkness hid her blush. “Well, you needn’t worry, I’m not staying over.”

“Oh. Sorry. But not as sorry as Rhys, I imagine.” He raised an eyebrow. “Fancy a pint before last call? We didn’t get much of a chance to talk, before.”

“Well…OK. Sure. Orange squash for me, though,” she said as she re-locked the car. “I’m driving home.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, why aren’t you staying?” Jamie ventured when they’d seated themselves and he returned with their drinks. “I know it’s none of my business—”

“It’s OK.” She hesitated. “We had a row. There’s something I need to tell him, but…I can’t. I don’t know how he might react. His temper—”

“Yeah, he does have a temper,” Jamie admitted, and sipped his lager. “Our dad drank, a lot. Some people drink and get happy. But whiskey only made the old man mean. He was hit head-on by a lorry one night, walking home from the pub. For some reason, he was walking in the road. The lorry driver didn’t see him until it was too late. Killed dad instantly.”

Natalie looked at him in mingled shock and dismay. “How awful! I’m sorry.”

Jamie shrugged. “Trust me, it was the best thing that could’ve happened. He couldn’t beat our mam any longer.”

Her eyes widened. “Did he ever hit you or Rhys?”

“He had a go at Rhys once. Rhys knocked him down and pummeled him until mum and one of the neighbours dragged him off. That’s how his nose got broken.” He glanced at her. “Told you it was an old football injury, did he?”

Natalie nodded slowly. That was exactly what he’d said.

“Rhys lets off steam on the squash court. And he has a right temper. But there’s no one I’d rather have in my corner.”

“He said he left home at seventeen.”

“Yeah, after dad died, he got a job in Hoxton. He busted his ass to support us; dad was always skint. Mum and me wouldn’t have made it without the money Rhys sent home. He put me through culinary school.” Jamie drained his beer. “He’s an arsehole sometimes. But he’s always had my back.”