The Princess and the Outlaw

“Will clean for books?” he said.

She smiled and met his gaze. “Something like that.”

He held her gaze for a long moment and saw the second that her awareness of him hit her. Breaking the visual connection, she cleared her throat. “Well, I should get back to work.”

“Anything special you want me to do?”

“Mop the floors if you don’t mind. I’ve already dusted the entire house, but haven’t touched the guest quarters outside. I think it would also be a good idea for you to assess the arrangement of the furniture throughout the house for any special needs your parents may have, such as your father’s foot problem. We don’t want him tripping and prolonging his recovery.”

“I don’t know. It might be a good thing if my father is immobile. He could cause trouble when he’s full strength,” Nic said. “He’s always been a rebellious, impulsive man. I hate to say it, but he might just take a trip out of the house so he can feel like he’s flying in the face of your family.”

Pippa winced. “He wouldn’t admit his name, would he?”

“I hope not. That’s part of the reason I wasn’t sure this was a good idea,” he said.

“What made you change your mind?”

“You did. My father will be okay if he’s reminded that his responsibility is to make this time for my mother as trouble-free as possible. I’ll make sure he gets that message in multiple modalities every day.”

“Thank you very much,” she said.

“If you’re so terrified that your family will find out, why did you take this risk for yourself? Your relationship with your brothers and sisters will never be the same if they know you did this.”

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a half beat as if to bolster her determination. “I hate the idea of disappointing my brothers and sisters. I hate it more than you can imagine, but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I could help your mother with this one wish if I had the ability. And I have the ability.”

“I’ll do what I can to make sure the rest of the Devereauxs don’t find out. I haven’t told my mother yet about the cottage. She’s going to be very excited.”

Pippa smiled. “I hope so.”

“Thanks,” he said. “I’ll go check out the bedrooms.”

An hour later, after Pippa finished vacuuming and tackled the kitchen, she found Nic cleaning the hall bathroom. It was an ironic sight. Hot six-foot-four international businessman scrubbing the tub. Just as he wouldn’t expect to find her turn into a cleaning machine, she wouldn’t expect the same of him, either. She couldn’t help admiring the way his broad shoulders followed the shape of a V to his waist. Even in a T-shirt, the man looked great from behind. Bloody shame for her. Get your mind out of the gutter.

He turned around before she had a chance to clear her throat or utter a syllable. She stared at him speechless for a second, fearing he could read her mind. Not possible, she told herself as she felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

In too many ways, she thought, but refused to dwell on them. “I’m almost finished with the kitchen, and it occurred to me that it might be a good idea to arrange for some groceries to be picked up for your parents before they arrive.”

“Groceries?” he echoed.

“Yes, I was hoping you could help with a list.”

He made a face. “I don’t do a lot of grocery shopping. My housekeeper takes care of that.”

“I have less experience with grocery shopping that I do with cleaning. That’s why I thought we could send someone.”

“Who can we trust?” he asked.

She winced. “Excellent point.”

“After we move them in, I’ll just arrange for a member of my staff from the yacht to take care of house and shopping duties,” he said. “But unless we want to delay their move-in, it looks like we’ll need to do the initial run ourselves.”

“We?” she squeaked.

“I didn’t think it would be nice to ask you to do it by yourself,” he said.

But it had clearly crossed his mind. She frowned.

“Will that put you a little close for comfort to the plebeians?”

“No,” she told him, detesting the superior challenging expression on his face. “I was just trying to remember if I’d left my cap in my vehicle.”

“I have an extra,” he said. “I’ll take you in my car.”

“What about the list?”

“We’ll wing it,” he said.

Moments later, she grabbed her cap from her car and perched her oversize sunglasses on her nose. She didn’t bother to look at her reflection. After spending the afternoon cleaning, she knew she didn’t look like anyone’s idea of a princess. Nic opened the passenger door for her and she slid into his car.

After he climbed into the driver’s side, the space inside his Mercedes seemed to shrink. She inhaled to compensate for the way her lungs seemed to narrow at Nic’s proximity, but only succeeded in drawing in a draft of the combination of his masculine scent and subtle but sexy cologne. He pulled out of the driveway.

“Which way to the nearest market?” he asked.

Pippa blinked. She had no idea.

“Here,” he said, handing her his phone. “Find one on my smartphone.”

It took a couple moments, and Nic had to backtrack, but they were moving in the right direction.

“I’m thinking eggs, milk, bread and perhaps some fruit,” she said, associating each item with one of her fingers. It was a memory trick she’d taught herself when she was young. The only problem was when she ran out of fingers.

“Chocolate, cookies and wine,” Nic added. “A bakery cake if we can find it. My mother’s priority for eating healthy went down the tubes after her last appointment with the doctor. My dad will want booze and carbs. His idea of health food is a pork roast with a loaded baked potato.”

“Oh, my,” she said, trying to wrap her head around Nic’s list versus hers. “I hope we can find—”

“They’ll be happy with whatever we get for the first twenty-four hours,” Nic said as he pulled into the parking lot. “Let’s just do this fast,” he added and pulled on a ball cap of his own. “The faster we move, the less chance you have of being discovered.”

“I think I’m well-disguised,” she said as he opened the door and helped her out of the car.

“Until you open your mouth,” he said.

“What do you mean by that?”

He led her toward the door of the market. “I mean you have a refined, distinctive voice, PD. A combination of husky sweet and so proper you could have been in Regency England.”

“PD,” she echoed, then realized PD stood for Pippa Devereaux. “Well, at least I look ordinary,” she huffed.