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It was a grand old estate, and on the slim funds Hamish had had to play with he’d worked miracles. ‘I’m impressed,’ Chico admitted, remembering that he had done something very similar himself in Brazil.
‘This is a lifetime’s work.’
‘And you could use some help,’ Chico suggested.
‘It wouldn’t go amiss,’ Hamish agreed gruffly as they shook hands. ‘Will we be seeing you tomorrow?’
‘I expect so.’ This was a man with whom he was already forming a firm bond of respect, Chico acknowledged, but he wasn’t ready to reveal his plans to anyone yet.
‘That’s good,’ Hamish said, shooting him the straight look he might give to a man in whom Hamish believed he could place his trust.
* * *
Biting her lip so it hurt enough to stop her crying when she thought about all the kind words for her grandmother, Lizzie closed the door on the last of their guests. Leaning back with her eyes tightly shut, she closed her heart too. Where was Chico? And why was she wasting even more time caring about a man who was probably on his way back to Brazil by now?
Walking into the library, she opened the desk drawer where Annie had put the letter from the bank. Bringing it out, she read it again to be sure there was no mistake. She had also found a stash of unopened bills in her grandmother’s dressing table that had lain untouched since her grandmother had been taken ill. The letter from the bank was quite specific. The last of the ponies and the livestock would go, and then the land would be parcelled up, and the house sold off. Everything Lizzie’s grandmother had worked so hard to build up would be torn down and sold off for a fraction of its value. She would have to let the staff go—tell them the estate was going to be sold, and they would have to make other plans. She had a few personal trinkets to sell, and she would share that money between the tenants and staff. It was a derisory amount for generations of loyalty, but it was all she could do for them.
‘Am I interrupting?’
‘Chico? I thought you’d gone.’ She gulped in a breath as her heart went crazy with shock.
‘Annie gave me the keys.’ He held them up. ‘I hope you don’t mind. I didn’t think you should be alone tonight.’
‘I told you before. I’m fine,’ she insisted.
‘Will you stop saying you’re fine, when it’s clear to me that you’re anything but fine?’
He tossed the keys in a dish by the door and walked towards her, shedding his scarf and jacket along the way. He’d already taken off the tie he’d worn earlier, and his shirt had a few buttons undone at the neck.
‘You look tired too,’ she said as he came closer.
‘Me?’ Chico’s smile was slow, and now he was standing close enough for her to detect his clean spicy scent, and the chill of the winter air on his face. She was surprised to feel a frisson of awareness pass between them even now when she was at her lowest ebb.
‘I think it’s time for you to go to bed. It’s been a long day for you, Lizzie.’
Surely, he didn’t mean with him? She glanced at the door, wondering how to politely broach the subject of him leaving. She couldn’t take any false dawns today. It would be the best thing ever to sleep with Chico, and have his comfort throughout the night, but not when morning came and she was alone again.
‘Do you want me to carry you upstairs?’ he offered, trying to inject a little lightness into her gloomy thoughts.
‘No. But thank you.’ What irony, when she had never needed the reassurance of Chico’s arms more, but if she gave in to this yearning and he returned to Brazil, she would feel doubly deserted.
‘But I insist,’ he said. Before she could protest, Chico had swept her off her feet and carried her out of the library, and straight upstairs to the bathroom adjoining her bedroom.
‘I’m going to run a bath for you,’ he said, setting her down on a chair in the corner, ‘but first I’m going to wash the tears from your face.’
‘Tears?’ Her hand flew to her face. Chico gently brought it down again.
He ran the water until it was warm, and then soaked a flannel, wringing it out before wiping her face.
‘You don’t have to do that.’
‘But I want to,’ he said, making a thorough job of it. ‘You need to let go of everything and just relax now, Lizzie.’
But not too much, she thought, watching as Chico squeezed toothpaste onto her brush. ‘You’ve changed,’ she said softly.
‘Me? Changed?’ His lips pressed down wryly. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Oh, yes, I’m sure,’ she said confidently. ‘You can feel again. You can look into my eyes and feel what I feel, and then reach out to me. We used to share things, Chico, but you were always guarded.’
‘And now I’m not?’
‘No, you’re not,’ she said with conviction. ‘Maybe in business you have to be careful, but you’re not careful with me when you express your feelings. Just now when you wiped my face—you’re either an amazing actor, or you really care.’
‘I really care,’ Chico said slowly and deliberately.
‘Yes. I believe you do.’
‘You take a bath,’ he said, straightening up and adopting a matter-of-fact manner. ‘I’m going to leave you now, but I’ll be within shouting distance, if you need me.’
‘There’s a bedroom next door.’ It was all made up in case guests had wanted to stay. ‘You’re quite welcome...’ Her voice tailed away. She had no idea what Chico intended.
‘I’ll be back,’ he promised. ‘Take your bath, then get into your nightclothes and I’ll tuck you into bed.’
That sounded like heaven, Lizzie thought. Now she was no longer on show, exhaustion was sweeping over her in big, drowning waves.
She bathed, dried herself and got into her pyjamas on autopilot. She was practically asleep by the time she was ready to climb into bed.
‘Oh, hello,’ she said with surprise, seeing Chico had already made himself comfortable on the opposite side of her bed.
‘I hope you don’t mind,’ he said, shooting her a wry look, ‘but in the absence of night attire, I’m wearing my boxers.’
‘Mind?’ she said vaguely. Why should she mind him wearing boxers? Wasn’t the fact that he was in her bed more alarming? Maybe, but she was beat and didn’t have the energy to fight him. ‘So long as you’re not naked,’ she mumbled. Even speaking was an effort now.
‘I’m not naked, so come here. I want to sleep with you.’
First hurdles first, Lizzie concluded. Could she get into bed without touching him? Her throat dried as she watched Chico’s impressive muscles flexing as he shifted position to make room for her on the bed. Hadn’t he listened to a single word she’d said? She was tired—exhausted—and badly in need of not being hurt.
‘Lizzie...’
As Chico held out his hand she hesitated, and then climbed in, or, more accurately, she sank boneless with exhaustion into the bed at his side. She tensed briefly when Chico put his arms around her and drew her close, but he felt so good, so safe and warm, and she was so very tired...
‘Sleep,’ he murmured, stroking the hair back from her brow.
‘You really mean it,’ she managed groggily as her eyelids grew impossibly heavy. ‘You really want to sleep with me.’
‘Of course I want to sleep with you. I love you, Lizzie Fane.’
Was that a dream, or had Chico really said that? It was the last thing she remembered until she woke up at dawn.
* * *
Was this a dream? If it was a dream, it was the best dream ever. It was a comfortable, sleepy dream that comprised of nothing but sensation. And what sensation...
