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Shaking off her disappointment, Giulia placed everything back where it belonged and climbed back into bed. It only took a few minutes for her to get back out, throw on her dressing gown and sneak downstairs for a lemon tart. If ever there was a time that she needed a sweet and tangy treat to wash away her woes, it was now.
When she opened the kitchen door to find Nick sitting at the work table in the center of the room, licking his fingers, she felt her blood rise in temperature a degree or two. Now that she was free from obligation to Ames, would things shift between her and Nick? The possibility was frightening.
He glanced up and halted when their eyes made contact, his thumb halfway in his mouth and his eyes round with surprise. She watched as his expression turned sheepish and she knew from that and the empty plate beside him that Nick had eaten every last tart. Spinning on her heel, she turned to go right back upstairs.
“No, wait!” Nick called, his voice sounding garbled. Oh, yes, he must still be chewing on her tart. “Jules, come back!”
She halted halfway up the stairs and he collided into her, sending her down hard onto a step. He immediately reached for her arm to pull her back up and she yanked it from his grip, smoothing down her dressing gown as she stood. “Do not call me that, only my friends may call me that.”
She knew she was being childish, but she did not care.
“Of course,” he said, irritation coloring his own tone. His eyes flashed. “Now that Ames is here you have no further use for me, is that correct?”
She glared down at him from where she stood a few steps higher. Her own chest heaving, she studied Nick’s guarded expression. He was irritated, clearly, and trying to hide the depth of his feelings. But she did not have the strength for an argument. “Ugh!” Throwing her hands up in the air she spun around again and began making her way up the stairs. She had no time for games.
“Jul—Giulia, wait!”
“What?” she all but yelled, spinning around and glaring at him. Anger and sorrow and frustration warred within her, and she vented them all on Nick with a single word.
“Forgive me for finishing the lemon tarts,” he said. “It is so late, I assumed you’d already eaten what you wanted for tonight. If I’d had any idea you were coming down, I would not have touched your tarts.”
She glared at him. She was being irrational, and she knew it, but she did not care. They were her tarts! Hers! He could have eaten something else. There was probably something more manly somewhere in that kitchen for him. A leg of ham, or a chunk of cheese. But the tarts? Those were hers.
“I see that you are still upset,” he began, cautiously.
“Of course I’m upset,” she said through gritted teeth. “I travel all the way down to the kitchen in search of the one thing, the onething that I want to soothe my aching heart, which Cook makes and sets aside especially for me, and come to find them gone.” She tried to ignore the way Nick was appraising her. No, she had not gone mad, thank you kindly.
He spoke softly, his words slow. “I have a feeling this may be about something more than the tarts, do you perhaps—”
“What else could it possibly be about, Nick?” she snapped. “Have you eaten something else of mine as well?”
Amusement danced in his eyes, and the smile that spread across his lips was contagious. She had to fight hard not to mirror it.
“Why don’t you come back down to the kitchen and let me make you some tea?”
“I don’t want tea. I want tarts,” she said.
“Well, I cannot provide those for you at present.”
“Then I am going to bed.” Giulia turned away again but stopped when his hand pulled her back.
“You would not go to bed angry, I hope.”
Giulia slowly turned to face him, aware of the warmth spreading from his hand to her own. She tried to fight the smile he ignited within her and cast her gaze to the stairs, shaking her head.
Nick tugged softly, guiding her down a step as he closed the distance a little, leaning forward. From her vantage point, they were nearly eye level and she found the novelty enjoyable. “Is there any particular reason you cannot sleep?” he asked.
“Many reasons,” she said, a wry smile twisting her lips. She sighed. “I checked everything. There is no key hidden among my possessions.”
Nick’s eyebrows pulled together in compassion. “That does not mean your father did not intend for you to find it. He could not control everything after his passing.”
How did Nick know what she was thinking? How did he know so well what she needed to hear? She was startled by his intuition and gratified by his support. She lowered her voice to nearly a whisper. “Ames asked to be released from his obligation to me. He has fallen in love with someone else.”
Nick stilled. His face took on a foreign expression and she wished she could hear exactly what he was thinking in that moment. She had taken a big risk in telling him of her freedom from Ames, and yet, a large part of her regretted the admission. How would this change things between them?
His face was serious, his voice low and firm. “Shall I call him out? I am an excellent shot, you know.”
“No, you shall not call him out.” She chuckled. “I am not all that surprised, to be honest. And I am truly very happy for him.”
