Say it with Diamonds...this Christmas: The Guardian's Forbidden Mistress / The Sicilian's Christmas Bride / Laying Down the Law

Or perhaps she’d fallen asleep without actually setting it. She’d stayed up quite late, doing everything she could the night before in preparation for Christmas Day.

‘Just get up and come downstairs,’ Nick said impatiently before whirling and striding from the room.

‘I … I’ll be down shortly,’ she called after him.

‘You’d better be,’ he called back.

It wasn’t till Nick left that Sarah realised she hadn’t wished him a happy Christmas. Still, he hadn’t thought to wish her the season’s greetings, either. He’d sounded tired and grumpy. Probably hadn’t had enough sleep. She hadn’t heard him come in last night, so it had to have been very late. Probably went to Chloe’s place after the party and …

‘Don’t think about last night,’ she lectured herself aloud. ‘Just get up and get on with things.’

Scooping in a deep breath, Sarah threw back the bedclothes and dashed into the bathroom, where she washed and cleaned her teeth in two minutes flat.

Then she stared at herself in the mirror.

D-Day, she thought with a wild fluttering in the stomach.

In a way it was a good thing that she didn’t have time to dress. It would make her transformation later on all the more eye-catching and dramatic.

At the same time, she didn’t want to look a total dag.

No time to do much with her hair except brush it, then twist it up into a loose knot on top of her head. Definitely no time for make-up.

Thankfully, her nightie was new and pretty, a lavender satin petticoat that had a matching robe. She slipped the robe on, looped the sash belt and hurried back into her bedroom, only then realising she had nothing suitable for her feet.

She never wore slippers. Sandals didn’t seem right and neither did her flip-flops.

Oh, well, it wouldn’t be the first time she went downstairs for Christmas breakfast barefooted and in her night things, though usually the latter were a bit longer. This nightie only reached mid-thigh, the robe to her knees. She would have to watch herself when she sat down. At least her legs were nice and smooth, all the way up. Sarah had taken herself off to a beautician late last week and had a full wax. Painful, but worth every penny not to have to worry about shaving for ages.

It felt a bit odd when she wasn’t wearing panties, however. Like now, for instance.

Sarah might have slipped some panties on, but there really wasn’t time for any more delay. It was already seven minutes past eight. And it wasn’t as though anyone would know.

Sarah sucked in one last, long, calming breath, exhaled slowly, then set forth for the staircase.

Breakfast on Christmas morning was always very light; croissants and coffee served in front of the tree during present-opening. The family room in Goldmine was huge, with three distinct sitting areas. The Christmas tree was always placed down the far end, where there were two brown leather sofas facing each other, and a sturdy wooden coffee-table between them.

Everything was set out in readiness by the time Sarah made it downstairs, delicious aromas hitting her nostrils as she padded down the steps into the family room.

Her entry was quiet, due to her bare feet, giving her a second or two to survey the situation and work out in advance where she would sit.

Flora and Jim occupied opposite ends of the sofa facing the terrace, with Nick sitting in the middle of the sofa opposite, sipping coffee. She didn’t want to sit next to him, not after what had happened yesterday. She certainly didn’t want to sit next to him without her panties on. Physical proximity to Nick made her body—and her mind—go absolutely haywire.

Whilst Sarah was still resolved to go through with her plan to doll herself up for Christmas lunch—and to pretend Derek was her new boyfriend—she no longer held any hope whatsoever that Nick’s eyes would be opened to her attractions as a female. She’d come to the dampening conclusion that after her father died Nick had mentally placed her in a box marked ‘legal responsibility’,

thereby killing off any possibility of a personal relationship between them.

Suddenly his head turned her way, his dark eyes travelling swiftly from her tousled hair down to her scarlet toenails before moving back up again.

Was she mistaken, or did his eyes stop to linger on her breasts?

Whatever, her body responded instantly, a tingling feeling spreading over her skin whilst her heartbeat quickened and her nipples peaked alarmingly against the satin.

Sarah swallowed. Surely she was imagining it, as she’d imagined yesterday that he’d been going to kiss her. Yes, of course she was. The man was just looking, the way any man would when a pretty young female presented herself in front of him in her night things. He’d always looked at her, just not the way she wanted him to.

‘Merry Christmas, everyone!’ she trilled, determined not to let the deluding nature of her feelings for Nick spoil present-opening.

Flora and Jim glanced round at once, their kind faces breaking into warm smiles.

‘And merry Christmas to you too, love,’ Flora returned happily. ‘Come on, come over here and sit next to me,’ she said, patting the spot next to her.

‘Sorry to keep you waiting.’ Sarah angled herself past Flora’s plump knees to take her place in the middle of the sofa directly opposite Nick. ‘I must have slept through my alarm,’ she added, once she was safely leaning back with her knees modestly pressed together and her robe arranged to cover as much of her bare thighs as possible.

‘That’s perfectly all right, love,’ Flora said. ‘You’re here now. Coffee?’ she offered, already leaning forward to pick up the coffee-pot.

‘Yes, please.’ Ignoring Nick—whose eyes had remained on her as she sat down—Sarah picked up a bread plate and helped herself to a croissant. ‘Have you all eaten yet?’

‘Jim and I have,’ Flora said. ‘Nick hasn’t. He said he wasn’t hungry. But I think he’s got a hangover.’

‘I do not have a hangover,’ Nick protested. ‘I feel fine. I’m just saving my appetite for lunch. But I will have a top-up of coffee, Flora,’ he said, putting his mug on the coffee-table and pushing it towards her. ‘With cream and sugar. That should keep me going for the next couple of hours.’

‘Did you enjoy yourself at the party last night?’ Sarah asked before she could snatch the words back. Truly, she was stupid sometimes.

Nick picked up his refilled coffee mug and took an appreciative sip before answering. ‘It was a typical party of that type. To be honest, I think I’m partied out at the moment. That’s one of the reasons I’m going to Happy Island. So that I can relax and do absolutely nothing for a while.’

‘You could do absolutely nothing here,’ Sarah pointed out, still hating the thought of his going away.

His dark eyes connected with hers over the rim of the mug. ‘I can’t, actually.’

‘Why not?’

‘People will bother me here,’ he stated matter-of-factly.

And get in the way of your spending private time with your girlfriend.

Sarah could picture them skinny-dipping in his swimming pool on Happy Island, making leisurely love in the water and everywhere else in the no doubt luxurious holiday house.

It was a depressing train of thought.

‘I think we should get on with present-giving,’ Flora suggested. ‘Jim, why don’t you play Santa this year? Is that OK with you, Sarah?’

‘Sure.’ She was more than happy to sit there and devour her croissant, telling herself all the while that she would stop at just one. Because if she didn’t, she’d be on her way back to Blubbersville.

But she needed the comfort the croissant gave her, needed to combat the dismay which was crushing her at that moment.

It was all so hopeless, Sarah thought wretchedly as she finished the first croissant in no time flat, then picked up another. Nick was never going to be hers. Not in bed, or anywhere else.

But then, you knew that, didn’t you? You were a fool to listen to Derek, even for a moment.

Flora’s gentle hand on her arm stopped her from stuffing the second croissant into her mouth.

‘Perhaps that can wait till after we’ve opened the presents,’ she suggested. ‘Pick one of Nick’s presents first, Jim, so that Sarah can drink her coffee.’

‘Thank you, Flora,’ Sarah whispered under her breath as she put down the croissant and picked up her coffee instead.

Jim rose and began moving the pile of presents around, Sarah’s stomach contracting when he selected a smallish rectangular gift, wrapped in sparkling gold paper that had Christmas trees all over it.

‘That’s from me,’ she said with false brightness when Jim handed it over to Nick.

Instead of Sarah feeling joyful anticipation at Nick’s opening her present, her main emotion now was anxiety over his reaction. Sarah knew he would like it. She just hoped he wouldn’t read anything into it. She would hate him to guess how she secretly felt about him. Hate the humiliation that would go with any such discovery.

Nick put down his coffee and ripped off the wrapping paper, frowning when confronted with the plain white cardboard box.

‘Not cologne this year?’ he said as he struggled to open the tight top, his short nails not helping with the task.

‘No,’ she replied. ‘Do you want me to open it for you?’

‘No. I’ll get it. Eventually. There. Done.’ Nick frowned some more as he upended the box and slid the bubble-wrapped gift into the palm of his hand. ‘I have no idea what this could be,’ he said with genuine puzzlement in his voice as he unwrapped it.

Sarah found herself holding her breath, rewarded when she saw pure, unadulterated delight fill his face.

‘I … I hope you like it,’ Sarah said, her cheeks colouring when his eyes lifted to stare over at her. Oh, goodness, she hoped he wasn’t jumping to any embarrassing conclusions.

‘What is it?’ Flora piped up before Nick could answer her. ‘Show me.’

Nick placed the miniature golf bag on the coffee-table for everyone to see before shaking his head at her.

‘Words fail me, Sarah,’ he said. But with amazement, not speculation.

‘Look at this, Jim,’ Flora said. ‘It’s a tiny little golf bag, full of the most beautiful little golf clubs.’

Jim leant over to take a closer look. ‘It looks expensive.’

‘Yes,’ Nick agreed. ‘It does. You shouldn’t have spent so much money on me, Sarah.’

‘Oh, it wasn’t too dear for a soon-to-be heiress,’ she replied airily. ‘I thought you deserved something special for having put up with me all these years. The clubs are made from real silver, you know. English silver. They have hallmarks on them.’

‘Where on earth did you get it?’ Nick asked.

‘I bought it on eBay. They have things you just don’t see in the shops.’

‘It’s an exquisite and thoughtful present,’ he said as he picked it up again. ‘I’ll treasure it always.’

Sarah’s heart swelled with pleasure. If nothing else, she’d pleased him with her gift today, his genuinely warm reaction lifting her spirits and making her realise that he did care about her. She’d seen the affection in his eyes just now.

If she could not spark his sexual interest, then she would settle for his affection. It was better than nothing. For a while there, over the last few years, she’d begun thinking he didn’t even like her any more.

But it was clear that he did. Maybe, once she grew up and got over this mad sexual obsession that had been tormenting her for far too long, they could even become friends again.

‘Now it’s your turn,’ Nick said. ‘Jim, give me that box with the red bow on it, please. Yes, that’s the one.’

Nick smiled as he handed Sarah the store-wrapped package. ‘Sorry it’s not quite what you asked for.’

‘What are you talking out? Oh, you mean the car. Well, I was only joking, you know. I can’t imagine what you’ve bought me,’ she said a bit breathlessly as she removed the bow then lifted the lid off the box.

Inside was a yellow car. A model of the one she’d mentioned to Nick. Not a miniature, but quite a large one. And not cheap, either.

Sarah laughed as she drew it out. ‘Look what the wicked devil bought.’

Flora clucked her tongue at Nick. Jim liked it, though, calling it a beauty.

‘If you open the driver’s door,’ Nick said, ‘you might find something of more use to a soon-to-be heiress.’

Sarah did as she was told, and discovered a small, rectangular-shaped box made in dark red velvet. She knew, before she opened it, that it contained jewellery, but what?

Nerves claimed her stomach when she started to lift the lid. Nick never bought her jewellery. So why had he this time?

The sight of what was inside took her breath away.

‘Oh, my God!’ she gasped before gazing with wide eyes up at Nick. ‘Tell me they’re not real diamonds. Tell me they’re zircons, or cut glass.’

‘Of course they’re real diamonds,’ Flora said, leaning over to gaze at Sarah’s present.

‘They do look expensive,’ Jim said, not for the first time that morning.

‘Don’t you like them?’ Nick said drily. ‘If you want to return them, I’m sure I still have the receipt somewhere.’

‘Over my dead body!’ Sarah retorted, snapping the box shut and hugging it to her chest.

Nick smiled. ‘I do realise that you have all your mother’s jewellery, but what suits one woman doesn’t necessarily suit another. I thought these were more you.’

Sarah opened the box again, then picked one of the earrings out of the box for closer viewing. It had a large diamond at the lobe, and two dangling drops of smaller diamonds that shimmered and sparkled with the slightest movement.

‘You think I’m a girl who favours flashy jewellery?’

‘Diamonds aren’t flashy, they’re classy. And they never go out of fashion. You can wear them with any outfit.’

‘Then I’ll wear them today,’ she decided immediately.

‘To the Christmas lunch.’ And I’ll make sure Chloe knows who gave them to me, she vowed with uncharacteristic bitchiness.

‘Yes, do that,’ he agreed, an odd glitter in his eyes.

Sarah wished she knew what was going on in his head. But he was a closed book when he wanted to be.

‘I’d like my present from Nick now,’ Flora piped up.

‘Oooh, did I get diamonds, too?’ she added when Jim handed her a beautifully wrapped gift that was almost as small as Sarah’s.

‘Sorry,’ Nick returned. ‘I thought you’d prefer sapphires, to go with your pretty blue eyes.’

‘Oh, go on with you,’ Flora said laughingly.

But he had bought her sapphires, in the form of an utterly stunning, sapphire-encrusted watch. Jim got a watch, too, a very expensive gold one. Both were thrilled to pieces.

Sarah had never known Nick spend so much money on Christmas presents. He couldn’t possibly be having serious financial worries, she thought with some relief, if he was throwing money around like this.

Flora and Jim seemed to like the gifts Sarah had chosen for them, Flora gushing over her favourite perfume and a cookbook, a new one that featured healthy meals. Jim was notoriously difficult to buy presents for, but a bottle of really rare port, plus a special glass engraved with his name, found favour.

In return, Flora and Jim gave Sarah a truly beautiful photo frame and a lovely feminine diary for the following year. It had pictures of flowers on every page, along with a special thought for the day. Nick became the proud owner of a new leather wallet, along with a very stylish gold silk tie.

‘For the rare occasions when you’re forced to wear one,’ Flora informed him.

Which was, indeed, rare. Nick looked drop-dead gorgeous in a tux, or any suit for that matter. But he hated wearing them. He much preferred casual clothes. When circumstance demanded, he did wear a business suit, but he mostly teamed it with an open-necked shirt, or a crew-necked designer top. Only when protocol insisted on a tie did he wear one.

Around the house, he lived in shorts and jeans. Like now. Of course, he would change for Christmas lunch into a smart pair of trousers and an open-necked shirt, its length of sleeve depending on the weather. Today the forecast was for twenty-eight degrees, a very pleasant temperature for this time of year.

Sarah was glad it wasn’t going to be cool, or rainy, as she would have frozen in her outfit.

‘OK, folks,’ Nick said, and abruptly stood up. ‘Time to clean up the mess we’ve made here and shake a leg. Jim, I’ll need your help getting everything ready outside. But Flora, you’re not to rush around working yourself into a lather like you usually do. The caterers are due here at ten. All they require is a clean kitchen. They’re providing everything, right down to the crockery, cutlery and glasses. Though not the wine. I bought that last week and stored it in the cellar. Jim, we’ll need to bring that up as well. I’ll put my presents away first, then meet you on the back terrace in five minutes. The guests are due to arrive from midday on, so, Sarah, leave plenty of time to dress and be back downstairs by five to twelve, ready to help me greet people at the door as they arrive.’

‘How many are coming this year?’ she asked.

‘Twenty, if they all show up. Twenty-four, including us. OK?’

‘Fine.’

They all rose to do as they were told, Sarah’s heart beating faster when she thought of what lay ahead. Ok, so maybe it had been foolhardy of her to go along with Derek’s plan without thinking it fully through, but now that the moment was at hand, it was still better than facing Christmas lunch alone. If nothing else, Derek wouldn’t let her eat everything in sight.

But would he be able to withstand Nick’s scrutiny?

Flora had told her yesterday that Nick took his job as her guardian very seriously indeed. Which in the past had obviously included vetting her boyfriends and making sure they weren’t fortune-hunters.

Bringing Derek home so close to her inheriting her father’s estate—not to mention telling Nick that they were very much in love—would only make him extra-protective. And paranoid.

She’d feel more confident if Derek weren’t gay. And if she’d met this Chloe before. The unknown made her nervous. And she didn’t want to be nervous. She wanted to swan downstairs just before midday, the epitome of cool composure and worldly sophistication. She wanted Nick to take one look at her and think to himself that she was the most beautiful and desirable woman that he had ever seen!

CHAPTER SIX

BY ELEVEN, Nick had done everything that needed to be done downstairs. The tables and shady blinds had been set up, and the wine brought up from the cellar and delivered to the family-room bar. The caterers had arrived right on ten, the staff consisting of three females and two males, a highly efficient group of people whose job it was to take the stress out of Christmas Day dinners.

Nick smiled ruefully to himself as he went upstairs. He had no doubt that they did a very good job with the food, the serving and the clearing up afterwards. But nothing—and no one—was going to take the stress out of this Christmas dinner. Not for him, anyway.

He’d thought he’d finally got a handle on the unwanted desires Sarah had been evoking in him since she turned sixteen. But no, he’d just been deluding himself. Her staying away from home for most of this year had lulled him into a false sense of security. That, and meeting Chloe, whose sexy body and entertaining company had banished his secret lust for Sarah into the dungeon of his mind; that dark, dank place in which Nick imprisoned memories and emotions that were best forgotten. Or, at least, ignored.

He’d honestly thought he was prepared for Sarah’s presence at Christmas. Thought he’d taken every precaution to keep the door to that mental dungeon firmly locked.

It had been Flora’s news over breakfast yesterday that Sarah was bringing a boyfriend to the Christmas Day lunch which had shattered his illusion of iron self-control, stirring up a hornet’s nest of jealousy within him. Next thing Nick knew, he was staying home from golf, just so that he could be here when she arrived. He’d made the excuse that he needed to talk to her about her inheritance, when in fact what he’d wanted most was to question her about the new man in her life.

Finding out that she was madly in love with this Derek didn’t do his jealousy any good. OK, so on the surface he’d managed to control himself around Sarah. He gave himself full marks for not kissing her when he’d had the chance yesterday afternoon.

But he’d given in to temptation over those diamond earrings, hadn’t he? Spent a small fortune on them, with the full intention of letting dear Derek know who’d bought them for her.

The truth was Nick had behaved badly every time Sarah brought home a boyfriend. He’d always pretended to himself that he was only doing what Ray had asked him to do, justifying his actions with the excuse that he was protecting her from fortune-hunters.

But that was actually far from the truth. None of those poor boys in the past had been gold-diggers. How could they be, when Sarah had never told anyone she was an heiress? They’d just been young men who’d had the good fortune—or was it misfortune?—to be where Nick had always wanted to be.

With Sarah.

The savage satisfaction he’d experienced every time he broke up one of her relationships showed just what kind of man he was: rotten to the core and wickedly selfish.

What would he do this time? he wondered grimly as he mounted the top landing and gazed down the hallway towards Sarah’s bedroom.

Nothing, he hoped. The same way he’d done nothing yesterday when she’d been in his arms. He’d wanted to kiss her. Hell, he’d ached to kiss her.

But what would that have achieved, except make her look at him not with adoration as she’d once done, but with disgust? Sarah had finally fallen in love; possibly she was on the verge of having what she’d always wanted: marriage and children.

If this Derek was a decent fellow, then it would be cruel and callous to try to put doubts in Sarah’s head about him.

Yet he wanted to …

Still, wanting to do something and actually doing it were two entirely different things. He’d wanted to seduce Sarah for years, but he hadn’t, had he?

Nick shook his head agitatedly as he forged on across the carpeted landing into the master bedroom. It wasn’t till he shut the door behind him that his mind shifted from his immediate problem with Sarah to another problem he would have to face in the near future.

Come February, he had to leave this house.

It would be a terrible wrench, Nick knew. He’d grown very attached to the place, and the people in it. He could not imagine coming home to any other house, or any other bedroom.

Strange, really. Eight years ago, after Ray died and Nick moved into the house, he hadn’t much liked this bedroom.

Ray had gone Japanese-mad after his trip to Tokyo; the gardens hadn’t been the only thing around Goldmine to be changed: the master-bedroom suite had been totally gutted, its walls painted white, the plush gold carpet ripped out and polished floorboards laid. The heavy mahogany bedroom suite had been given to charity, to be replaced by black lacquered Japanese-style furniture. The king-sized bed was now large and low, the duvet and pillows covered in scarlet silk with sprays of flowers at their corners.

Other than two matching black lacquered bedside tables, there’d been no furniture in the room, the walk-in wardrobe being spacious enough to accommodate all Ray’s clothes.

The bathroom had been changed with an all-white suite during this refurbishment, enlarged as well to accommodate a huge spa bath that you could practically swim in.

Nick liked the bathroom, but had found the bedroom rather stark, and not evocative of the atmosphere he wanted his bachelor boudoir to evoke. So he’d bought three fluffy white rugs to surround the bed, and some white cane chairs for the corners. A huge plasma television now hung on the wall opposite the bed with access to every satellite television channel available. Black silk sheets were his final purchases, along with some new shades for the chrome-based bedside lamps: red, of course.