The Prince Brothers: Satisfaction Guaranteed!: Prince's Passion / Prince's Pleasure / Prince's Love-Child

Only to lean weakly back against it, breathing heavily, the pounding of her heart sounding loudly in the hallway.

She had thought—hoped!—that things couldn’t get any worse after this morning, but this was worse, so much worse, than anything she could have imagined!

Her home, the privacy she so valued, was now completely violated.

They would have to move again, she realized, get completely away from here. There was no way—

A loud pounding sounded on the door behind her. ‘Open the damned door, Jinx! Now!’ Nik ordered.

As if he had any right to tell her to do anything! As if—

‘For God’s sake, Jinx!’ He rapped loudly on the door again.

She didn’t want to let him in. Didn’t want his presence in her home. Didn’t want to remember his ever having been here. Didn’t—

‘I know you’re there, Jinx—’ his voice was menacingly soft now ‘—so just let me in and we can talk about this.’

Talk? What was there to talk about? Not only had he followed her here, but he had brought a reporter with him.

‘Unless you would rather just leave me alone out here with this reporter?’

Her fingers fumbled with the lock as she turned the knob, suddenly finding herself pushed to one side as the door immediately sprang open and Nik forced his way inside, slamming the door behind him.

Jinx just stared at him, her eyes accusing, her face pale.

‘Don’t look at me like that!’ he growled, closing his eyes briefly before raising his lids to look at her with glittering grey eyes. ‘No matter what you may think, I am not responsible for—for that!’ he told her grimly, moving restlessly away from the door.

Jinx took a step backwards, effectively blocking the hallway, as if to stop him going any further inside. She couldn’t help herself, the move purely instinctive.

‘Jinx…!’ Nik groaned almost pleadingly.

‘You—’ She broke off as a knock sounded on the door behind him, her expression scathing now. ‘Shouldn’t you answer that?’

His eyes glittered angrily. ‘Don’t make this any worse than it already is, Jinx—’

‘Is that possible?’ she snapped, wondering how this nightmare was going to end.

Not only did Nik Prince know where she lived, but a reporter did too!

‘Probably not,’ he conceded. ‘But, I repeat, I am not responsible for bringing that reporter here.’

Of course he was responsible; she certainly hadn’t invited a reporter to her home. If Nik hadn’t followed her—

‘Why did you follow me?’ she accused.

He looked uncomfortable now. ‘You know why,’ he muttered.

Oh, yes, she knew why; Nik had been all too aware that once she left James Stephens’s office none of them—but Nik especially!—would ever see her again.

She shook her head. ‘You’ve only made this so much worse, Nik. Are they ever going to go away?’ She groaned as the knock sounded on the door once again.

‘Not for a while, at least.’ He grimaced, taking a firm hold of her arm. ‘Let’s go somewhere where we can’t hear them—’

‘Let’s not,’ Jinx contradicted, pointedly removing her arm from the hold he had of her. ‘Do you think they managed to get a photograph?’ She frowned at the thought.

He winced. ‘Maybe not…’

‘In other words—yes,’ Jinx sighed. ‘This is such a mess. I don’t know what to do next. I—’ She broke off as the door opened at the end of the hallway.

‘Juliet, is that you, dear?’

She pushed past Nik, smiling brightly as she walked down the hallway to meet her father. He was a tall, spare man, iron-grey hair brushed neatly back, dressed in his familiar tweed suit and checked shirt, but the whole effect was slightly marred by the carpet slippers he was wearing with them. ‘Yes, it’s me, Daddy,’ she confirmed gently. ‘Where is Mrs Holt?’

Her father looked slightly vague. ‘In the kitchen preparing lunch, I think. I—there appears to be someone at the door.’ A frown furrowed his brow as another knock sounded on the door. ‘I—that was quick.’ He smiled enquiringly as he spotted Nik standing just in front of the closed door. ‘How do you do, young man?’ He moved forward to hold out his hand to Nik. ‘I’m Jack Nixon.’

Jinx was dismayed. Nik was an intelligent as well as astute man, and it wouldn’t take him too long to realize in exactly what way her father ‘wasn’t well’…

‘Nik Prince, sir,’ Nik returned respectfully as he shook the other man’s hand, a good thirty years younger than Jinx’s father. ‘I hope we’re not disturbing you?’

‘Not at all,’ the older man assured him. ‘We get so few visitors nowadays,’ he added wistfully. ‘Perhaps you would like to stay to lunch? I believe Mrs Holt said it’s chicken salad. I like chicken salad. Do you like chicken salad, young man?’

Jinx felt her heart contract at her father’s childish pleasure in such a small thing as having chicken salad for lunch, her gaze instantly becoming guarded as Nik turned to her with a frown.

‘Mr Prince isn’t staying to lunch, Daddy,’ she was the one to answer quickly. ‘In fact, I believe he was just on his way…?’ She gave him a pointed glare.

Nik’s expression was deliberately bland. ‘I’m not in any particular hurry,’ he said slowly.

‘Good. Good.’ Jinx’s father beamed, his blue eyes pale and watery now, lacking the sharp intelligence they had once had. ‘I’ll just go and tell Mrs Holt that there’s one extra for lunch.’ He shuffled off in the slightly overlarge carpet slippers.

Silence followed his departure. Jinx was loath to look up at Nik and see the questioning look she was sure would be on his face, and Nik remained quietly patient as he waited for her to say something.

But what could she say? Excuse my father, but he isn’t quite himself nowadays?

Not quite himself! Her father had once been one of the foremost experts on Jacobite history in this country, had taught the subject for over forty years, was consulted by other learned minds as to his opinion on certain events.

But that had been once…

Nowadays her father seemed to have trouble remembering what day it was, let alone what year, and if he still had his knowledge of history then it was buried somewhere behind the vagueness of his expression.

But how could she say any of that without having Nik feel sorry for her father?

Because she didn’t want Nik to pity her father. Didn’t want anyone to pity him, when he had once been a man so respected and revered by his peers.

‘Jinx…?’

Her head rose defensively as she finally looked up at Nik, her gaze challenging him to say anything that could be interpreted as pitying or—worse!—condescending.

Whatever he said next had to be the right thing, Nik knew, or Jinx would cast him from her life and never see him again. And that, he realized, was totally unacceptable to him.