Falling for Mr Wrong (12 page)

Annoyance zipped along her spine, hating him keeping her at arm’s length. Was he still worried about her being a ‘virgin’? She still had not told him the truth…yet. “This suite is the size of a house. There’s plenty of room.” Her arm waved around the magnificence of their rooms.

His lips pursed together before he said, “Tilly, go have your bath. Do we need to cover our story before dinner?”

She stared at him, puzzled. “No, I’m telling her the truth.”

“No, you’re not.” The clipped tone in his voice made her eyes widen.

Expelling an exasperated sigh, she said, “Nate, I’m not going to lie to her. She’s not going to tell anyone.”

“The truth stays between us,” he said in such a way that made her squirm. As far as he was concerned, he was in charge and she had no say.

“She’s looked after me since London.” Aunty Maude had been a steady and calming influence since she had arrived here. How dare the jerk suggest she hurt the one person who had been there for her?

“When we break up, you tell her things didn’t work out. I’ll take the blame. Isn’t that better than telling her we’re faking an engagement to hold off the reporters?” He said this with such nonchalance and disregard for her, her aunt and her predicament, that her head swam and she clutched a near-by sofa for support.

“Forget it. I won’t do it,” she hissed.

“You’re altering the facts so you don’t hurt her,” he said with a dismissive raise of his eyebrow.

“You should have been a politician. You have the gift of the gab,” she tossed at him, annoyed he was so comfortable in lying to the one person in Israel that mattered to her.

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t complicate things.”

Her lungs ached like giant sponges holding litres of salt water. She would not do it. Family came first.

“I’ll see you later.” He walked over and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead.

The click of the door closing reminded her of the old grandfather clock at home in the hallway. The hands had ticked over, they could never go backwards. Just like her, in her current predicament. She swung around and kicked the couch. “Ouch,” she cried, rubbing her toe. Darn him.

Being the outsider was nothing new, so Nate walked around Tilly embracing her aunt and made his way into Maude’s first floor apartment.

Discomfort pounded his temples. Things between him and Tilly were moving into dangerous territory. Too fast. Too personal. His fingers massaged the annoyance away. The lingering tightness would not subside. A deep breath did not help so he stalked down the small corridor and found himself in a tiny living room. Standing by a small wooden coffee table covered in photo frames, his eyes trailed around taking in the masses of family photos, paintings, an array of statues and other dust collectors. Overstuffed sofas invited one to sit and lean back in the softness of the plump pillows. Despite the open windows, the room felt stuffy and he undid the second button on his shirt.

Everything in the room represented warmth, family and comfort. This is what Tilly’s family had given her, nurtured her and raised her on. Unlike him who had a wayward, irresponsible father and a mother who preferred bottles of wine to her own children.

The happy snaps and cheesy grins seemed to mock him from the mantelpiece, knowing he did not belong. Never in his thirty-two years had he ever had such a need to sprint out the door.

And worse, his nose twitched at the comforting smells of home cooking which made his mouth water. How many times had he wished during his boyhood to be greeted with delicious cooking aromas rather than the reeking smell of alcohol, and more often than not, the stench of vomit? His jaw clenched hard focussing on his goal. The scoop. He could do this.

He spun around as the women entered the room. Tilly had her arm through her aunt’s. “Aunty Maude, let me introduce you to Nathaniel Morgan-Young. But call him Nate.”

With great effort, he smiled in return, noting the fine laughter lines around Maude’s eyes and mouth. “You have a lovely home, Mrs. Winters.” He shook her hand gently.

“Thank you,” said Maude. “Please sit.” She gestured to the comfortable looking chairs.

“So how do you know Tilly?” Maude asked.

He caught the wobble of Tilly’s lip, the strain around her mouth and tightness around her jaw. Those signs were all too reminiscent of Bea concealing the bullying whilst at school.

“We’re friends,” he heard Tilly say.

Friends?!
“Darling.” He brushed his lips against the softness of her cheek. “If I was
just
your friend, I wouldn’t have asked you to marry me.” He caught the snatched intake of breath. Tilly? Maude? He did not care. “Soon, you’ll be wearing my ring so everyone will know you’re my wife-to-be.” He brought her hand to his lips so he could press a kiss to her ring finger. Lowering her arm, he kept his hand around hers.

A quizzical frown marred Maude’s forehead. “Tilly, I didn’t know you had a boyfriend and now,” she paused, “you’re engaged?”

“Well…it’s been a whirlwind romance.” The words tumbled from Tilly’s lips.

He gave his ‘fiancée’ a reassuring kiss on the pulse point of her wrist. “We met in London. I was out of the country on business when the debacle with Sebastian happened. I told her I would meet her in Israel and here I am.” He paused. “I wasn’t there to look after Tilly when the reporters came after her, but I’m here now.”

He had to let Tilly come up with a good enough reason why she had not told Maude about him. He would keep up the pretence and go along with whatever story she concocted.

He leaned to kiss Tilly’s forehead before looking at her aunt. “I’d planned on asking her father but I just couldn’t wait.” He paused, looking at the older lady directly, “Mrs. Winters, you’re so important to Tilly, I hope you’ll give us your blessing.”

The surprise stretched across the older lady’s face was replaced by a huge smile. She clapped her hands together, “Oh my dears.” She walked over pulling them close into a tight embrace.

“I knew you’d find someone after Travis.” Nate heard Maude whisper to Tilly.

Who the hell was Travis? How had he missed that?

“If only I’d known, I would’ve chilled a bottle of champagne,” she sighed. “We’ll make do with sherry.” Maude bustled to a wooden buffet busying herself with small, fine stemmed glasses.

Instead of a smiling face, Nate was confronted with Tilly looking like he just ran over her pet dog.

“It’s better this way,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

Her bowed head shook. Before she could reply, he leaned over and planted his lips on hers until he felt them soften.

“Rat bag,” she hissed.

“I’ve been called worse. Now play your part.” He jabbed her ribs with his elbow as Maude turned around, three delicate glasses balanced on a silver platter.

Stepping forward to relieve Maude of the tray, he offered each of them a drink.

He raised his glass towards Maude, “to your health and for your hospitality.” Then turned towards Tilly before adding, “to my beautiful bride-to-be.”

Maude choked on a sob. “I just wish Uncle Jack was still here. He would have loved to have seen Tilly marry.”

Tilly placed her arm around her aunt’s bony shoulders. “He was a wonderful man.”

Nate took in a number of prominently displayed photos. He did not need Sherlock Holmes to deduce they were of Jack. Even aged, Maude’s beloved husband smiled in all the photos, frozen in time with a ruddy complexion and cheeky grin.

Nate scratched his chin. There had been no happy, family pictures in the council estate flat where he was raised. The place had been a dump and his mother had not bothered to make it liveable.

Nate refocussed on Tilly and Maude. His journalist’s gut reaction told him that Maude was street-smart and would see through any pretence. They needed to maintain their story
together
.

His gaze caught Tilly’s fingers clenched firmly together, the whiteness of her knuckles standing out against the dark colour blue of her skinny jeans. He had not considered just how hard maintaining the façade would be for her. Something unfamiliar curled in his chest. He was still responsible for her. Prying her fingers from the denim, he enveloped them in his own. “Something smells good,” Nate remarked, thereby ending their discussion.

Tilly shot him a grateful look.

Maude blushed. “I hope you like
shakshouka
. It’s eggs cooked with tomatoes, onions and spices.”

“I like everything.” He rubbed his stomach before planting another kiss on Tilly’s cheek.

The state of the art steel dining table from his London apartment would barely fit in Maude’s kitchen. With his knees virtually under his chin, every time he breathed his bent legs knocked the table causing the water to slosh over the rims of their glasses. “Sorry,” he apologised yet again. The cosiness was a far cry from the clean, clear lines of his architecturally designed apartment.

Maude lowered her cutlery. “Tilly, do you think the reporters will be waiting for you in London?”

Tilly sucked in a sharp breath so Nate replied. “I’m organising security.”

Maude nodded.

“And where will you live?”

“In my apartment. It’s very secure. Tilly has been hounded by the press and my place can offer her the protection she deserves.”

“I’m old-fashioned and don’t approve of young people living together,” she sniffed. “At least you’re engaged.”

Tilly started coughing and Nate poured her a glass of water. “Are you okay, darling?” he gently patted her back.

Her eyes filling with tears, Tilly nodded before sipping the water. “Sorry, something went down the wrong way.”

Satisfied Tilly was fine, Maude turned her attention back to Nate. Her roving eyes looking, seeking. All she needed to complete the inquisition was a metal chair, darkened room and spotlight.

“I was so angry about those reporters. My Tilly wouldn’t have had an affair with a married man. She was raised with morals and principles,” she added with a decisive nod of her head.

“Quite so.” He nodded in agreement.

“How long will you be in Jerusalem?” Maude asked.

His chest tightened with the need to maintain the deceit to Tilly’s beloved aunty. “I wanted to return to London tonight but Tilly insisted on seeing you.”

“Bless you both.” Maude’s smile extended to her ears as she looked at her niece.

His gut clenched at the sight of her obvious joy. He was in this for himself not for being nice.

The older lady continued. “I’m doing a tour tomorrow. I hope you can both come along.”

“I don’t think—” His polite decline was ignored by Maude.

“My dear,” her bony hand covered his, “this place is steeped in history. Tomorrow I will show you where we believe Jesus was crucified and buried. We will follow his final footsteps, see the place where he performed a healing miracle and where his mother Mary was born. Even if you’re not a committed Christian, I’m sure a writer like yourself will be interested to see the places and events in the Bible come to life. It’s here.” She pointed to the floor. “It all happened here.” She leaned back into her chair, her gaze focussed on him. “The Jewish people have been living here since before Christ but us Christians have been coming here on pilgrims for two thousand years.”

“Is that why you chose to stay, work and raise a family here?” Nate asked, forgetting about Tilly and finding interest in why an Australian would want to live away from their family and hometown.

“Of course. This small country is my home. I met my husband here and we had a real affinity for it. We lived in Jerusalem but we also conduct tours in Nazareth, Bethlehem and Galilee.”

“Galilee?” He scratched his head.

“Capernaum is where Jesus performed His miracle of the fish and loaves and the magnificent Sea of Galilee is where He walked on water.” Maude gave him a warm smile.

“Oh,” his heart sank at his lack of knowledge. She may not make him feel stupid but he sure felt it. A vague memory came to mind of the miracles Jesus performed. He had loved the stories and was interested in hearing them be repeated. To a young child with a miserable home life, the ancient times seemed exotic and an exciting place to revisit.

“We’d love it, wouldn’t we Nate?” Tilly turned, firing him a determined look.

“We do a lot of walking so wear comfortable shoes.” Maude leaned over to kiss her on the cheek.

“Aunty, in case there is anything in the papers, the press think we’ve been engaged longer than we actually have.”

Maude’s brows shot up. “Why?”

“By extending our relationship we can quash any suggestions that she was with Sebastian,” Nate added, before Tilly could open her mouth. The success of this story-spinning depended on everything, including all details, being aligned.

“Thank you for warning me. I don’t like lying, but if you think it’s best for Tilly.” Maude clucked her tongue against the roof her mouth.

He almost snorted considering the number of lies he had been involved in over the past forty-eight hours. “This way we can protect her reputation.”

The muscles in his neck stiffened as he watched the display of genuine affection being played out in front of him. Growing up, there had never been grandparents, cousins or uncles and aunts. Until his foster parents had taken him and Bea in, when had anyone looked out for him? Maude was kind and thoughtful, a direct opposite to the pathetic woman who was his mother.

Nate suddenly stood as though he had been ejected from his seat like a pilot on a collision course.

“Something wrong?” Maude asked, her face lined with concern.

“No.” Tightness around his chest made it hard to breathe.

He remained straight for a moment longer before he lifted the fallen chair.

The walls of the tiny kitchen seemed to be closing in around him as though the room was shrinking. Unable to leave, he did the next best thing. “I’ll do the dishes while you ladies catch up.”

“No, you’re a guest.” Maude gestured for him to sit.

Tilly shushed Maude, gently placing her hand over her aunt’s. “Let him, I want to tell you about the resort.” While filling the sink with hot, soapy water, he couldn’t help but overhear Tilly. “I don’t believe any man with dish-pan hands has ever been killed by his wife in a moment of rage.”