Page 68 of Quinn, By Design

Lucy loved Niall, but love didn’t mean a damn thing without mutual trust. She’d dared to dream Niall was beginning to love her. She’d been wrong. “I’m sorry for your loss” had metastasized to an obligation, which for him had drifted from the friendly to the lustful to the how-the-hell-did-I get-myself-into-this-mess?

She’d probably never get another chance to tell Niall her secret. That she was terrified of making mistakes that led to physical harm for the people she loved. She’d been so busy guarding against one kind of mistake, she’d tumbled over a different precipice. She’d worried about his physical well-being, even his financial well-being, whereas self-confidence was his soft underbelly.

Pity it took you so long to work that out.

“Stop your dreamin’.” She shivered as the loneliness of the empty house pressed against her. Her new plan might not work, but fair play demanded she try. Grandpa had written a story about his wishes and Niall’s future. She needed to finish that story.

An hour later, Lucy sat in her lawyer’s office.

“What you’re proposing isn’t legal.” Henry was probably regretting giving up his weekend for her.

“It’s ethical”—she’d driven her staid, pillar-of-the-community lawyer to uncharacteristic snappiness—“and the only way I can think of to ensure Niall benefits from Grandpa’s bequest.”

“It’s his right to refuse.” He lifted a hand, and she waited for him to snatch at his hair in frustration, but he lowered his beautifully manicured paw and pressed his palm flat on his desk.

“Whisht! He’s only refusing because I messed it up.” Lucy’s heart sank. She couldn’t fail at the first hurdle. “Tell me honestly. If you’d notified him, and I’d stayed out of it and away from him, do you think he’d be refusing the bequest now?”

“Maybe. He’s a proud man.”

“Pride and stubbornness are second cousins.” She huffed out a breath.

“What’s going on, Lucy?” Henry was back to being calm and calculating, having dissected her outlandish request into its various parts.

“He’d scheduled an exhibition. Given his skill, it’s likely it would have cemented his name and reputation and been a launchpad for his mentoring role in the foundation.”

She’d stolen every moment of time she could get with Niall, stolen time from his work.

“I was floundering, missing Grandpa so much I wasn’t seeing straight. We both know I didn’t really need money from Niall. Imagining debt everywhere I looked was sheer panic on my part. But he gave up days to my restoration projects, and minutes and hours and half days when I dropped in unannounced to talk about Grandpa. He cancelled his exhibition.”

“You blame yourself?” He steepled his hands on his desk.

“The bulk of the evidence points that way.”Although I’ve decided to apportion blame equally.“He’s convinced he’s not a suitable mentor.”

“You do know anyone in Australia can ask to see a copy of a deceased’s will?”

“Isn’t there some other kind of legal agreement that might work? A codicil?” She sighed. “I’m trying to buy some time here, make him rethink his decision.”

“A cooling-off period?” Henry’s eyes twinkled. “What are you planning to do in the meantime?”

“I’m still working on it.” Niall had said “don’t leave.” He’d left a door slightly ajar. She’d be a fool not to look inside.

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