Lone Wolfe (15 page)

 
          
‘Yes,
class, Jacob,’ she replied a bit tartly. ‘And it’s been my experience that
people in the upper classes don’t think such a thing exists.’

 
          
‘Mollie,
we’re living in the twenty-first century. Class constructs are irrelevant.’

 
          
‘Maybe
to you, but they’re not to me. Not when all this—’ She swept out an arm to
encompass the restaurant, the hotel, his world, and knocked over her water
glass. It clattered to the floor with an almighty crash, the crystal shattering
into dangerous-looking shards. ‘Oh.’ Mollie bit her lip, mortified. She looked
up to see Jacob observing her calmly, completely unruffled by her undignified
display. ‘I think,’ she said, ‘I just illustrated my point perfectly.’

 
          
And
then Jacob did something she’d never seen or heard him do: he laughed. The
sound startled her; it wasn’t dry or mocking or cold. It was
a
pure, joyous peal that rang clear through her, and made her smile and then
laugh
as well, despite her initial embarrassment.

 
          
‘Oh,
Mollie,’ Jacob said, leaning over to clasp her hand with his once more, his
fingers curling warmly around hers, ‘whatever differences there are between us,
I wouldn’t change a thing about you. Not one blessed thing.’

 
          
And
with his hand still on hers and his laugh still echoing in her ears, Mollie
thought she wouldn’t change anything at that moment either.

 
          
A
waiter had hurried to clean up the mess, and within seconds he’d whisked the
shattered crystal away and replaced Mollie’s glass on the table. Jacob sat
back, slipping his hands from hers, and his expression cleared so it was almost
as if that wondrous moment of shared laughter had never been.

 
          
Mollie
gazed down at her menu. She didn’t know why she’d brought up the class differences
between them. Jacob was right, they were irrelevant. She had a gnawing
suspicion that her complaint had really been just a cover for what she really
felt: fear. Fear that she was starting to care for Jacob. Fear of what might
happen if she let herself fall all the way. It wouldn’t, perhaps, be that great
a distance.

 
          
‘Now
you
look a million miles away,’ Jacob
said quietly, and Mollie looked up, trying to smile.

 
          
‘I
suppose I was. But never mind.’ She pushed the thoughts away and tried to
smile.

 
          
‘Mollie
…?’ Jacob prompted gently.
A smile quirked the corner of his
mouth.
‘Tell me the most wonderful thing you saw today.’

 
          
And
filled with a sudden, buoyant relief at having an excuse
not
to think or
fear, Mollie did
.

 
          
The
rest of the dinner conversation flowed smoothly, surprisingly so, for as Mollie
let all those prickly concerns and doubts slip away for a little while, she
found Jacob wonderfully easy to talk to. He listened with that grave stillness
she’d come to appreciate, and yet after an hour when several courses had been
cleared and she was toying with the last of her chocolate mousse gateau, she
realised she’d been talking about herself the whole time; Jacob hadn’t said
anything.
Shared anything.

 
          
‘I
must be boring you,’ she said with a little laugh.
‘Talking
so much.’
She placed her fork on a plate with a clatter.

 
          
‘Not at all.’

 
          
‘Tell
me something about yourself.’ Jacob said nothing, and Mollie thought what an
appropriate response that was. ‘Tell me about Nepal,’ she said.

 
          
He
gave a little shrug. ‘What do you want to know?’

 
          
‘What
made you go there? What did you do there? What was it like?’ She propped her
chin in her hands and gave him a teasing smile. ‘I’ve never travelled, except
for my one trip to Italy. Tell me everything.’ Jacob hesitated, and Mollie felt
as if she’d just asked him to extract his eyeteeth and hand them to her. ‘Why
is it so difficult to talk about it?’ she asked softly, and he gave her the
glimmer of a smile.

 
          
‘I
told you, I’ve been a very private man.’

 
          
‘I’m
not asking you to spill state secrets, am I?’ Mollie said. She kept her voice
light, her smile mischievous. Yet even so, she found herself asking something
she knew instinctively was far too personal. ‘Why have you been so private?
What are you trying to hide?’

 
          
Jacob
stilled, stiffened. Mollie realised she might have offended him. She bit her
lip,
then
opened her mouth to utter a hasty apology,
when Jacob spoke first.
‘Everything.’
He spoke the
word lightly, almost as a joke, yet one look into those fathomlessly black
eyes, and Mollie knew it wasn’t.

 
          
She
knew it was the stark, literal truth, and it made her ache with a nameless
sorrow. She could only imagine how it made Jacob feel.

 
          
‘Well,
then,’ she said after a moment, ‘let’s keep it about Nepal. Did you go to
Kathmandu? Did you see the Dalai Lama? Oh, that’s Tibet, isn’t it?’

 
          
He
laughed lightly. ‘Yes, it is. I didn’t see him, I’m afraid. But I did spend
some time in a monastery.’

 
          
‘Really?’
Intrigued, she leaned forward. ‘Why? I mean … it’s
not exactly a usual holiday destination, is it?’

 
          
‘I
wasn’t on a holiday. I worked my way across Europe and Asia, and ended up in
Nepal. I stayed in a small village that had been devastated by flooding from
the local river, and so I helped them to rebuild.’ He gave her a small smile.
‘My first building project.’

 
          
‘And
then?’ Mollie asked. She loved hearing about him, about what he’d done.

 
          
‘I
kept working.’ His hand, lying loosely on the tabletop, tightened briefly.
‘As much as I could.
When I worked, I didn’t have to think.
Or sleep.’

 
          
‘Sleep?’
Mollie repeated. ‘Why didn’t you want to sleep?’

 
          
Jacob
shrugged, and Mollie could tell he regretted what he’d said. ‘I just enjoyed
working,’ he replied in a tone of unmistakable dismissal. ‘Seeing something
being
built,
made good.’ He took a sip of water.
‘Anyway, I worked too much and ended up becoming quite ill with a fever. The
villagers took me to the nearest monastery to recover, and I stayed there for
several months, getting stronger and learning from the monks.’

 
          
‘What
did you learn?’

 
          
‘Control, over the mind as well as the body.’
He paused, his
fingers toying with the stem of his water glass. ‘Control is crucial.’

 
          
Mollie
said nothing. What was Jacob trying to control? What part of
himself
needed such a stern hand? The man she’d come to know was kind, thoughtful,
thinking of others before himself. Yet by the harsh light in Jacob’s eyes,
Mollie knew he didn’t see himself that way … the way she did.

 
          
‘Well,’
she finally said in an effort to break the silence, ‘it sounds fascinating,
even if you didn’t get to Kathmandu.’

 
          
Jacob
looked up, a smile now quirking the corner of his mouth.
‘Maybe
next time.’

 
          
‘Next
time,’ Mollie agreed, and then they both lapsed into a silence that seemed
suddenly heavy with tense expectation. Mollie was achingly conscious that they
were in a beautiful restaurant, having eaten a wonderful meal, and that in just
about every way this evening should have been a date. Surely people thought
they were on a date, lingering over the last crumbs of their dessert, gazing
into each other’s eyes?

 
          
She
realised she wanted it to be a date; she wanted Jacob to smile lazily and say—

 
          
‘Care
to dance?’

 
          
Mollie
stiffened in surprise. She had no idea if Jacob had said that or if she had
just imagined it, fantasised she’d heard it because she wanted it so much.

 
          
‘Pardon?’

 
          
Jacob
smiled, gesturing towards the jazz band that was playing a slow, sensual tune
in the corner of the restaurant.

 
          
‘Do
you want to dance?’

 
          
Mollie
swallowed. Jacob had asked lightly, as if it meant nothing, but she could see
that dark, intense gleam in his eyes and knew how dangerous it would be to let
herself
glide in his arms.

 
          
How
much she wanted it.

 
          
‘Okay,’
she
said,
her voice no more than a whisper, and then
wordlessly she took Jacob’s outstretched hand and rose from the table,
following him onto the dance floor.

 
          
Control
was crucial. So he’d said.

 
          
As
Jacob slid his arms around Mollie’s slender waist, he felt his control
stretching to a single frayed thread. He shouldn’t have asked her to dance. He
shouldn’t have tempted himself so far, knowing how he could break. Want.

 
          
Hurt.

 
          
He
closed his eyes, drawing her closer, inhaling the sweetness of her hair,
something between lilac and soap. She smelled clean.
Fresh.
Pure.

 
          
He
felt her hesitation; it travelled through her body in a trembling wave and then
she relaxed into him, her breasts brushing his chest, her hair his cheek in a
silken whisper. He heard her give a small, soft sigh, and he knew she’d
surrendered to the dance, to him.

 
          
If
he wanted her, he could have her. He could take her upstairs and strip that
lavender dress from her slowly, let it pool at her feet and then take her for
his own. Obliterate
his own
wretched self in the soft
yielding of her body. She wouldn’t resist. Wouldn’t be able to, for she felt
that treacherous tug of desire as much as he did.

 
          
It
would be so easy.
So wonderful.
So
wrong
.

 
          
Jacob
closed his eyes and tried to summon his control.
His
strength.
He needed it now more than ever, for he couldn’t do what he
wanted. He knew that, had accepted it. The women he’d taken to his bed had
always been as worldly and jaded as he was, perfectly willing to accept his
soulless conditions. Sex was a transaction, mutually satisfying, emotionally
barren. No chance of anyone being hurt by him. He had nothing to give—nothing
worthwhile—and he wanted nothing in return.

 
          
Yet
now he wanted. He wanted Mollie in ways he’d never wanted a woman. Not just in
his arms, but in his thoughts.
His head.
Even his heart.
He’d enjoyed talking with her, had wanted to
tell her more. He’d felt her interest and her sympathy touch a dark, raw place
inside of him that no one ever saw.

 
          
When
Mollie asked him questions, he wanted to answer. He wanted to brush the curl
that
lay
against her cheek and kiss her sweet mouth,
already puckered into a thoughtful frown. He wanted to smooth her forehead and
brush his lips against the freckles that shimmered across her shoulders. He
wanted all of her, body and mind and perhaps even soul and heart, and that
thought terrified him more than the worst nightmare he’d ever had.

 
          
For
what came after, what would surely happen if he gave in to such
desire,
was perhaps worse than what he’d already done. He’d
accepted that he’d hurt his siblings by leaving, had made peace with it because
the decision had been so necessary, so absolute.