Lone Wolfe (28 page)

 
          
She
paused, coming out of the shadow of the trees, for on a hill above the woods
she could see a lone figure standing in the family’s private cemetery. Mollie
had almost forgotten about the little graveyard on the far corner of the
estate, its iron fence rusted, the gate nearly falling off its broken hinge.
Her own father was buried in the local churchyard in Wolfestone. All the
Wolfes, however, were buried here. Slowly she walked up the hill and slipped
through the half-open gate to where Jacob was standing.

 
          
Most
of the headstones in the family plot were mossy and falling down, their engraved
dates worn clear away by time and weather. A few more recent headstones were in
the far corner, where Jacob stood. She passed by William’s wives: first Amber,
then Penelope, whom she knew was Jacob’s mother. She joined Jacob in front of
William’s grave.

 
          
Neither
of them spoke. Mollie glanced at the headstone; besides the dates of William’s
birth and death there was a simple epitaph:
Have
Mercy
.

 
          
Silently
she slid her hand into Jacob’s.

 
          
‘It
was all I could think of,’ he said quietly.
‘The epitaph.
My father made such a mess of his life.’

 
          
Mollie
said nothing. She was humbled by Jacob’s selflessness, his willingness to plead
for his father even while he denied himself that same mercy.

 
          
‘I’ve
been angry for so long,’ he continued, his fingers tightening on hers. ‘And I’m
not any more. It’s such a strange feeling, a lightness, not to carry that
burden around. I spoke to Lucas this morning, on the telephone, and even he
could tell something was different. Better.’ He paused, his gaze still fixed on
William’s headstone. ‘I only feel pity for him now. Pity and love for the man
he sometimes was, the man I know he wanted to be.’

 
          
‘And
it’s good you remember that,’ Mollie told him. ‘His life wasn’t an utter waste,
if you can hold onto that.’

 
          
The
sun was breaking through the morning clouds, and the day was turning hot. Jacob
turned to smile at Mollie. ‘I want to show you something,’ he told her.
‘Something new.’

 
          
Several
hours later, dressed and showered, Mollie followed Jacob out of the manor and
stopped in surprise at the car parked in the drive.
The
little red convertible.

 
          
‘You
brought it back from London?’

 
          
‘I
had it driven.’ Jacob went round to open her door. ‘It’s a beautiful day. We
can ride with the top down.’

 
          
Mollie
slipped into the car and Jacob closed the door. ‘Where are we going?’ she asked
as they drove down the sweeping lane and then through the estate’s wrought iron
gates.

 
          
Jacob
gave her a teasing, glinting smile. ‘You’ll see.’

 
          
She
still wasn’t prepared when, a half-hour later, they arrived at a private
airstrip, a jet waiting on the tarmac. Mollie turned to him, her eyes wide.

 
          
‘
Jacob.?
’

 
          
‘Come
on.’ He parked and opened the door, and disbelievingly Mollie followed him
towards the plane.

 
          
‘A jet?
But where …?
I don’t have
anything …’ She was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, thinking he’d meant to show
her something on the estate. At least she’d brushed her teeth and put on a dab
of makeup, but other than that …

 
          
‘I’ve
taken care of it all,’ Jacob assured her. His eyes glinted as if he knew
exactly what she was thinking.
‘Everything.’

 
          
Mollie
gave a little laugh. This was so out of her realm, she was spinning. She
decided to go with it. ‘Okay,’ she said, and headed up the stairs to the
waiting plane.

 
          
A
few minutes later the jet taxied down the airstrip and then took off into a
cloudless blue sky. Across from her Jacob was grinning like a little boy with a
secret. The interior of the jet was upholstered in luxurious white leather,
with a mahogany coffee table between the sofas. It felt like a living room in
the sky. A steward silently came forward with a bottle of sparkling cider and
two flutes.

 
          
‘This
is amazing,’ Mollie said as Jacob handed her a glass. He raised his in a toast,
and she did the same.

 
          
‘To amazing surprises.’

 
          
They
both drank, and Mollie felt the bubbles from the cider fizz low in her belly at
Jacob’s heavy-lidded look. She loved everything about him, from the way his
eyes glinted darkly to the low note of languor in his voice as he said, ‘Come
here.’

 
          
Mollie
didn’t pretend to misunderstand. ‘Jacob, the steward—’

 
          
‘He
knows not to come back.’

 
          
She
glanced around the little cabin, the door closed to the staff quarters on one
end and the cockpit on the other. They were completely alone.

 
          
‘All
right,’ Jacob said easily, ‘if you won’t come here, then I’ll come to you.’

 
          
He
rose from his seat with easy grace, and even after a week of exploring and
learning every inch of his body Mollie’s heart began to thud with expectation
as he closed the space between them, sitting next to her on the sofa before
pulling her onto his lap, her legs sliding across his, her breasts grazing his
chest. Even now the contact felt so good, made the breath dry in her throat and
the thoughts evaporate from her brain like bubbles.

 
          
Bubbles.
She was filled with bubbles, light, airy, wondrous.
They were miracles, really. How did they float? How did they not pop?

 
          
Jacob
smiled, his hands sliding through the silk of her hair, down to her shoulders,
his thumbs coming round to brush the already aching sides of her breasts.

 
          
‘Jacob
…’ she said, but it was only a half-hearted protest as she felt the hardness of
his thighs against her, and her hands came up to flatten against the wall of
his chest, then slid up of their own accord to his shoulders, to draw him even
closer still. He was very close now, so she could smell the woodsy tang of his
aftershave and see the glint of dark stubble on his chin. If she leaned forward
just an inch she’d feel his lashes brush her own cheek. He was still smiling
faintly, and all Mollie could think about was how much she loved him … and how
much she wanted to touch him
now
.

 
          
He
dipped his head lower to hers and nipped at the corner of her mouth, his teeth
gently scraping the softness of her lips, playful, provocative. With a groan
she closed the space between their mouths and Jacob claimed her for his own in
a deeper kiss, one hand coming up to fist in her hair and
angle
her head closer to his, the other spanning her hips and moving her so she sat
straddled him, the juncture of her thighs so achingly snug against his.

 
          
‘Jacob
…’ she said again, breathlessly, half protest, half plea.

 
          
He
smiled and reached for the zip of her jeans.

 
          
Mollie
gasped at the feel of his fingers sliding against her skin, dipping under the
elastic band of her underwear. She moved even closer so she felt the hardness
of his erection pressing into her most sensitive place, and she buried her head
in his shoulder, shifting her body as if that alone could ease the building
ache inside of her.

 
          
Jacob
eased her jeans over her hips, pushing aside his own clothing so nothing
prevented their perfect joining. His hands clasped her hips as he entered her,
and his lips grazed her jaw, nudging her to look at him. She lifted her head
and met his gaze straight on, amazed at both the pleasure and the power of
their united bodies, the deep sense of satisfaction that was as emotional as it
was physical, the feeling of completeness that overwhelmed her so she was
robbed of words or even thoughts save one.

 
          
Home
.
This was
home.

 
          
An
hour later they were in Paris. Mollie had ducked back into the bathroom to
rearrange her clothing and hair, wryly noting her flushed cheeks and swollen
lips. Her eyes glowed with an inner light, and she knew nothing could disguise
what had just happened. She looked like a woman who had been loved.

 
          
A
limousine was waiting for them as they left the airport, and within minutes
they were speeding away towards the centre of the city.

 
          
‘Where
are we going?’ Mollie asked, and Jacob just smiled. Mollie shook her head.
‘All these secrets.’

 
          
‘No,
no secrets,’ he told her. ‘Just surprises.’

 
          
He
took her to an exclusive hotel, and a concierge led them up to the executive
suite, with its acres of plush cream carpet and a king-size bed piled high with
silk pillows that Mollie knew they would put to good use.

 
          
As
the concierge quietly closed the door, she spun to face Jacob, her hands on her
hips. ‘I’m wearing jeans.’

 
          
He
just smiled, jangling the keys in his pocket. ‘I told you I took care of everything.’

 
          
And
he had. A few minutes later Mollie heard a knock on the door, and a young woman
in a crisp white uniform told her she was ready for her spa treatments.

 
          
Instinctively
Mollie glanced down at her grime-encrusted nails. She’d never even had a manicure,
and for good reason. The woman glanced briefly at her workmanlike hands and
smiled sweetly.

 
          
‘Nothing
is too much, mademoiselle. You will enjoy, you’ll see.’

 
          
And
she did. Three hours of manicures, massages and a plethora of other treatments
left her feeling new and shiny, as if her very skin sparkled.
As if she really was full of bubbles, floating down the hallway.

 
          
And
then she saw the dresses.

 
          
Half
a dozen haute couture gowns were laid out in the bedroom, and Mollie almost
didn’t want to touch all that silk and satin, afraid she’d get them dirty. Then
she realised she wouldn’t, because she was as clean and shiny as a freshly
minted penny. She picked one and held it to
her,
let
her breath out in a slow hiss.

 
          
‘That
one is lovely,’ another uniformed assistant said crisply, bustling into the
room. ‘But I think the brown one will suit your colouring better.’

 
          
‘Brown?’
Mollie dropped the pink satin gown she’d been
clutching. Who really wanted to wear a brown dress?

 
          
Except this dress wasn’t brown at all.
It was taupe,
shimmering, with a ruche of cream ruffles at the daringly low neckline, and a
halter neck tied with cream silk ribbon.
When she slid the
dress on, she felt nearly naked, only better.
The dress clung.

 
          
She
stared at herself in the mirror, amazed at how her curves had been accentuated.
She had never even realised she had a figure like this. She’d never worn a
dress like this.

 
          
‘Parfait,’
the woman said, and dumbly
Mollie nodded. This whole day was
parfait
.

 
          
Next
came
hair, her now-lustrous waves pulled into a sleek
coil at the nape of her neck, and then make-up, finished with a dusting of
shimmery powder, and finally Mollie slid on a pair of diamond-encrusted
stilettos. The assistant handed her a matching beaded clutch and a wrap of
spangled silk in the same creamy taupe as her dress.