Lone Wolfe (3 page)

 
          
Jacob
continued to look at her, his expression considering. His gaze swept over the
cluttered room, seeming to rest on various telling items: her father’s boots,
his pipe, her suitcase. ‘You have somewhere to go,’ he said, more of a
statement than a question.

 
          
‘I
want to let a place in the village,’ Mollie said. It was not precisely a
confirmation, because she did not in fact have any arrangements made. Jacob
must have realised this, for his gaze sharpened as it rested on her; it felt
like a razor.

 
          
‘And
what will you do with yourself? Do you have a job?’

 
          
Mollie
bit her lip. ‘I run a gardening business,’ she admitted reluctantly. ‘But I’m
hoping to expand into landscaping and garden design.’

 
          
‘Oh?’
His eyebrows arched as he took in this information. Then he nodded once,
briskly, as if coming to a decision. ‘Well, in that case perhaps we can come to
a mutually beneficial arrangement.’

 
          
Mollie
stared at him in bewilderment. She could not imagine how anything between them
could be mutually beneficial. ‘I don’t—’

 
          
‘If
you’d like to stay in the cottage,’ Jacob cut across her, ‘you can earn your
bed and board. You’ll work for me.’

 
          
HE
REMEMBERED her now. She’d followed him—all of them—when they were younger,
gap-toothed and tousle-haired, peeking at him and his brothers and sister from
the tangled limbs of a tree or behind a hedge. She’d barely registered on his
radar; he’d had seven siblings to protect and provide for. The gardener’s
daughter had been completely outside his authority or interest.

 
          
More
recently he’d seen her image plastered over the walls of Annabelle’s room. His
sister must have taken Mollie Parker’s photograph a hundred times. And he could
see why: with her pale skin and tumbling, auburn hair, she possessed a Titian
beauty that seemed almost otherworldly, especially considering how he’d
stumbled upon her in this enchanted little place. It had taken a moment to
connect this flashily dressed interloper with the laughing, graceful girl on
his sister’s bedroom walls, but now Jacob recognised the tumbling curls and
creamy skin. She was beautiful, stylish, and he had no idea why she would be in
this place.
On his property.

 
          
Why
had Mollie Parker gone off to Italy the moment her father had died? Why had she
returned? And what was he going to do with her now? The look of uncertainty and
fear in those soft, pansy-brown eyes annoyed him, because he didn’t want to
deal with it. He didn’t want to deal with the outraged Miss Mollie Parker. He
had enough to worry about, managing the renovation and sale of Wolfe Manor, and
attempting, as best as he could, to repair his fractured family. Concerning
himself with a stranger’s well-being was not on his agenda. He didn’t need the
feeling those proud yet pleading eyes stirred in him: something between
curiosity and compassion, something real and alive. He hadn’t felt anything
like that in … years. Nineteen years.

 
          
And
he wasn’t about to feel it again.

 
          
He
watched her gaze steal to the boots by the door. Her father’s boots, he
suspected. Seven months on, she would still be grieving. He felt an
uncomfortable jab in his conscience as he realised he could have been more
sensitive; the unexpectedness of her presence, and her vulnerability, had
caught him on the raw. For a single moment, with her fancy clothes and her trip
to Italy, he’d assumed the worst. It had not taken long to realise his mistake,
but then, it never did.

 
          
Still,
Jacob didn’t want to have to deal with her. Think of her. Be affected by her.
And yet something in her eyes reached out to him, spoke to him, and despite his
misgivings and even his fear, he answered that silent call.

 
          
He
would help her and at the same time assuage his own conscience. He’d given her
the commission of a lifetime.

 
          
‘Work
for you?’ Mollie repeated incredulously. She felt another sharp stab of anger.
‘My father worked for you for fifty years, and for the past fifteen he didn’t
even get a pay cheque.’

 
          
Jacob
stilled. Mollie realised she’d surprised him. She wondered if he’d thought of
her father at all in the past nineteen years. He obviously hadn’t concerned
himself for a moment with her. ‘I’m not talking about your father,’ he replied
after a moment. ‘You are the one in need of a place to stay, and I happen to be
in need of—’

 
          
‘I
won’t be your maid.
Or your cook.
Or—’

 
          
‘Landscape
designer?’ Jacob finished softly. Mollie almost thought she heard laughter
lurking in his voice. She must have imagined it, she decided, for Jacob’s
expression was as coldly foreboding as ever.

 
          
‘Landscape
designer?’ she repeated, testing the words. ‘You can’t—’

 
          
‘You
told me you were planning to start a garden design business. And I happen to
need someone to landscape the estate’s gardens.’

 
          
Mollie
blinked, realisation dawning. ‘That’s—that’s a huge job,’ she replied faintly.

 
          
Jacob
lifted one shoulder in an indifferent shrug.

 
          
‘So?’

 
          
‘But
…
a job like
that.’ She paused, her heart beating with
sudden, frantic desperation. She didn’t want to disqualify herself for such an
amazing opportunity, but her own conscience required that she explain to Jacob
the absurdity of what he was suggesting. ‘An offer like that should go to a
much more experienced landscaper,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s a huge commission.’

 
          
‘I
know,’ Jacob replied drily. ‘And you do too, apparently, yet you’re throwing it
away with both hands.’

 
          
‘Why
are you asking me?’ Mollie persisted. She could not fathom why Jacob Wolfe,
after so many years away, would now offer her such a huge commission, and
without even reviewing a CV or reference! Looking into his cold, hard eyes, he
did not seem like a man to be moved by pity. So what did he want?

 
          
‘Because
you’re here,’ Jacob replied, his voice edged with impatience, ‘and I need a
landscape designer. I also need to turn around this place quickly, and I don’t
have time to trawl through endless CVs of hopeful gardeners.’

 
          
‘Turn
around?’ Mollie repeated. ‘You’re
selling
Wolfe Manor?’

 
          
Jacob’s
mouth curved in a smile that was both bitter and mocking; there was nothing
warm or funny or even human about it. Yet somehow the sight of that cruel
little smile made Mollie feel only sad. No one should smile like that. She
couldn’t even imagine the feelings that lay behind it, inside him. ‘Too much
space for just one person,’ he said softly.

 
          
Heat
flooded her face as she recalled the words she’d thrown at him.
You don’t have enough space up at the manor
.
Well, she’d been angry. And she still didn’t know what Jacob Wolfe was about.
Was he doing her a favour? Was this really
pity?
The thought made her want to throw the commission right back in his face, even
if it was the stupidest thing she’d ever do in her life. ‘Still—’

 
          
‘It’s
late,’ Jacob cut her off. ‘And frankly, when I went for a relaxing midnight
stroll, intruders were not on my mind. If you’re so concerned about your own
abilities, you can show me some initial designs tomorrow.’ He turned to the
door he’d so unceremoniously kicked in just moments before. ‘And if you don’t,
you can start packing tonight.’

 
          
Mollie
watched him leave, his tall frame swallowed up by the darkness, and she sagged
against the fireplace hearth. She glanced at the cosy glow she’d created
moments before; all that was left was smoking ash.

 
          
Her
mind spun in dizzying circles. It was all too much to process: coming back
home, seeing her father’s things, meeting Jacob Wolfe again and now this
commission … The past and the present had come together with an almighty crash.

 
          
Sighing
wearily, Mollie pushed her tumbled thoughts to the back of her already
disordered mind and, after closing the door—Jacob had as good as vanished into
the night—she retrieved her torch and headed upstairs. It didn’t matter that
there was no light, or water, or even food in the non-working refrigerator.
There were sheets on the bed, only a little musty and damp, and she was
exhausted.

 
          
Kicking
off her Italian leather boots, shedding the clothes that she’d never truly felt
comfortable in, Mollie tumbled into bed and then gratefully, blissfully, into
sleep.

 
          
She
woke to bright summer sunlight streaming in through the diamond-paned windows
of her bedroom. She blinked, groggily, yet within seconds it all came crashing
back: the cottage, the job,
Jacob
.

 
          
She
leaned back against her pillow and closed her eyes, yet the image of Jacob
danced before her closed lids. He’d looked so much older, so much more rugged
and weary somehow. What had he been doing for the past nineteen years? Why had
he come back now? Was he in need of a little cash? Was that why he was selling
Wolfe Manor?

 
          
Mollie
told herself not to rush to conclusions. She’d thrown enough accusations at
Jacob last night. She’d tried and judged him years ago, even when Annabelle,
who as his younger sister had far more cause, had not. Annabelle, when she’d
talked of her family, which had been rarely, had always seemed willing to
forgive Jacob, to assume the best.

 
          
Last
night Mollie had assumed the worst.

 
          
Had
Annabelle seen Jacob? Did she know he was back? Did any of the Wolfe siblings
know?
So many questions.
So few
answers.
And, Mollie acknowledged, sighing, none of it really concerned
her anyway. She’d always danced on the farthest fringes of the Wolfe family,
watching as Jacob and Lucas took their younger siblings out for a picnic, or
played hide-and-seek amidst the vast grounds. No one had ever known she existed,
until Jacob had left and Annabelle, scarred both inside and out, had retreated
to the manor, refusing to show her face in public again. Then Mollie had been a
friend, because she didn’t have any others.

 
          
But
the other Wolfes—Jacob included—had never so much as looked in her direction.
And they’d never considered what it would mean to her or her father to let
Wolfe Manor fall into such desperate disrepair.

 
          
Shrugging
these thoughts away, Mollie got out of bed. Now was the time to think of the
future, not the past. Jacob Wolfe wanted some landscaping designs by the end of
today, and she’d give them to him. Mollie didn’t know when she’d decided to
accept the commission; but when she’d awakened in the morning she realised she
already knew. This was too important to throw away in a moment of pique or
pride, and there was something redemptive, something
right
, about restoring Wolfe Manor’s gardens to their former glory.
She wasn’t doing it for Jacob, or even for herself. She was doing it for her
dad.

 
          
She
pulled on her old gardening clothes—jeans and a worn button-down shirt of her
father’s—and tied her hair up in a careless knot. No point impressing Jacob
Wolfe with her stylish new clothes. He hadn’t looked impressed last night, and
the effort would be useless considering without water she couldn’t even have a
shower or so much as brush her teeth. Armed with her notebook and a couple of
pencils, Mollie put on her wellies and headed outside.

 
          
It
was one of those freshly minted days of early summer, when the trees,
impossibly green, glinted with sunlight, and every furled flower was spangled
with diamond dewdrops. Mollie took several deep breaths, filling her lungs with
the fresh, damp morning air. She felt a rush of feelings: happiness,
homesickness, sorrow and hope. Excitement too, as she left the cottage’s little
garden for the unkempt acres beyond.