* * * *
When Ellie woke the next morning, there was no sign of movement from Henry. She poured a bowl of cereal, and when she opened a drawer to look for a spoon, she discovered the flier she’d sent.
Does your life need a breath of fresh air? Need help making your dreams a reality? I’ll work with you toward your professional and personal goals. I can make your world what you want it to be.
Could she change their world? It wasn’t only Jago she wanted to help, but Henry and Denzel, though Jago’s brother needed to grow up. She sat at the kitchen table and thought about what Henry had told her last night. He’d talked a lot, and when he’d said she was a good listener, Ellie had smiled. Listening was much easier than answering awkward questions. He’d made her laugh with stories about Denzel and Jago when they were boys, but she could see how much he worried about them, especially Jago. Denzel might have been the type of guy to pick up a snake because it looked cute, but Jago’s problems were right on Henry’s doorstep.
The more she listened, the more she realized the mess she’d walked into. Henry felt trapped in a time warp, unable to move on. Much as he loved the place, he didn’t want to stay here on his own, doing the same thing until he died, watching Jago struggle to keep his head above water. He wanted to see something of the world. He’d told her he had barely enough money to support himself and the gardens for another six months.
She’d been shocked when he’d told her he’d paid the death duties after Jago’s parents had died. Where had he found the money? If he’d used the Kewen, Ellie would have surely seen it come onto the market. Plus the jewels were worth a lot more than the tax bill. So however Henry had raised the money, it was unlikely to have been by selling the Kewen.
Ellie dressed in her denim shorts, pink T-shirt, and pink shoes and quietly let herself out. According to Henry, the garden was as old as the house, and while intervening centuries had wrought their changes, much of the land immediately around the building was under the same use as when it’d first been planned. There were eleven acres of small gardens each with a distinct identity, and Ellie thought the place was lovely.
She made her way along the gravel path and cut in through the gate in the yew hedge that led to the kitchen gardens beyond. Henry said he’d been working in the herb bed, and she decided to carry on where he’d left off. Getting into his good books would improve her chances of making a better impression on Jago.
A lump formed in her throat at the thought of the guy. How was she supposed to get through to him when he wouldn’t even confide in Henry? Jago bottled everything up and had been the same as a little boy, while Denzel, on the other hand, didn’t appear to have an off button and never listened, particularly to advice.
Henry worried that Jago’s growing desperation over the state of the hall had made him unbalanced. He was a trained doctor but never even talked about medicine anymore. According to Henry, he never talked about anything. Ellie had seen and heard an example of Jago’s bad temper yesterday. She hadn’t missed the crash inside the hall, or the shards of pottery on the floor.
She worked quickly, pulling out weeds, tidying the shapes of the plants, careful not to hurt any of the bugs she found. How was she going to get through to Jago? If the guy really was becoming more unreadable every day, what could she do that Henry couldn’t?
“Morning, Ellie.”
She turned and beamed at Henry as she rose to her feet. “Good morning.”
“Are you superhuman, or have you had help from James and Gavin?”
Damn, I’ve done too much. “I haven’t seen anyone. I was awake early, and after you’d talked about the herbs last night, I thought I’d come and give you a hand.”
Henry scratched his head. “I thought there was more to do. You’ve even raked the gravel and put a twisty pattern in it.” He laughed. “Fantastic.”
She kept her gaze away from the large heap of weeds. Hopefully the gravel had distracted him.
“I think I talked too much last night,” he said. “I had a horrible feeling I’d wake up and find you’d run off.”
“I like a challenge.”
“You’re in the right place then. I just hope Sharwood doesn’t get you down. It feels like a black cloud hanging over us at the moment.”
“I brought the sunshine.”
He glanced up and smiled. “You did. Sharwood looks different when it’s not raining.”
“I can’t believe you’ve worked here since you were twenty-one.”
Henry crouched by a rosemary bush. “Yep, straight from agricultural college, assistant to the head gardener. I wasn’t the first in my family to work here.”
“You said your father was a mining engineer.”
“He was adamant he wouldn’t work here. His grandfather had, and his father before him, and Dad pleaded with me to be an engineer like him, but gardens have always been in my blood.”
Ellie lifted another handful of weeds onto the pile. “Why do you think your father didn’t want you working here?”
“Because the Lord Carlyle of the time was a miserable bastard—excuse my language. I remember my grandfather complaining about him.”
“What was Jago’s father like?”
“Another miserable bas—man.” He sighed. “I was in awe of Lord and Lady Carlyle when I started to work here. The awe didn’t last long in the case of his lordship, who was a bullying, cantankerous pain in the…backside. How I resisted popping him one I’ll never know, but Rebecca, Lady Carlyle, Jago’s mother—well, she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.”
“Where Jago gets his good looks?”
Ellie didn’t miss the flicker that crossed Henry’s face.
“Yes, definitely from her. Lady Carlyle was graceful, had the most beautiful eyes, and her smile could light up a room. She never looked down on me, never treated me badly. Unlike her husband. Hard to do anything right for him. Maybe all the men of this family grow up to be miserable.” Henry stopped working and stared straight at her. “I don’t want that for Jago.”
“I know,” Ellie whispered.
“He’s given up a job he loves, taken responsibility for his feckless brother who was spoiled by his mother, and now he shoulders the burden of Sharwood, spoiled by his father. From the moment Jago came to live here, he began to unravel. Maybe it’s this place. Unraveling was the word Lady Carlyle used to describe her husband after his father died.”
“What happened to Jago’s parents?”
Henry clenched and then unclenched his fists. “Car accident. Lord Carlyle had come to tell me he was going to sell the place. He introduced me to the man who was going to buy Sharwood, and I took an instant dislike to him. I intended to resign. Rebecca…Lady Carlyle went with her husband and the other man to York to celebrate the deal they were going to sign. Lord Carlyle crashed the car on a straight road in perfect conditions and killed all three of them.”
Ellie gulped.
“I never told Jago about the sale. His mother hadn’t wanted him to know until it was done and dusted. She loved these gardens. Said it was where she felt most peaceful.”
He’d loved her. Ellie chewed her lip. “I bet people would pay to come and look round. Do you ever have open days?”
“We used to, but haven’t for years. When Jago’s parents were younger, they threw a party every July and invited the village.”
“You could open to the public, sell tickets, provide refreshments, maybe even have entertainment for the children. The garden’s such a valuable resource; it seems crazy not to use it. You should have been opening it before now.”
He shuffled his feet. “I don’t know if anyone would want to come. Jago’s brother upset the locals when he turned this place into party central. Rock music blaring out, naked bodies all over the place, people throwing up in the village and being rude, roads jammed with traffic, lots of alcohol and drugs.”
“You forgot the satanic worship and animal sacrifices.” Jago sauntered toward them.
Ellie gaped at his black eye and the graze on his cheek.
“Christ, what happened to you?” Henry asked.
Jago’s gaze slid to Ellie’s legs before he looked back to Henry. “I need to talk to you,” Jago muttered.
“Then talk.”
Jago tightened his mouth.
“Say what you have to say. Ellie’s going to be staying with me for a while. She’s done more work this morning than I managed in two days. She’s had a good idea about opening the garden to raise money for Sharwood, and if you’d listened to what she had to say yesterday, you’d realize she can help you too. And what the hell happened to your face?”
“I fell over.”
“Into a fist? Tell me you weren’t fighting.”
“I wasn’t fighting.” Jago thrust a crumpled piece of paper into Henry’s hand. Henry flattened it out, and as he read, Jago paced.
“A faerie wedding?” Henry rolled his eyes.
Ellie dropped the trowel on her foot and gave a loud yelp.
“You okay?” Henry asked.
She nodded.
“Can we use flowers out of the garden?” Jago asked. “The baron’s hall is fine for the reception if we fill it with color.”
“The flowers are no problem. We can even supply some food items for the caterers, but it’s short notice to find anyone to take that on, and alcohol will be an issue.” He turned to Ellie. “Jago’s brother wants to get married here in August, but he’s conveniently swanning around in South America and leaving us to do it all.”
“I can help,” Ellie said and took off her gardening gloves.
“Got thirty bottles of champagne anywhere?” Jago snapped. “Who are you anyway? What are you doing here?”
“I…make dreams a reality.”
Jago gave a derisive snort. “Thank God for that. So I can stop worrying about a leaking roof, how to afford a plasterer, and where I’m going to find the money for ten double beds?”
“Give her a chance, Jago. How can a fresh set of eyes hurt?”
“Show me round the hall, Lord Carlyle,” Ellie said. “Tell me what you’re trying to achieve, and I’ll draw up an action plan.”
“An action plan? Right. We’ll start with my bedroom. You can test my bed.” He advanced on her, and Ellie stood her ground.
“Is it a four-poster?” she asked.
“No, but there’s one in the room next door.”
“Do you have handcuffs?”
“I prefer a whip.” He smirked.
She smiled at him. “Fine. How many lashes would you like, Lord Carlyle?”
Jago gaped and Henry laughed.
“COME ON THEN,” Jago muttered as he strode away. “Might as well get this over with.” And then you can run back where you came from.
Except he didn’t want her to do that. Those legs went on forever, and he was having a hard time not imagining them wrapped around his neck. Actually, he was having a hard time period. He pulled his shirt out of his pants and let it hang loose.
Ellie caught up and walked at his side. “I hope that’s not a line you use in bed. Might as well get this over with.”
He resisted the impulse to chuckle.
“I know you’re under pressure and feel things are hopeless. I understand because I’ve felt like that too. I can help. I promise.”
No, you can’t. Well, maybe you can but not in the way you’re thinking. He stuck his hand in his pocket and adjusted his overoptimistic cock currently trying to find a way through his zipper.
“What shall I call you? My lord? Your Highness? Lord High Executioner?”
“Master is fine.”
She laughed. “So you do have a sense of humor.”
“I wasn’t joking.”
“But I was about the whip.”
“Arrgh. That was the sound of my heart breaking.”
He walked faster, and she had to hurry to keep up. “Oh all right then. There’s always a first time. If you stand still and stick something out, I’ll try to wrap the whip around it.”
“I hope you’re thinking of a cigarette, and doesn’t the whip usually snap it in half? Anyway, I don’t smoke.”
“I don’t mind trying with a body part if you don’t.”
His laugh escaped. She was funny, and despite himself he felt brighter. She hadn’t solved anything and wasn’t likely to unless he could persuade her into bed, but she amused him.
When they reached the front of the house, she stopped at the foot of the steps, leaned on his griffin, stroked it under the chin, and sighed as she looked up. “You are so lucky.”
“Lucky?” He gaped at her.
“That I’m here to help.”
Her mouth curved up, and it was impossible not to smile back, though if she knew what he wanted to do to her, she wouldn’t be smiling.
She tucked her hands in the pockets of her shorts. “Keep your mind open to all possibilities. Can you do that? A completely open mind?”
Jago nodded. He was open to the possibility of showing her his bed, inviting her to inspect it, demonstrating how comfortable it was with two people, but no whip.
“Show me the whole house, top to bottom, cellars too and out buildings. Closets, bathrooms, secret passageways, dungeons, oubliettes, wine cellars, ruins, corners where the ghosts lurk, places where you chain up dragons.”
“What?”
She grinned. “Just testing. Tell me what needs to be done and what the obstacles are to doing it.”
I need to fuck you, and the only obstacle is you saying no. Jago dragged his mind out of the gutter. “I can do that without showing you anything. One word. Short and simple. Cash. If I had the money, I could do everything.”
She halted on the top step and stared at him. “Okay, imagine you had the cash and the house was renovated. Would you want to live here on your own?”
Jago opened the front door and gestured for her to go in. “Interesting question.”
“Got an interesting answer?”
He closed the door behind her and headed for the stairs. “The house is too big for me.”
“Even if some desperate woman took pity on you and you ended up with several children, four dogs, a pony, and a pet elephant?”
He stifled his laugh. “Yes, even then. Maybe my brother and his wife-to-be will want to live here. Even if they did, there’d still be a lot of rooms unused.”
“Why renovate them if they’re not to be used?”
“Because…the building deserves it. It’s been left to decay, and I feel…responsible.” God, I hate that fucking word.
“It’s not your fault,” she said in a gentle voice.
“So what? It makes no difference whose fault it is. This is what I’ve been left with.” He flung out his arms. “This is my life. I can’t walk away.”
“No one’s blaming you. We all do the best we can and—”
“How much did Henry tell you?”
“That the place had been run down by your father, and that you hadn’t spoken to him in years. That’s all. Oh and that four people lodge here at the moment, and they’re supposed to be helping with the renovations, but mostly you do it on your own. I wouldn’t let him tell me any more. I wanted to see for myself.”
He sucked in his cheeks.
“What about converting more sections of the house into apartments? Using the rent from one to pay for the work on another?”
“Don’t you think I’ve thought of that? Apart from the small detail that I have no money to do it, it’s not pleasant for people living here if work is constantly going on around them.”
“Then sell to someone who can do all the work at once.”
Jago slammed to a stop halfway and swiveled round. “Do you work for Preston?”
She furrowed her brow. “Who’s he?”
Her innocent look didn’t mean a thing.
“A property developer who wants to buy this place.” Jago continued to the top floor.
“I don’t work for a property developer.�
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“I don’t want to sell,” he muttered. He did and he didn’t. It had become a personal battle between him and the house.
“You might have to. If all this becomes too much to handle, there might be no other option. Why don’t you sell but have it put in the contract that you keep a suite of rooms for yourself and maybe one for your brother?”
Something Preston suggested, and Jago still wondered if she worked for him.
“Because the integrity of the building would be lost. It wouldn’t be Sharwood Hall anymore but just a converted country house. It’s been in my family for four hundred years. I don’t want to be the one who loses it.”
“But is it feasible to keep it as a home? Fantastic house that it is, it’s anachronistic to want to live here in the way your ancestors used to, unless you’re a billionaire.”
“I don’t have to be a billionaire,” he snapped.
“But there’s no income. What sustained these houses in the past was the income from land, but the land’s all gone, and nothing has taken its place. Even if by some miracle you managed to find the money to restore every part of it, how will you run it?”
“I hope you’re not going to suggest I open an out-of-Africa experience, an adventure playground or an amusement park.”
“Taking my cue from the way you’re sneering, no, though an adventure playground would pull in parents with kids. But you already have a possible source of income with the grounds. Henry says your parents occasionally let the public in. Why not do it on a regular basis? Why not consider opening some rooms to the public and sharing the others with lodgers, businesses, or charities?”
Jago spun round to face her. “You make it sound easy. It’s not. This is my home.”
“It’s your prison,” she said.
He swallowed hard.
As they moved from room to room on the top floor and Jago pointed out the broken molding, cracked plaster, rotten floorboards, and a whole catalog of problems that never seemed to get any shorter, it began to sink deeper into his head that he was trying to climb Everest without ropes or oxygen. He’d been blinded by the challenge of it, obligation and obsession becoming confused, and was still plodding on when he needed to stop and think about whether even achieving the summit was worth it. She was right. What was the ultimate plan? He’d been so busy negotiating obstacles he hadn’t looked beyond.
Jumping in Puddles Page 5
