“It’s good that the weather has held for everyone’s journey,” she said finally.
“Are we resorting to discuss the weather? We never had to before.”
“It’s been ten years, Jack.”
His heart pounded at hearing her call him Jack. After he’d served his sentence, he’d insisted that people call him Jackson. He’d wanted to distance himself from the part of himself that had screwed up so badly. To hear it now was like having every memory of her, and of his mistake, rip through his body.
“Can we talk about it?” he asked softly.
“What would it achieve?” she asked with a sad smile.
“I miss you.”
She frowned at his words and he decided to hold his tongue. There was so much he wanted to say but now wasn’t the time. Instead he let himself enjoy simply holding her in his arms as he led her through the steps of the dance and enjoyed the way she had slowly eased closer to him. There would be time enough to plead his case.
****
When Jackson’s colleague Celia came to say her good-byes, Amory jumped at the chance for some distance from Jackson and walked with the older woman, making sure she was bundled safely into the car that was waiting to take her home.
Taking a deep breath of the cold air as she watched Celia climb into the vehicle, she tried to find her balance. Dancing with Jackson she had tried to hold her space, but despite his relaxed hold her boundaries had all but vanished as the heat from his hands had spread through her body and she’d found herself leaning into him. The chill was a welcome respite from the flames building inside of her.
As she closed the heavy front door and turned to head back to the ball, she looked to see Jackson leaning against the doorway to the ballroom. His body was silhouetted by the flickering lights from within. With his face cast in shadow she couldn’t see his expression, but she could feel his eyes on her. He shifted and started to move. Looking to the side she spotted a group gathered in the library and almost sprinted across the hallway. Now wasn’t the time to deal with Jackson. Not with the sensations of his hands on her, his eyes holding hers as she danced in his arms consuming her.
Smiling at the gathered group and realizing with relief that Berishka and Novak were part of it, she let herself relax. Looking around the room she realized that nothing had been changed for tonight’s guests. As one of the rooms that was actually used by the family, it was showing signs of age and wear and there had been no effort to disguise that fact. Rooms like the formal sitting room were spectacularly decorated but didn’t have a hint of comfort. The rigid sofas and clearly untouched knickknacks were carefully positioned for display marking them as purely for the tourists. Those rooms screamed “hands off,” whereas the library exuded comfort and welcome.
With so many people onsite she wasn’t going to get very far with Berishka and Novak, but at least they were drinking when finally the other guests left.
“Let me top that off for you,” she said, adding a sway to her hips as she moved around the room.
As she tilted the decanter to fill Berishka’s glass, she leaned forward a little further than necessary, trying to give him something to look at that would distract him from how much she was pouring into his glass. As she straightened, his attention lifted from her cleavage to her eyes and he gave her a smile that contained nothing pleasant.
“Thank you, Olivia.”
She fought to hold back her shudder and forced a returning smile as she backed away.
Turning, she met Jackson’s gaze as he watched the interaction, his jaw clenched tight. She imagined she could feel the anger vibrating off of him and wondered how the others weren’t picking up on it. Well, he could judge all he liked, she had to get Berishka to open up and that meant making sure he saw what he expected to—a compliant woman who wasn’t any kind of threat to him. Combine that with the amount of alcohol he’d sunk over the evening and he might let his guard down. Just one incriminating sentence, that was all she needed. The telltale droop in his mouth and eyes suggested that he was close to succumbing, although unfortunately he wasn’t saying anything of consequence.
She glanced back at Jackson who was watching her with hooded eyes. Damn it, she knew exactly why Marek wasn’t saying anything. He wouldn’t worry about her, but Jackson was another matter. Even if he didn’t have the sort of presence you couldn’t forget about, no one was going to say anything of consequence in front of him. She wasn’t going to get anything tonight that the recording devices would pick up. Deciding to cut her losses, she placed the decanter on the sideboard.
“Thanks for a lovely evening, gentlemen. If you don’t mind, William, I’m going to call it a night.”
“Of course, Olivia. Thank you for your assistance today.”
She probably should stick around but she’d been in the job long enough to know when she was done.
Closing the door firmly behind her as she left, she breathed a sigh of relief as it clicked shut, grateful not only that she’d gotten through the evening unscathed, but also at being able to put some distance between herself and Jackson’s foul mood. Having hardly touched a drink all night, he didn’t even have the alcohol to blame. Why anyone thought balls were exciting and romantic was a mystery. She was knackered and her feet hurt.
Her relief was short-lived, as she had barely taken two steps from the door when it flew open. Slamming it behind him, Jackson stalked over to her, and ignoring her gasp of surprise he grabbed her upper arm and dragged her stumbling around the corner. They made it to the bottom of the stairs before he pushed her against the darkly papered wall, his look so intense she wasn’t sure if he was going to hit her or kiss her. Seemingly wrestling with the decision himself, he leaned forward and roughly devoured her lips with his as he trapped her against the wall with his body.
She held herself stiff as he pressed his entire body against her, only the rapid rise and fall of her chest giving away her own internal struggle. Despite her best intentions her body slowly softened, melting against his, and when a gentle sigh of pleasure slipped out he released her arms, slipping his own around her waist and arching her toward him.
Her own muddled emotions dissolved into the hungry desperate kiss he had started. The kiss was nothing like they had shared before, containing all the raw anger and frustration generated by the evening, creating a possessiveness that sent her libido sky high. She tugged desperately at his shirt to pull it free from his trousers and extended that possession to his bare skin.
She was dragging her hands across his taut stomach when he froze. Suddenly vulnerable, her eyes flew open and she met Jackson’s gaze in shock as she realized the source of his concern. Voices were drifting toward them. Company was on its way. She was a trained professional, yet she’d dissolved into the kiss and lost focus so thoroughly that she’d been completely unaware of her surroundings until Jackson had stilled. What was wrong with her? There was too much on the line for her to let her libido take over.
This time she grabbed his arm, pulling him into the closet they had been leaning next to. It was packed with jackets and old shoes and they had to push their way in. The dirt on the floor from old Wellington boots crunched even as they stilled. The sound seemed to echo through the small closet. A musty smell permeated the small space, bitter and unwelcome.
Hearts racing, they stood pressed together in the dark amongst the jackets, and he rested his forehead on hers and whispered, “Can you stop flirting with that ass? I don’t think I can take much more of it.”
Incredulous, she pulled her head back, staring where she imagined Jackson was looking down at her in the darkness. The sharp, warm taste of his whiskey was still on her lips as she registered his words.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. We get hot and heavy in your hallway because you’re jealous?”
“I am not jealous,” he said, the words coming out in a hiss. “I just hate seeing you flirt with the sort of jerk who can’t look above your chest.”
“I wasn’t flir
ting. I was doing my job,” she said, her words coming out as a hiss. She knew she was blowing his comment out of proportion but couldn’t seem to stop herself. She’d let her guard down and that left her feeling vulnerable and defensive.
“Felt like flirting to me.”
“How dare you.”
Anger overtook her embarrassment at being so unprofessional, his words killing the need that feeling his warm breath on her neck had been fueling. It didn’t matter that he was right, he didn’t have any say over what she did. If he really thought she would do something like that without good reason, then he was a jerk.
Shoving the jackets out of her way with a clatter of coat hangers, she barged out of the cupboard without any thought for who might be passing and stormed up to her room to consume all the chocolate available.
This was becoming a habit, she thought. She firmly pulled the lock on her bedroom door. Until she’d come here, the last time she’d hidden in her room she’d been at school and still living with her parents, and now she seemed to be doing it on an hourly basis.
Chapter Twenty
After a sleepless night Jackson had risen early, hoping that the two-hour ride to his site would ease his frustrations. But as his bike roared down the dirt track, his hands were still gripping the handles so tightly that he could feel his muscles ache as they seized in position. Normally, being on his bike when the roads were quiet was a pleasure like no other for clearing his head, the solitude, clear air, and inability to let his mind wander the perfect solution for any problem. Not this time though. He was beginning to wonder if anything would get Amory out of his head.
Pulling off his helmet, he shook his head to shift the hair that had stuck to his neck and took a deep breath of the dawn air. It was winter and the first trip of the spring was still a few weeks away which meant he would have the place to himself. Bypassing the cabin that was now his home, he let himself into the office, and dumping his bike leathers, slumped on the couch that ran along one wall, savoring the woody smell.
His office was sparse but there were tons of photos pinned everywhere of him, his team, and the groups of young offenders who were sent to the camp for survival training. The camps weren’t as harsh as the army but were incredibly successful at getting through to them. As he took in the pictures he smiled. He’d been completely aimless for the first few months after his spell inside, but when he’d met Celia she had given him faith in himself and had helped him direct his energies into something that could make a real difference in people’s lives. People who, like him, had lost their way and needed to know that a right choice was available, if they were strong enough to take it.
Shoulders stiff from his ride and unable to just sit around, Jackson headed out to the clearing at the back. Shifting a stack of heavy branches next to his chopping block, he heaved the axe with a grunt of satisfaction, the thud as the blade connected with the wood quickly giving way to the sound of wood splintering as the first one split. Building into a steady rhythm, the rise and fall of the axe created a familiar soundtrack as his thoughts wandered into unfamiliar territory.
He’d thought last night’s dinner had been painful enough, but watching Amory dance with Pavol and then acting all girly as she’d waited on them hand and foot had been pure torture. She’d simpered at every inane and sexist comment that spewed from Marek’s mouth. God, she’d smack him around the head if he’d even thought such ridiculous things, never mind been stupid enough to say them out loud. It was like she’d been an entirely different person.
Between her personality change and watching those men stare at her like property, the urge to punch one of them had pulsed deep inside. The satisfaction of imagining the responding crunch of snapping bone as his fist connected with their noses was barely enough to keep him from acting. When they’d commented on her ass as she’d left the room for bed he’d snapped. He’d needed to confront someone. Hitting William’s guests wasn’t a good idea, so fists clenched, he left the room without a word. Amory could take some truths instead. She had no idea what these type of men were like. With her easy confidence she’d seemed oblivious of the effect she was having on them, or the danger she was in. He’d had every intention of illuminating her but instead his raging desire for her had taken over.
Despite the lack of sleep, his body was fizzing with raw energy and he pushed all of his frustrations into splitting the wood into logs. At least this was a practical outlet for everything he was feeling. At the rate he was going, he’d have enough wood to keep the building heated through the next winter, never mind what was left of this one. Pulling his dress shirt over his head, he wiped the sweat from his face and neck. Definitely not the right clothing for the job and definitely ruined, he thought without any real concern. Tossing the shirt to the side he turned his attention back to his task.
“Jackson?”
He straightened at the sound of Celia’s voice. He hadn’t expected anyone to be in today and forced a smile as she appeared from around the side of the building.
“Okay, there’s the face of a man who needs coffee!” Celia remarked, the gentle smile on her face betraying her concern. “I’ll put the kettle on, why don’t you come in a few minutes.”
He chopped a couple more logs before pulling his now ruined shirt back over his head and following her in.
“I had a lovely time at the ball, thank you for inviting me,” Celia said as she handed him a mug of coffee and sat at one end of his couch, gesturing for him to sit at the other.
“You’re always welcome, you know that.”
It was the least he could do for the woman who’d taken him under her wing when he’d been unceremoniously shoved into the halfway home she’d worked at when he’d been paroled. She’d changed his life and now she ran his office for him.
“Why are you in anyway, it’s a Saturday?”
“Never mind me. Why are you here? Is everything okay at the estate?” she inquired, one eyebrow raised as she took in his rumpled appearance.
He was never one for being suited up but the now filthy shirt he’d slipped back on and his dusty tuxedo trousers were a little different from the practical sweatshirt and jeans he generally wore.
Jackson had talked to Celia a lot about his efforts to rebuild his relationship with William, which meant she knew one of the things that helped with that was not spending too long together at any one time. His decision to stay on at the estate was bound to have raised her interest level, especially when she knew he would normally have avoided the annual ball like the plague.
He sat on the sofa that Celia had insisted he buy the first time the business account went into the black, scolding that she was fed up with finding him asleep on the floor. He tried to corral everything that was spinning through his mind as Celia simply watched him. She knew him well enough to know he would need time to make some sense of his thoughts before he would be able to speak. There was something about her that made it impossible for him to keep things to himself. Perhaps it was that, despite being opposites in every obvious way, she had filled the gap left by his mother’s death. While no one could replace his mother, Celia’s unwavering belief in him had given him the courage to turn his life around. Looking at her, comfortably leaning back into the sofa, sipping her coffee, he realized that he’d half hoped she would be here today. He needed to talk to someone and she was the only person he would have been able to open up to.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said, wanting to let her know he appreciated the little ways she supported him as much as the big ones.
“What would you do without me?” she asked. The teasing words were ones she said frequently, and if he was honest he truly didn’t know.
Something that he knew was true for the whole team—they had all spent time in prison or a juvenile detention center, and every one of them was grateful to Celia for her help in turning their lives around. Something she would never hear of, instead insisting that it had nothing to do with her, that they were good people who’d m
ade mistakes and been strong enough to “come good.”
He raked his hands through his hair, shaking off the flake of wood that came away with his fingers, and sighed.
“I’m worried about William and his dodgy business associates.”
“You mean those strange men from last night?”
“Yes, and there are some funny things going on with the estate’s accounts, I mean seriously, how did William pay for last night without touching the accounts? He’s acting shifty, and these Eastern European guys turn up out of the blue.”
Jackson proceeded to fill Celia in, becoming more agitated as he discussed his concerns.
“I don’t think she knows what sort of people she’s dealing with and she won’t be told,” he concluded, and by this time unable to remain seated he began to pace his office.
He looked over at Celia when she didn’t reply. She just looked at him with a knowing smile.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he complained.
In the face of her continued silence he felt it prudent not to add any more. He had a sinking feeling he’d told her far more than he had intended. Unfortunately, Celia took his silence as her cue to chip in and true to form she wasn’t letting it go.
“I knew it,” she said, her smile broadening.
“What?”
“That when the time came you’d fall so hard you’d have no idea what to do with yourself.”
“What are you talking about?” Jackson protested. He realized he may have spent a lot more time talking about Amory than he had intended. Even his continuing concerns about the estate’s frozen accounts didn’t stand a chance against his all-consuming thoughts of her.
“Olivia seemed like a lovely young lady, I can certainly see the attraction.”
“She wouldn’t want me,” he said flatly.
“I think you know that’s not true.”
Shadows of Our Past Page 11