by Anne Mather
Ashleigh’s eyes centred on the last remaining figure who was standing behind all the others.
‘Who is that?’ she asked, not sure she really wanted to know.
‘That’s you,’ he said, a touch of sadness creeping into his tone.
She swallowed the lump in the back of her throat and stared down at the picture. ‘Really?’
‘Yes.’ He met her eyes with a look so like his father’s she felt like crying.
‘Why am I way back there?’ She pointed to the background of his painting.
His eyes shifted away from hers, his small shoulders slumping as a small sigh escaped from his lips. ‘I miss you, Mummy.’
‘Oh, baby.’ She clutched him to her chest, burying her head into the baby-shampoo softness of his hair, her eyes squeezing shut to hold the tears back. ‘Mummy has to work, you know that, darling.’ She eased him away from her and looked down into his up-tilted face. ‘Aren’t you happy at crèche and at the times you have with Granny and Grandad?’
His little chin wobbled for a moment before he got it under control. ‘Yes…’
Ashleigh’s stomach folded as she saw the insecurity played out on his features. Hadn’t she seen that same look on Jake’s face in the past, even though, like Lachlan, he had done his level best to hide it?
‘I have to work, poppet,’ she said. ‘I have to provide for us. I can’t expect Granny and Grandad to help us for ever.’
‘But what about my daddy?’ Lachlan asked. ‘Doesn’t he want to provide for me too?’
I will kill you, Mia, so help me God, she said under her breath. This was surely her sister’s doing, for Lachlan had never mentioned anything about his father in the past.
‘He doesn’t know about you,’ she said, deciding the truth was safer in the long run.
‘Why not?’
She couldn’t meet his eyes.
Was this how it was going to be for the rest of her life, guilt keeping her from looking at eyes that were the mirror image of his father’s?
‘I couldn’t tell him…’ she said at last.
‘Why not, Mummy?’
She closed her eyes and counted to five before opening them again. ‘Because he never wanted to be a daddy.’
‘But I want a daddy,’ he said, his big dark eyes tugging at Ashleigh’s heartstrings. ‘Do you think if I met him and asked him he would change his mind?’
She looked down at the tiny up-tilted face and smiled in spite of her pain. ‘I just know he would. But you can’t meet him, sweetie.’
‘Why?’
She hugged him close, not sure how to answer.
‘Mummy?’
‘Mmm?’ She bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from falling apart.
‘I still love my daddy even if he doesn’t want to see me,’ he said solemnly.
Ashleigh felt as if someone had just stomped on her heart.
* * *
Howard couldn’t contain his delight at her decision to take on the assessment.
‘You mean he wants to give us the whole lot?’ he asked incredulously. ‘For nothing?’
She nodded, her expression unmistakably grim. ‘That’s the deal.’
‘But on market value the whole load is probably worth…’ He did a quick mental calculation from the notes Ashleigh had already prepared. ‘Close to a couple of million, at the very least!’
‘I know…’ Her stomach tightened another notch. ‘But he doesn’t want any of it.’
‘He’s mad,’ Howard said. ‘Totally out of his mind, stark staring mad.’
Ashleigh didn’t answer. She didn’t think Jake was mad, just being incredibly tactical.
Howard frowned for a moment. ‘Does he…’ he cleared his throat as if even harbouring the thought offended him ‘…does he want something in exchange, apart from you working in the house to document everything?’
‘What do you mean?’ Ashleigh hoped her cheeks weren’t as hot on the outside as they felt to her on the inside.
‘Some men can be quite…er…ruthless at times, Ashleigh, in getting what they want,’ he said. ‘No one but no one gives away a fortune of goods without wanting something in return.’
‘He doesn’t want to sleep with me, if that’s what’s worrying you,’ she said, wondering why it had hurt to say it out loud.
‘He told you that?’ Howard’s red brows rose.
She nodded.
He let out a sigh of relief. ‘You are doing me the biggest favour imaginable, Ashleigh.’ He took her hands and squeezed them in his. ‘This will secure our future. We can get married in grand style and never have to worry about making ends meet again. Think of it!’ His face glowed with delight at this stroke of good fortune. ‘My mother is thrilled. She wants you to come to dinner this evening to celebrate with us.’
Ashleigh felt like rolling her eyes. The one sticking point in her relationship with Howard, apart from his deeply ingrained conservatism, was his mother. No matter how hard she tried, she just did not like Marguerite Caule.
‘I need to spend time with Lachlan,’ she said carefully, removing her hands from his hold. ‘He’s been missing me lately.’
‘Bring him with you,’ Howard suggested. ‘You know how much my mother enjoys seeing him.’
Seeing him, but not hearing him, Ashleigh added under her breath. Marguerite was definitely from the old school of child-rearing: children were to be seen not heard, and if it could possibly be avoided without direct insult, not interacted with at all.
‘Maybe some other time,’ she said, avoiding his pleading look. ‘I have a lot on my mind just now.’
She heard him sigh.
‘Is this all too much for you?’ he asked. ‘Do you want me to call Jake Marriott and pull out on the deal? I know it’s a lot of money but if you aren’t up to it then I won’t force you.’
Ashleigh turned to look at him, privately moved by his concern. He was such a lovely person, no hint of malice about him. He loved Lachlan and he loved her.
Why, oh, why, couldn’t she love him in return?
He had so much to lose on this. His business hung in the balance. It was up to her to save it. She couldn’t walk away from Jake’s deal without hurting Howard, and hurting him was the last thing she wanted to do.
Besides, it was a lot of money to throw away. How could she live with herself if she turned her back on Jake’s offer, no matter what motive had precipitated it?
‘No…’ She picked up her bag and keys resignedly. ‘I’m going to see this through. I think Jake is right.’ She gave a rough-edged sigh. ‘I need closure.’
‘Good luck.’
She gave him a rueful look as she reached for the door. ‘Luck has been in short supply in my life. I hardly see it changing any time soon.’
‘Don’t worry, Ashleigh,’ Howard reassured her. ‘He’s given you the opportunity of a lifetime. Don’t let your past relationship with him get in the way of your future with me.’
Ashleigh found it hard to think of an answer. Instead she sent him a vague smile and left the showroom, somehow sensing that her future was always going to be inextricably linked with Jake.
Even if by some miracle he never found out about Lachlan.
The house and grounds were deserted when Ashleigh arrived. Jake’s car was nowhere in sight and, although most of the blinds at the windows hadn’t been pulled completely down, the house still gave off a deserted, abandoned look.
She walked up the cracked pathway to the front door, feeling as if she was stepping over an invisible barrier into the privacy of Jake’s past.
She rang the doorbell just in case, but there was no answer. She listened as the bell echoed down the hall like an aching cry of loneliness, the sound bouncing off the walls and coming back to her as if to taunt her. She put the key into the lock and turned it, the door opening under her hand with a groan of protest.
At least it didn’t smell as musty as before.
The movement of air in the hall indicated that Ja
ke had left a window open and she couldn’t help a soft sigh of remembrance. Hadn’t he always insisted on sleeping with at least one window open, even when it had been freezing cold outside?
She wandered from room to room, taking a host of pictures with a digital camera, stopping occasionally to carefully document notes on the various pieces, her fingers flying over the notebook in her hand as she detailed the estimated date and value of each item.
As treasure troves went, this was one of the biggest she’d ever encountered. Priceless piece after priceless piece was noted on her list, her estimation growing by the minute. Howard’s business would be lifted out of trouble once these babies hit the showroom floor.
She lifted the hair out of the back of her top and rolled her stiff shoulders as she finished the first room. She glanced at her watch and saw it was now well after twelve. Two hours had gone past and still no sign of Jake.
Deciding to take a break, she left her notebook and pen on a side table and wandered through to the kitchen at the back of the house.
It wasn’t the sort of kitchen in which she felt comfortable. It was dark and old-fashioned, the appliances so out of date she wondered if they were still operational.
She picked up a lonesome cup that someone, she presumed Jake’s father, had left on the kitchen sink. It was heavily stained with the tannin of tea, the chipped edge seeming out of place in a house so full of wealth. She ran her fingertip over the rough edge thoughtfully, wondering what sort of man Jake’s father had been.
Ashleigh realised with a little jolt that she had never seen a picture of either of his parents, had never even been informed of their Christian names.
She thought of the stack of family albums her mother had lovingly put together. Every detail of family life was framed with openly adoring comments. There were shiny locks of hair and even tiny pearly baby teeth.
What had Jake’s parents looked like? She hadn’t a clue and yet their blood was surging through her son’s veins.
‘I’m sorry I’m so late,’ Jake said from just behind her.
Ashleigh swung around, surprise beating its startled wings inside her chest. ‘I wish you would stop doing that,’ she said, clutching at her leaping throat.
‘Do what?’ He looked at her blankly.
She lowered her hand and gave herself a mental shake. ‘You should announce your arrival a bit more audibly. I hate being sneaked up on like that.’
‘I did not sneak up on you,’ he said. ‘I called out to you three times but you didn’t answer.’
She bit her lip, wondering if what he said was true. It was certainly possible given that her thoughts had been located well in the past, but it still made her feel uncomfortable that he could slip through her firewall of defences undetected.
She put the cup she’d been holding down and turned away from his probing gaze. ‘I’ve almost finished assessing one room.’
‘And?’
Her eyes reluctantly came back to his. ‘Your father certainly knew what he was doing when it came to collecting antiques.’
He gave a humourless smile. ‘My father was an expert at many things.’
Again she sensed the wealth of information behind the coolly delivered statement.
‘Would it help to…to talk about it?’ she asked, somewhat tentatively.
His eyes hardened beneath his frowning brow. ‘About what?’
‘About your childhood.’
He swung away from her as if she’d slapped him. ‘No, not right now.’
She bit her lip, not sure if she should push him. A part of her wanted to. She ached to know what had made him the man he was, but another part of her warned her to let well alone. His barriers were up again. She could see it in the tense line of his jaw and the way his eyes moved away from hers as if he was determined to shut her out.
‘Which room would you like me to work on next?’ She opted for a complete change of subject.
He gave a dismissive shrug and shoved at a dirty plate on the work table in front of him as if it had personally offended him.
‘I don’t care. You choose.’
‘Which room was your bedroom?’ she asked before she could stop herself.
She saw the way his shoulders stiffened, the rigidity of his stance warning her she had come just a little too close for comfort.
‘I don’t want you to go in there,’ he said. ‘The door is locked and it will stay that way. Understood?’
She forced herself to hold his glittering glare. ‘If that’s what you want.’
He gave her one diamond-hard look and moved past her to leave the room. ‘I will be in the back garden. I have some digging to do.’
She sighed as the door snapped shut behind him.
What had she taken on?
It was well after three p.m. when she decided she needed a break. She had nibbled on a few crackers she’d brought with her and had a glass of water earlier, but her eyes were watering from all the dust she’d disturbed as she itemised the contents of the largest formal room.
She went out the back door, her eyes automatically searching the garden for Jake as she sat down on one of the steps, stretching her legs out to catch the sun.
He was down in the far corner, his back and chest bare as he dug up the ground beneath the shade of the elm tree. She saw the way his toned muscles bunched with each strike of the spade in the resisting earth, the fine layer of perspiration making his skin gleam in the warm spring sunshine.
He stopped and, leaning on the spade, wiped a hand across his sweaty brow, his eyes suddenly catching sight of her watching him.
He straightened and, stabbing the spade into the ground, walked towards her, wiping his hands on the sides of his jeans.
From her seated position on the back step she had to crane her neck to look up at him. ‘That looks like hard work,’ she said. ‘Do you want me to get you a glass of water?’
He shook his head. ‘I drank from the tap a while ago.’
She lowered her gaze, then wished she hadn’t as she encountered the zipper of his jeans. She jerked upright off the step but her sandal caught in the old wire shoe-scraper and she pitched forwards.
Jake caught her easily, hauling her upright, his hands on her upper arms almost painfully firm.
‘Are you OK?’
‘I—I’m fine…’ She tried to ease herself out of his hold but he countered it with a subtle tightening of his fingers.
She had no choice but to meet his eyes. ‘You can let me go now, Jake.’
Tiny beads of perspiration were peppered over his upper lip, a dark smudge of soil slashed across the lean line of his jaw giving him an almost primitive look. Gone was the highpowered architect who had offices in several major cities of the world; in his place was a man who smelt of hard physical work and fitness, his chest so slick with sweat she wanted to press her mouth to his skin and taste his saltiness.
His hands dropped away from her and he stepped backwards. ‘I’ve made you dirty,’ he said without apology.
She glanced at each of her arms, her stomach doing a funny little tumble turn when she saw the full set of his earthy fingerprints on the creamy skin of her bare upper arms.
‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘At least I wasn’t wearing the jacket. I left it inside it was so…so hot…’
His eyes ran over her neat skirt and matching camisole and she wished she hadn’t spoken. She could feel the weight of his gaze as it took in her shadowed cleavage, a cleavage she hadn’t had four and a half years ago.
‘I’d better get back to work…’ she said, waving a hand at the house behind her, her feet searching blindly for the steps. ‘There’s still so…so much to do and I need to leave on time.’
‘If you want to leave early, that’s fine,’ he said, narrowing his eyes against the sun as he looked back over the garden. ‘I’m just about finished for the day myself.’
Ashleigh hovered on the first step. ‘What are you going to plant in that garden bed you’re diggin
g?’
It seemed an age before his gaze turned back to meet hers, his eyes so dark and intense she felt the breath trip somewhere in the middle of her throat.
‘I’m not going to plant anything.’
A nervous hand fluttered up to her neck, her fingers holding the fine silver chain hanging there, her expression clouded with confusion. ‘Then what are you digging for?’
His mouth tilted into one of his humourless smiles.
‘Memories, Ashleigh,’ he said, his tone deep and husky. ‘I’m digging for memories.’
Ashleigh watched him, her eyes taking in the angles and planes of his face, wondering what was going on behind the screen of his inscrutable gaze.
He’d always been so adept at concealing his true feelings; it had both frustrated and fascinated her in the past. She knew his aloofness was part of what fed her lingering attraction for him. She felt ashamed of how she felt, especially given her commitment to Howard, but every time she was in Jake’s presence she felt the pull of something indefinable, as if he had set up a special radar to keep her tuned in to him, only him. She felt the waves of connection each time his gaze meshed with hers, the full charge zapping her whenever he touched her. His kiss had burnt her so much she was sure if it were to be repeated she would never have the strength to pull away. It wouldn’t matter how committed she was elsewhere, when Jake Marriott’s mouth came down on hers everyone else ceased to exist.
‘You’re breaking rule number three,’ Jake’s voice cut through her private rumination. ‘No looks, remember?’
She dragged her eyes away from the amused line of his mouth and met his eyes, her cheeks heating from the inside like a stoked furnace.
‘I wasn’t looking, I was thinking,’ she insisted.
‘One wonders what was going on in that pretty little head of yours to make you blush so delightfully,’ he mused.
‘I’m not blushing!’ She flung her hair back with a defiant toss of one hand. ‘It’s hot.You know how I can’t stand the heat. You always said I…’ She stopped speaking before she trawled up too many dangerous memories. She didn’t want him thinking she had stored away every single word he’d ever spoken to her.
