Never Too Late Page 6

  Enthralled, Molly peeled and chopped on auto-pilot.

  “Eugenie wanted the marriage undone as soon as she found out.” Nan put the knife down with a sad shake of her head. “She was quite horrid about it, and it’s one thing I never did agree with her on. Francine refused to speak to her again and left with her husband for India. She trained as a nurse and worked with him there.”

  “Where is he now?”

  Nan passed her the chopped onions and sat back down. “He died a few years back. That’s why she returned to England. But he left her well enough to live out the rest of her days wanting for nothing.”

  Molly paused over the sautéing vegetables and looked at her. “But there’s so much gossip about her in Appleby. Why didn’t you say something before?”

  “It’s hardly my place to spread it around Appleby. You know how much Francine likes her privacy. Mind you, if someone did bad-mouth her in front of me, I’d have none of it.”

  “Considering the way Eugenie behaved towards her, It’s a wonder that Francine kept Barrowdene going as she has. She could have easily sold it two years back,” Molly said, and arranging everything into a casserole dish, she placed it in the heated oven.

  “We’ll never know why,” Nan said. “But Barrowdene couldn’t have found a better new owner than Jake. Do you know, he’s asked Nate and me to stay on for as long as he owns it. I told him it’s a family home and that it needs children to complete it. Well, he doesn’t have children… yet.” Nan’s smile was mischievous.

  Molly stared at her, lost for words. Did Nan really think Jake was going to set up home in Barrowdene? That everything would go on as before?

  She pulled out the wooden chair opposite Nan and sat down. “Nan, you don’t understand. He’s not planning to stay here and make children. He’s a developer. He’s looking to renovate Barrowdene and sell it on as quickly as possible.”

  “He’s an architect, Molly, and you don’t understand. There’s something about Barrowdene. Those who come here, eventually find what they’re looking for. There’s a peace that lets you stay.”

  Profit. That’s what Jake Hennessy was looking for.

  She shook her head in frustration at her nan’s blind faith. “How can you say that? Francine certainly doesn’t want to stay here. And what about my dad? Why didn’t he stay? At least for me. Why didn’t he stay?”

  “Oh, my Ricky.” Nan’s smile was sad. “He never meant to leave you, child. But your ma… she held his heart, and he left to bring her back.”

  Molly nodded, contrite. “And the fire. I know. It wasn’t their fault. I should never have brought it up. But… I wish he’d never gone.”

  The blues music played on, a broken-hearted lament for her thoughts.

  Nan placed a hand over hers on the table. “Neither of them were to blame, Molly, not your father and not your mother. Not you either. You were only a little babe then. What could you have done? Your dad, he only wanted his family back together. Though, I’ll forever be grateful I didn’t let him take you to France that day.”

  Molly gave her nan’s hand a comforting squeeze. “Me too, Nan. But right now we have to accept that Francine is leaving, and Jake won’t be staying.”

  “Francine may just have found what she’s looking for, and as for Jake, you never know how these things work out.”

  Her heart ached to hear the hope in Nan’s voice. “No matter what happens, we’ll be all right, okay? I’ll make sure.”

  Nan smiled. “I know love.” She sniffed. “Smells like your hotpot’s ready.”

  Molly got up and turning off the oven, took the casserole dish out. The smell of rich meaty gravy filled the kitchen. She was about to serve the bubbling contents of the dish on to two plates when there was a knock at the door.

  “That’ll be Nate.” Nan eased herself up from her chair.

  “No, I’ll get it. You sit there and rest,” Molly said, glancing at the clock on the wall and placing a third plate on the counter top. Quarter past six was early for Nate. Maybe he’d decided against getting sozzled down at the pub this evening.

  Wiping her hands on her apron, she went into the hallway, opened the front door and stood gaping.

  Jake stood there, both hands nonchalantly pushed into his trouser pockets. His gaze roamed over her, taking in the frilly pink apron over her camisole and grey work trousers, before finally resting on her flaming face and wild hair.

  Her eyes were drawn to how his stance caused his jacket to stretch over his broad muscular shoulders, and she gave herself a quick mental kick, dragging her gaze away from his body and meeting the familiar amusement in his eyes.

  She frowned. “How can I help you, Mr Hennessy?” His eyebrow rose, and she amended hastily. “Jake.”

  Nan bustled up behind her. “Jake! What a surprise. Come in. Come in.”

  He grinned and stepped into the cottage, forcing Molly to scramble out of the way to let him through.

  His tall frame dwarfed their boxy hallway as he stood and looked around, inhaling appreciatively. “Something smells delicious, Lucy.”

  Nan beamed. “Molly’s been cooking dinner. And now that you’re here, you’ll have to join us. It’s only polite.”

  “Oh… But…” Molly began, and they both looked at her. “Francine! She must be waiting for you. Weren’t you going out for dinner?”

  “She’s getting ready.” Jake checked the gold watch on his wrist. “I have half an hour or more.”

  She tried again. “But you’ll spoil your appetite.”

  “I’ve plenty of that.”

  The look he threw her was suggestive and she shut up fast as heat climbed her cheeks.

  “Come along then.” Nan led the way to the kitchen. “Molly, you serve.”

  She trudged after them.

  “This is cosy.” Jake glanced around the bright, yellow and white kitchen as he stooped slightly to get through the small doorway.

  Nan watched him and chuckled. “Ricky, my son, had to do that all the time. He was always complaining these old cottages were too small for him.”

  “Your son?” He glanced at Molly as she squeezed into the kitchen after him. Ignoring him she went about the task of serving dinner.

  “Molly’s dad. He died when she was a baby.”

  “I’m sorry. It must have been a great loss for you.”

  “Yes, but we had Molly to live for.” Nan pulled out the chair next to the one Molly had sat in. “Get comfortable. I hope you like the old blues?”

  The slow rhythms still danced through the kitchen.

  “I’m all for the blues.” He said, lowering himself into the chair.

  The round wooden table was big enough for four, but seated, he took up most of the space on that side of the kitchen. Molly had to step over one outstretched leg to place the plates on the table. Shooting him a harassed look, she sat down, careful not to let an arm or leg graze his.

  He grinned, and picking up his fork, dug into the heaped plateful before him and tasted a mouthful.

  “Mmm, looks good, smells good, tastes good. My compliments to the chef.”

  “Thank you.” She kept her gaze on her plate.

  It was overpowering having him this close, and in her own house. Her nerves were shot to pieces.

  He reached for his glass of water and his hand skimmed close, making goose-pimples erupt on her arm. She shifted uncomfortably on her seat.

  Why couldn’t she control her body’s reaction to him? It had never been this way with Brian. Was it his size? Brian was six foot, but Jake looked to be taller by three or four inches. His shoulders were broader than Brian’s, more built, but there was something more. It was like that time at the pub. He’d radiated the same presence then, commanding and taking over whatever space he occupied.

  “…don’t we, Molly?”

  Nan’s voice registered, and startled, Molly looked up. “Sorry?”

  Jake’s thoughtful gaze was on her. “I was saying it’s a treat to have home-cooked food. I
don’t get it that often.”

  “Um… Do you travel a lot?” She cringed inside. Hopefully he wouldn’t guess he was the reason for her distraction.

  “I’m rarely in one place long, and hotel food is impersonal, no matter how good the place is.”

  “It’s all out of cans and packets,” Nan said with a disdainful sniff. “Food belongs in a proper kitchen, and that’s why a man needs a good woman with him. Left to your own dealings, you men don’t know your pot from a kettle.”

  He grinned, and Molly groaned inwardly, glueing her gaze to her plate again. What on earth was Nan thinking?

  She sneaked a glance at him as he ate. Didn’t his girlfriend cook for him? Maybe it wasn’t the done thing in ultra-modern relationships. For heaven’s sake, why did she care anyway?

  “Was there something in particular you wanted to speak to Nan or me about this evening?” she asked, fixing him with a baleful look.

  “Francine says you’re not working tomorrow.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. Since when did Francine know her working hours. “Martin, my boss, is in London on Fridays.”

  Jake nodded. “Then you can spend the day with me. I wanted to look around the village.”

  She gaped at him.

  “We have an agreement,” he added softly.

  An agreement? But that was about Barrowdene, not about being his tour guide. When he’d offered her a say in how Barrowdene was being remodelled, she hadn’t planned on spending oodles of time in his company. To hell with his high-handedness. She opened her mouth to turn him down flat.

  But Nan got there first. “Now, that’ll be nice. It’s a fine day tomorrow. You can go for a walk and then stop for lunch at the pub. They cook it fresh, not out of any packet.”

  Jake’s gaze remained fixed on Molly’s hot face. “We’ll be sure to do that.”

  “Nan,” she said quickly. “Don’t you need a hand with the baking for the women’s committee meeting tomorrow?”

  Nan waved that off. “I can manage. It’s only a couple of cakes.” She turned to Jake. “We have it every Friday evening down at the church hall. We all make something for it.”

  Molly’s mind churned wildly. “Francine may need you tomorrow,” she said to him. “You must have lots to discuss about Barrowdene.”

  “Nothing I can’t discuss with you.” His amber eyes sparkled merrily, and her face heated up on cue. “Besides, Francine is leaving Appleby tomorrow morning.”

  They both stared at him in surprise.

  “Is she? She didn’t mention,” Nan said. “Though, she never does stay long. I suppose she’ll head back to London?”

  He shrugged. “I got the impression she’s looking for a change, a holiday maybe. She was talking about getting away.”

  Nan beamed. “Well then, there’s no need for you to waste a sunny day cooped up in Barrowdene. Molly will be with you tomorrow morning, bright and early.”

  “Sounds good.” And shooting Molly a wicked grin that sent hot sparks exploding in her, he stood up from the table.

  Nan began clearing away the plates, and seething, Molly followed him out into the hallway. She’d been neatly gift-wrapped and presented for his use. Nan was being hospitable, but really, couldn’t he just spend his day cooped up in Barrowdene? Wasn’t that what he’d come here for in the first place?

  He opened the front door. “I’ll be seeing you bright and early tomorrow.”

  She couldn’t resist. “Yes, Sir.” And completed it with a smart salute.

  He laughed, his lion eyes twinkling, and she could only stare back, trapped in the power of him.

  But then his laughter died, and his gaze narrowed on her, falling to her lips.

  With a gulp, she stood still, staring at him like a deer in headlights, barely breathing.

  Cripes! Was he going to… kiss her?

  Nervously, she licked her lips with the tip of her tongue and his eyes flared on that small move. Then all of a sudden he stepped back, and without another word, turned and strode out of the cottage.

  Her trapped breath rushed out, and she sagged against the door.

  Of course he hadn’t been about to kiss her. What sort of naive idiot was she being?

  His flirting confused her, but it was her body’s electric reaction to him that petrified her. If she didn’t reign herself in, and fast, how was she going to survive tomorrow?

  6

  Bright and early, Friday morning, Molly loitered outside Rose Cottage.

  Perhaps too early.

  It was just before eight o’clock and Jake was nowhere to be seen. She checked her watch again. She’d wanted to make a point, but the only person bothered seemed to be herself.

  Nan was busy inside the big house, and miffed, Molly headed off to talk to the stable girls. They always arrived at the crack of dawn to care for their horses.

  The morning sun smiled hot on her bare shoulders. She’d opted for simple. A sky-blue strappy dress that traced her curves and flowed out from her hips to just above her knees. Her unrestrained hair spread around her shoulders and down her back like a curly golden cloud, and a touch of mascara and pink lipgloss and blue flats completed the look. She’d aimed for comfortable rather than alluring, and pleased with her effort, she planned the day as she walked.

  She’d take him in a wide circle around the village, passing the large orchards and the church, then down Main Street, ending at the pub by lunchtime. By then, he’d be ready to drop and begging to finish the day. A filling lunch and job done.

  All she had to do was keep her distance, keep it polite, and keep her crazy hormones on ice.

  She passed the garage. Francine’s red Mercedes was gone, and the conservatory door further on in the main house opened and two giggling girls ran out.

  They were two of Nan’s regular helpers, both sixteen years old and forever prattling about boys. They squealed on seeing her and rushed over.

  “Molly!”

  With a sigh, she steeled herself to hear the latest instalment of teen angst and love in the village.

  “Have you seen him?” Carly, the dark haired one, jigged up and down in excitement.

  Molly stared at her, nonplussed. “Who?”

  “The new Lord of Barrowdene!” Daisy, the shorter blonde, enthused. “God, he’s hot!”

  Carly giggled. “We were changing the bedsheets and he came out of the shower.”

  Molly’s eyes rounded.

  Daisy jumped in. “We were like ‘Oh. My. God’. And Carly’s mouth was open so wide.”

  “Yours too!” Carly snapped. “You were gawking at him like he was the last guy on earth.”

  “I wouldn’t mind if he was,” Daisy said, preening the end of her fair plait. “Did you see that body?”

  “Wait.” Molly squeezed into the conversation. “When he came out of the shower, was he…?”

  Carly rolled her eyes. “Oh, he had a towel around his important bits.”

  Daisy sniggered. “Shame.”

  And both girls looked at each other and cackled with laughter.

  Molly breathed out in relief.

  The village would waste no time in labelling Jake a lecherous pervert of the worst kind if this had happened any other way.

  Daisy regarded her, envy in her narrowed gaze. “I bet you’ve spoken to him. All he said to us was ‘sorry’ and then he locked himself in the bathroom.”

  “What’s his name?” Carly asked eagerly.

  “Jake Hennessy.” Molly glanced skyward, praying for patience. “And yes… yes, I’ve spoken to him.”

  “Do you like him?” Daisy’s eyes were sly.

  Molly’s face heated up. “I hardly know him to like him.”

  “Oh, she does!” Carly yelped.

  Molly choked out a protest but they weren’t listening.

  “Come on. We’ve got to tell the others.” Daisy pulled at her friend. “See ya, Molly, and don’t hog him.” And off they ran, whispering and giggling to each other.

  Molly groan
ed. Within the hour it would be all over Appleby that she was madly in love with the new ‘Lord of Barrowdene’. Storm clouds gathered over her mood as she stalked to the stables.

  Kitty the youngest of the three Harrington girls, was outside the stables, brushing down a calm bay mare. “She was a tad skittish yesterday, so I thought a morning massage might soothe her,” Kitty said, patting the mare’s flank.

  Unlike her taller, slimmer sisters, Kitty was short, around Molly’s height, but voluptuous. Her long golden hair fell in a straight shiny sheet down her back when she didn’t have it scraped back in her usual ponytail, and her cornflower-blue eyes shone with the self-assurance of someone used to being judged the prettiest.

  Her perfect hair wasn’t the only thing Molly envied about Kitty. She’d often wished she had the confidence to talk charming rings around people the way Kitty did. Nearly all the eligible young men in Appleby were in thrall to Kitty, and a fair number of ineligible ones too. Kitty would never show herself up as a gauche idiot in front of Jake the way Molly had.

  “We’re all rather relieved to be staying on here,” Kitty said as Molly offered the mare the flat of her palm to nuzzle. “We thought we’d have to move when we heard Francine was selling up.”

  The mare nudged Molly’s palm and she stroked the animal’s forelock absently. “None of us really know what Jake’s plans are for Barrowdene, or how long he’s going to be here.”

  “He’s here for the time being.” Kitty’s voice brimmed with satisfaction. “We have a backup plan to move to Ayers Farm if we need to, but I’d much rather stay here. That Tom Ayers is such a caveman.”

  Molly’s ears pricked up. Tom Ayers. The dark-haired, bearded young farmer who co-owned and managed the huge and successful Ayers Farm with his father. He was plain spoken and straight to the point, and it sounded like he was one of the few men who hadn’t succumbed to Kitty’s charms.

  “This Jake,” Kitty mused. “He’s single, isn’t he? And word is he offered Francine full cash, several million, I heard. We’re all hoping he’ll marry someone in Appleby and settle here.”

  “He has a girlfriend.”