Hired by the Brooding Billionaire (14 page)

How bitterly he regretted all the hours he’d spent up here creating Estella instead of spending more time with Shelley. His creation had become a barrier between him and the real woman he was falling for. Had the memory of Lisa become a barrier, too, long after he should have let his memories rest?

He hated to admit it, but his mother had been right. If he was to survive, it was time for him to move on. He would never forget Lisa or their baby. But Shelley had to come first now if he wanted a future with her. When she had told him he made her feel
second best
it was as if he’d been kicked in the gut. How could he have hurt her like that?

He could not lose her from his life.

He paced the floor of the studio, back and forth, back and forth, raking his hair with his fingers, working through possible solutions. Shelley was right. He didn’t know how to get out from under the shadow that was blighting his life.

Professional help. It was an avenue he hadn’t tried. He burrowed in his desk drawer for the card with the name of the counsellor his mother had suggested he see after Lisa’s death. He hated the idea of revealing himself to a stranger. But if he wanted Shelley it would have to be done.
And he would have to finally leave this house to find that help.

He had to make amends to Shelley. Tell her what she’d come to mean to him. Seek her out in her apartment. Admit she was right, he couldn’t climb out of the shadows on his own. Ask her to wait for him.

But when he got downstairs it was to the shock of finding her key to the apartment on his kitchen countertop. And a note in her bold handwriting. He picked it up, dreading what it might contain.

Don’t try to find me, Declan, because I don’t want to be found. There are a few boxes of my possessions in the shed that I couldn’t fit into the 4x4. Could you please give access to Lynne when she comes around to collect them for me?

I’ve arranged for Mark Brown to finish the last work on the garden—it’s nearly done. I suggest you hire him for ongoing maintenance. It would be a tragedy to let the garden go again.

I could have loved you, Declan. I hope your heart can heal enough for you to find love again one day.

Shelley

He stared at the words in utter disbelief, then crumpled up the piece of paper and threw it on the floor with a massive roar of pain that echoed through his empty, lonely house. For a long time he stood, focusing on the forlorn piece of paper, white against the dark-stained wood of his floor, that had destroyed his hope of making amends to Shelley.

Finally with a great shudder of agony and grief he picked it up and smoothed it out again. There were echoes of her sweet scent on the paper—he shut his eyes and breathed it in. Then he folded her note and put it into his pocket, next to his heart.

His mother’s words came back to him.
Don’t let her go. Trust me, it will be like another little death for you if you do.

Why did his mother have to be so damn right?

But Shelley hadn’t died. This didn’t have to be final. The grief he felt at her loss wasn’t the hopeless kind of grief he had endured before. He had it within his power to find his beautiful warrior and win her back.

No matter what it took.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Two months later

S
HELLEY
KNELT
AT
the edge of the perfectly maintained lawn of one of the most famous gardens in England as she precisely planted bulbs that would flower next spring—paperwhite jonquils and blue hyacinths. She couldn’t help but wonder where she would be when they bloomed.

She was glad she’d packed her knee pads with her when she’d left Australia. Autumn was well and truly under way in Kent and, although there had been crisp, sunny days, today the ground was wet and cold. The head gardener was exacting and she was determined to do the best job she could. She considered it a privilege to work in a garden planted by Vita Sackville-West, one of the most famous garden designers of her time and a contemporary—and idol—of Enid Wilson.

At first, it had felt disconcerting to leave Declan’s spring garden and arrive in autumn for her tour of the European gardens she had longed to see but she had loved every second of it. No books or videos could give the experience of actually being in a garden like this one.

This was what she wanted—to see gardens that had influenced designs all over the world, even in climates as inhospitable to an English-style garden as Australia could be. To actually work as a horticulturalist in one was the icing on the cake.

But she was lonely and there wasn’t a day that went by she didn’t think about Declan. In protecting her heart she feared she’d doomed herself to a lifetime of her heart crying out for him.

She’d met a nice guy in the village where she was living—a farmer who had invited her out to ride horses on his property. Now he was pressing for a proper date. But she still longed for Declan like a physical ache. He was an impossible act for any everyday kind of man to follow.

She paused, trowel in her hand. Thinking about Declan was making her imagine things because suddenly she had that preternatural feeling she used to get in Sydney when he was nearby.

Slowly she turned around to face the lawn. A tall, broad-shouldered man with black hair and wearing an immaculately cut black coat was walking towards her. Was she hallucinating? Had she wanted him so badly she’d somehow conjured him up out of nowhere? Or was it like the other times during the previous months in England, France, and Spain when her heart would skip a beat at the glimpse of a man she thought was him only for it to be a stranger?

She blinked. Took off her glove to scrub at her eyes. But when she looked up again he was there, looming over her, a quizzical expression in his deep blue eyes.
Declan.

She stumbled to her feet and he caught her elbow to steady her. Of all the words of greeting she could have chosen, words to let him know of her longing and regret, all she could blurt out was: ‘How did you find me?’

‘Mark Brown. He took some convincing to give me your contact details. But he eventually caved.’

Shelley took off her other glove to give herself time to think. ‘So why are you in Kent? In town for a gaming convention? Or a gathering of billionaires doing billionaire things? There’s certainly enough wealthy people living around here for you to be in fine company.’

He smiled that familiar, indulgent smile he gave her when she was talking nonsense. ‘None of those.’

‘Actually,
how
are you here when I thought you could never leave that house?’ she asked.

He stood very close. ‘I’m here to tell you I love you, Shelley.’

She nearly fell over backwards on the slippery ground. ‘Wh... What?’ She managed to right herself—but her thoughts remained topsy-turvy.

Her first impulse was to blurt out
I love you too
but she suppressed it. In the two months since she’d last seen him she’d gone through too much heartache and pain to dive back in so easily.

‘I love you,’ he said again, slowly. ‘I don’t know how you feel about me, but I hope you might feel in some measure the same.’ His eyes searched her face, seeking her answer.

‘I might do...’ she said slowly. ‘Well, I did back then, now I’m not so sure. It...it’s been so long.’ She had told him not to seek her out, but somewhere deep inside her she had hoped he would—and been disappointed when he hadn’t.

Now he was here.

‘Two months I needed to sort myself out, to...to heal. You were right. I wasn’t ready for you. I needed help and I went out and found it.’

‘What kind of help?’ she asked, amazed that he would unbend enough to admit it.

He shifted from foot to foot. ‘It’s difficult for a guy like me to say I saw a counsellor but that’s exactly what I did.’

She frowned. ‘You mean you didn’t see a professional after Lisa and the baby died?’

‘I did not.’

She shook her head. ‘You should have. No wonder you were such a mess back then.’ She slammed her hand to her mouth. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘There I go again.’

He smiled. ‘I’ve missed that.’

‘You mean my foot-in-mouth blunders?’

‘Your plain speaking and telling the truth as you see it,’ he said.

‘That’s one way of putting it,’ she said, smiling in spite of herself.

He placed his hands on her shoulders. Even through the bulk of her down jacket she could feel their warmth. ‘You were right,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t ready to give or receive love and I’m sorry you were collateral damage along the way.’

She looked up at him into those remarkable blue eyes that were now free of the shadows that had haunted them, the handsome lean face that had lost the lines of tension around his mouth that had always been there.
His mouth.
That looked as kissable as ever. ‘But...’ She couldn’t remember what she was going to say next, too distracted by the thought of claiming his mouth for herself again.

Declan continued. ‘I had to come to terms with grief and loss and guilt and to stop blaming myself for what was out of my control.’

‘All...those things I couldn’t help you with. And...and I had my own trust issues to deal with.’ She’d had a very long talk with her mother before she’d flown out of Sydney that had helped immensely.

‘Maybe neither of us was ready then,’ he said. He slid his hands from her shoulders, down her arms, and pulled her closer.

‘But now?’ she breathed.

‘I’m ready to love you like you deserve to be loved, Shelley Fairhill.’

This time she didn’t hesitate. ‘I love you too, Declan. So much.’

Shelley pressed her mouth to his. His lips were cold but didn’t stay that way for long. She put all her hope and longing and love into the kiss. Until they were rudely interrupted by a loud wolf whistle from one of the other gardeners.

She pulled away, flushed. ‘Oh, my gosh, I could get fired for that.’

‘Would you care if you got fired?’

‘Yes. I like this job. It’s only a temporary contract but it’s a delight to work in this place. Even in winter the bare bones of the garden will be inspiring. Did you know about the famous white garden? It was a radical planting in its time—only white flowers. Apparently it looks amazing dusted in snow. Truly white.’

Declan put his finger on her mouth to silence her. ‘I’m sure that’s fascinating stuff. But can it wait until later?’ He stamped one foot, then the other. ‘I’m freezing here and I’d rather talk about us than gardens.’

‘Us?’ Her breath caught in her throat.

‘You. Me. Where you want to live. I can live anywhere, any country, for my work as long as there’s electricity and internet. I don’t want to live in the Bellevue Street house again—it had become a prison. I’m thinking of donating it to a heritage trust. Your professor in Melbourne is working on a proposal with me.’

‘My...my professor?’

‘Yes. With full recognition to you for having discovered the heritage garden.’

‘You did that for me?’

‘Yes,’ he said simply.

She kissed him again. ‘Thank you. That means so much.’ There was no need to elaborate further. His actions proved his love for her and it was enough.

She didn’t want to live in that house where Declan had been so unhappy either. Though she’d like him to retain control over the garden. It would be criminal for it to slide into neglect again or, worse, be ripped out.

‘What about your television career?’ he asked. ‘Have you given up on that?’

‘No way. The current presenter decided he wanted to do one more season before he bowed out so that gives me another few months before I’d have to start. The producer likes the idea of him introducing me to the viewers when the time comes.’

‘So that means you going back to live in Australia?’

‘Not yet. Maybe not permanently. But it’s too good an opportunity to pass up.’

‘I agree.’

‘But I’m conflicted. I love it here,’ she said wistfully. ‘The ideal would be if I could somehow live between Australia and Europe for a few years at least.’

‘That’s entirely possible,’ he said. ‘First-class flights make the long flight bearable. Private jets even more so.’

‘I wouldn’t know about that,’ she said with a rueful smile. ‘It’s cattle class all the way for me.’

‘Not when you fly with me,’ he said.

He silenced her gasp with a quick kiss. ‘And if you want to live here, I’ve found a wonderful manor house nearby,’ Declan said. ‘The house is perfect but the garden is crying out for the Shelley touch to make it
your
garden
.
’

‘Sounds promising,’ she said, cautiously, not really certain of where he was going.

‘It also has a stable and a few acres of pastures for a horse.’

‘Sold!’ she said. She drew her brows together and looked up at him. ‘What did I just agree to, Declan?’

He cupped her face in his hands in the possessive way she loved. ‘I hope you’ve agreed to be my wife,’ he said.

‘Your wife,’ she said slowly. ‘I... I like the idea.’

‘Good,’ he said. ‘I’ll take that for a yes.’

‘Not so fast,’ she said, taking a step back, her heart feeling like a parched plant that had just been watered. ‘I want a proper proposal, please.’

He laughed. ‘Why does that not surprise me?’ He looked down at the mushy ground that surrounded them.

‘I don’t expect you to go down on bended knee or anything,’ she said with a catch in her voice.

He took both her hands in his. ‘Shelley, will you do me the honour of marrying me?’ he asked very seriously.

She took a deep breath to steady her voice. ‘I would love to be your wife. And...and the mother of your children. That is, if you want—’

He closed his eyes for a moment. ‘Yes. I do,’ he said as he opened them again. ‘When...when the time is right for both of us to take that step.’

Shelley pulled him close and kissed him. She realised that might become another challenge. With past tragedy in mind, she could imagine how overprotective Declan would become if she were to fall pregnant. But they could face that challenge together when it came.

‘I supposed you’d like a proper engagement ring too?’ he murmured against her mouth.

‘Well, yes,’ she said. ‘But I guess you mightn’t have had time to buy one. I mean, what if I’d said no to your proposal? Not that I would have said no. I love you so much and couldn’t imagine anything I’d like more than to be your wife.’

Declan smiled and her heart missed a beat at the love for her she saw shining from his eyes. He pulled out a small box from the inner pocket of his overcoat.

‘Oh...’ was all she could manage to get out.

The ring was a huge sapphire flanked by two enormous diamonds. ‘The colour of your blue dress, the one that isn’t much dress at all,’ he said. ‘It suited you so well I thought a sapphire might too.’ He slipped it onto the third finger of her left hand.

‘It’s perfect,’ she breathed, looking down at her hand and admiring the way it caught the light. At the same time she caught sight of her watch. ‘It’s nearly time for me to finish. I’m sure they’ll let me go a little earlier on the momentous occasion of my engagement.’

‘I’ve already cleared it with the head gardener,’ he said. ‘You can come straight home with me.’

‘Home?’

‘I bought the manor house just on the off chance you’d like it,’ he said.

‘As billionaires do,’ she said, laughing.

‘You’ll soon be the wife of a billionaire so you can do billionaire things too,’ he said. ‘The income from Estella will be all yours as well. One hundred per cent of it.’

Shelley pulled back from his embrace, looked up into his eyes. ‘It’s not about your money—you know that, don’t you?’ It was suddenly very important that he was aware of that. ‘I love you, Declan. I’d love you even if we were going to live in the garden shed.’

‘That’s one more reason I adore you,’ he said. ‘We’ll have a wonderful life together, Shelley.’

‘I know,’ she said, kissing him again.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from
A WILL, A WISH...A PROPOSAL
by Jessica Gilmore.