Never Too Late (11 page)

Trembling with rage, she turned and marched out of the room.

“Molly!” Kathleen Harrington turned crimson.

Belinda’s eyes widened in guilty panic, then narrowed to defiant slits.

Molly fixed her with a withering stare. “You are one nasty horrible creature, Belinda. Martin’s too good for you, and if he has any sense, he’ll get away from you as soon as he can.”

Kathleen gasped and Belinda gaped in fury, but a strange elation surged through Molly, and with a satisfaction that raised her to the clouds, she strode away.

But five minutes later she was firmly back on hard ground and holding back tears as she entered Barrowdene’s driveway. 

The black night pressed in around her, and the weak puddles of brightness dropping from the dim globe lights on top of the gate pillars provided no relief. Even the moon and stars were hidden behind rolling inky clouds. She gathered the thin wool of her cardigan around her, the flimsy material and the thin cotton of her dress no real protection against the night’s chill, and walked on, head down, her thoughts loud against the quiet call of a night bird and the whisper of the breeze in the trees.

Martin. She couldn’t believe it.

All this time, and yet he’d never said anything to her.

He’d always supported her, even encouraging her to finish her business skills course, but he’d never made a move that overstepped the boundaries of friendship.

She shook her head as anger engulfed her. Belinda had to be lying. She had to be. But all those times that Belinda had showered her with hate, told a different story. The woman must truly believe Molly was having an affair with Martin, and was spreading that rumour around. How many people had heard by now?

It was hopeless.

Barrowdene house was as dark as the night, the windows soulless. Only the porch lantern glimmered, throwing pale golden shadows across the front door and steps.

She’d never noticed how lonely the house looked like this.

Was Jake in there right now?

Was he alone too?

Her steps faltered to a stop on the driveway. Did she have the guts to go to him now, take him up on his offer? She was already a slut in the eyes of the village. She had nothing to lose.

The dazzling white beam of headlights punctured the night behind her, flooding the driveway at her feet with a pool of brightness. An engine’s low powerful growl reverberated through the stillness. Startled, she stepped off the driveway on to the clipped grass behind the trees and hid in the shadows.

The brightness increased and the light blinded her momentarily, forcing her to hold a hand up to her eyes and squint. Then it passed her and as the intensity fell, the dark form of an imposing car cruised by and rolled to a gravel crunching stop in front of the house. 

The driver’s door opened and Jake got out, the light from inside the car illuminating his tall form. He’d changed into a blazer and chinos and the relaxed smile on his face caused her breath to catch. He went around to the passenger side and opened the door.

A long-haired woman stepped out and Molly’s eyes widened.

The redhead from the pub. 

The leathers had been replaced by a slim-line dress and high heels, but there was no mistaking her.

The woman stood admiring Barrowdene, and Jake slung a possessive arm across her shoulders. Despair constricted Molly’s chest as the woman leaned into Jake and said something that had him laughing and hugging her close.

Molly stood rooted to the spot, unable to tear her gaze from them.

Still holding the woman, Jake led her up the porch steps, opened the front door, and they disappeared into the house. Several windows lit up downstairs, like veiled bright yellow eyes, hiding what was behind them from her searching gaze.

He’d lied.

His girlfriend wasn’t history. She was very much a part of his present.

Dark pressed around Molly again, but it was the dark of betrayal, and wrapping both arms around herself, she walked on leaden legs to Rose Cottage.

He wouldn’t be lonely tonight.

“Check on that pie, Molly. I don’t want it burning.” Nan glanced up from the time-worn, grey stone kitchen counter in Barrowdene House where she was crumbling feta cheese on to a salad of black olives and sun-blush tomatoes.

Donning a pair of oven mitts, Molly kneeled in front of the old green range, her jeans stretching over her curves and her white lace gypsy top catching the oven’s golden glow as she opened the door. Warm scented air hugged her, and she peered at the giant apple pie basking in the heat inside, its browned crust oozing juice.

It was ready.

She eased the pie out and pushing to her feet, placed it to cool on an iron stand in the middle of the wide oak kitchen table.

A bread basket stacked with horseradish scones stood beside it, along with a gravy-boat of lemon cream, and maple-cured salmon warmed in the range’s smaller oven. The faded wood and grey stone kitchen, with it’s rusty Georgian iron-work, was filled with the smell of herbs, warm bread and sweetness.

Saturday lunch was ready.

And what she wouldn’t give to be miles away right now.

She looked out of the window to where Rose Cottage stood peaceful and empty on the other side of the kitchen garden. What excuse would convince Nan to let her leave now that they’d finished? She didn’t want to see Jake again, and definitely not the woman with him. She’d avoided breakfast at Barrowdene, and the only reason she was here at lunchtime was because she couldn’t leave Nan to struggle alone with the cooking.

But if she left now, Nan would say she was being inhospitable, and while she didn’t want to give a damn about what Jake might think, she wasn’t about to upset Nan.

With a grimace, she turned away from the window and went to get plates down from the dresser. He’d filled her dreams last night, that kiss fuelling her wild fantasies, leaving her yearning in the morning—hot, wet, and shaking with an unmet need that was becoming all too familiar. She frowned as she wiped the plates with rather more force than needed. Even Belinda’s slurs evaporated into harmless drivel in the face of this unbearable ache inside her. She couldn’t stop thinking of Jake.

When would she learn?

How many times was she going to throw herself at men who cared nothing for her? Hadn’t Brian been enough? And even if Jake hadn’t lied about his girlfriend, the temporary affair he’d offered her was still less than nothing. No, she deserved love for herself. Someone who wanted to be with her, and not use her. She was done with Jake, no matter how much her body craved him.

“There.” Nan placed the salad down on the table with everything else and stood back, hands on hips, to survey the spread. “Should we serve it in the dining room? He has a guest with him, though they did have their breakfast here in the kitchen.”

“They’d probably prefer the privacy of the dining room. She is his girlfriend after all.”

“Is that who she is? They did seem close, come to think of it, though I didn’t pry. But how did you know?”

“I saw them together… a couple of days ago.”

“Well, she’s a lovely girl. You’ll like her. Jake’s showing her around Appleby.” Nan puffed up like a proud little mother hen. “I told them to get out there and make the most of the summer day.”

Molly gritted her teeth. They were probably retracing the exact steps she’d shared with him yesterday. Would he kiss his beautiful girlfriend on the bench opposite the pub like he had her? Would he enjoy it more?

Sudden jealousy sharpened her tone. “Wouldn’t they have preferred a pub lunch, why come back here?”

“I did suggest it, but Jake insisted on eating here with you. He was quite upset you didn’t join them for breakfast today.”

Nan’s tone held mild disapproval and Molly simmered with fine rage. How dare he expect her to be at his beck and call. Did he think her so pathetic as to not have a life of her own? The reality that she had nothing planned for this weekend other than bumming around Barrowdene crept into her mind, and she angrily swept it aside.

“Why should it matter whether I’m here or not? He may own Barrowdene, but so did Francine, and she never demanded my company. My
only
job here is to help you make this house comfortable for him and his guests.”

“This is nothing like Francine, Molly. A young girl like you could do a lot worse than get to know people like Jake and his friend.” A small frown creased Nan’s forehead. “Oh, what was her name? Lily, I think it was. Such a sweet name. She’s French, did you know? It was the accent. She said it so quickly, I couldn’t make it out.”

“Wait. Why are you so keen on me getting to know them? What’s going on, Nan?”

Nan glanced away, something like guilt flitting across her features, but when she looked back only determination filled her sharp blue eyes. “It’s for your own sake. After what happened between you and Brian, you need to realize there’s much more to life than what’s in Appleby.”

Molly stared, dumbfounded. “But I’m happy here. Why would I need anything different?”

“That French girl, she’s just a year older than you, but she’s already been to all these different countries.” Nan sighed. “I look at her and see you. Do you know she decorates houses for rich types? You’d have loved to do something like that; you’re so keen on old houses and such.”

Molly paled. Yes, she would have loved to work in interior design, or more specifically in anything to do with period house conservation, but that had never been an option. With no money for university or even college, a part-time business course funded by Martin had been the closest she’d got to higher education. Everything she knew about historical houses, she’d taught herself, but that didn’t count in the real world. She didn’t have an official piece of paper to proclaim her ability or intelligence, nor the financial backing to strike out on her own.

But Nan’s words still twisted deep inside, leaving her raw. Hadn’t Brian implied the same thing? She wasn’t worldly or accomplished, and other than an above average knowledge of apples, old houses, and failed relationships, she had precious little to offer. Why would someone as breathtaking as Jake even look twice at her? All that talk about finding her attractive, of course he’d been playing with her. Even people like Abby and Belinda had seen that.

Nan was watching her, worry etched into the deep lines of her rosy face. “I didn’t mean to make you sad, Molly. I just hoped that being with Jake would help you see yourself differently, and not as what you’ve become since you took up with Brian.”

“Is that why you’ve been encouraging me to be with Jake? Nan, do I embarrass you as I am now? Am I not good enough?”

“Good heavens, child! You’re everything to me.” Tears welled in Nan’s eyes. “But this past year, you’ve become a shell of the girl I know, running around trying to please Brian, trying to keep your relationship alive. You’re so much more than that. I want to see the sparkle in your eyes again. But none of this is your fault. I blame myself for keeping you here in Appleby and not giving you a fair chance to find yourself in life.”

Molly’s eyes widened. “But—”

Voices in the hallway stopped her, a man’s deep tones followed by a woman’s pleasant laughter. 

Nan grabbed the corner of her pink shawl and dabbed away her tears before turning her attention to the salmon in the oven. Molly quieted her quivering nerves, and moved to wait as far from the kitchen door as possible, leaning for support against the cold grey stone counter. For a second, she couldn’t understand what Jake was saying, then with a start, a few words registered. He was speaking French. Fluently. The beautiful melodic language that had been her mother’s washed over her.

She’d always struggled to learn it, but it had proven an impossible task. Her brain was like a sieve for the words, their meanings slipping away faster than she could grab at them. Her grandfather had decided it was a mental block caused by the grief of never knowing her parents, but Nan, ever practical, had merely stated that if something refused to stay with her, then it was never meant to be, and to let it go gracefully.

She had let it go. But as she listened now to Jake’s smooth words and his girlfriend’s laughing reply, yearning washed over her. His girlfriend was teasing him about something, and judging by his deep chuckle, he didn’t mind at all.

Her core ached again with a need for him that refused to die, a slow burn uncoiling in her, but with a supreme effort she managed to make her face as expressionless as a glass lake just as he strode into the kitchen.

He broke into a grin on seeing her. “I thought you’d avoid lunch also.”

So he’d noticed she was avoiding him. Good.

She let that thought fuel her anger, letting it burn away the ache of longing in her. 

He was back in jeans and a dark green t-shirt, looking as magnificently sexy as he had yesterday. But this time, his girlfriend was right behind him, looking fresh off the catwalk in an apricot off-the-shoulder top and a pair of black skinny jeans, her red tresses loose around her shoulders and back.

Molly grasped on hard to her image of indifference. He shouldn’t think she did anything with him in mind. “I wouldn’t miss helping Nan.”

His eyes narrowed, sharpening on her, and she fought the sudden urge to wrap her arms around herself as physical protection against his searching gaze. Then his lips quirked up in a small smile as if understanding something and she stared back, nervous, had she revealed her hidden need somehow?

But he turned to his girlfriend. “Lilayni, this is Molly.”

“Oui, I remember. From the pub.”

Molly found herself returning Lilayni’s warm smile. “It’s nice to meet you in better circumstances.”

“Ah, but it was so amusing, non?”

Lilayni’s giggle was infectious and Jake grinned. “Remind me to introduce you properly to Nate today. He’s not that bad, really, but it’ll be a laugh watching you knock his socks off again.”

“Make sure you catch him before he goes down the pub.” Nan said, placing the garnished salmon on the table. “He’s a right grumpy goblin after that.”

Jake came over to the table and sniffed appreciatively. “You’ve outdone yourself, Lucy. But you shouldn’t have gone to all the trouble.”