She could feel his presence here. And, as much as she had always begrudged her grandfather’s trips away, she knew that there was a part of him that would never have been able to leave this place behind. His soul was here; the air was heavy with it.
Swallowing, she pushed the sense of loss away. They were here to fulfil a duty to her grandfather, and that was exactly what she would focus on.
“It’s easy on the eyes,” Evan said.
His breath connected with the winter air and condensation billowed upward. He surveyed the land with the confidence of someone who knew it well. No doubt he’d uncovered all the quirks; the best time of day to watch the sunrise or sunset, when the flora was at its most vibrant. He looked as though he owned the place already.
Not going to happen, buddy.
“Come on.” She started off into the blustering weather. “Let’s get this tour started.”
The air whipped around her, lifting the stray strands of her hair and flinging them around her face. The warmth that’d filled her cheeks inside the estate was long gone as the wind pushed drizzling rain against her. Something popped and then she was sheltered. Huddling close to her, Evan kept them both protected with the wide arc of the umbrella.
“Are you sure you want to go out in this?” He looked down, his face inches from hers. There was a challenge in his voice.
At this close distance she could take him in detail by detail. Cold green eyes, like the surface of a frozen pond. Flawless fair skin, a strong jaw and aquiline nose. Full lips. Skilled lips. Lips that had melted away her reservations and warmed her body up in ways she’d never experienced before. He kissed like he had something to prove…at least back then.
“Yes.” The word slipped out before she even had time to think about it. The press of his arm was scrambling her brain. The weather was conspiring against her, forcing her closer to him.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” he replied, linking his arm through hers. He pulled her forward and they set off down the path that snaked to a lush, green space farther down the hill.
Neatly trimmed box hedges enclosed the garden, where an array of flowers now grew among untamed greenery. The unusual mix of traditional and natural made Stella smile. It was her grandfather to a T…it was her to a T. She could almost see herself in this very garden, Austen in hand, enjoying the peace and quiet.
I just want you to visit one more time before you make your decision. A month, that’s all I’m asking.
He’d been so sick by the time he gave her his request, so pale and drawn. Each breath had been a struggle, and that once-commanding voice could no longer fill a room. She’d stayed with him day and night. Holding his hand until his light finally flickered out, a good-bye clogging her throat.
“We added this garden the summer before last,” he said. “Nicholas had been meaning to do it for a while, but it always got put behind other things. We figured that guests would enjoy a space to have afternoon tea.”
She nodded. “It’s beautiful.”
They continued even as the rain grew heavier, and Evan kept his arm linked through hers as if challenging her to step away. To be the first one to flinch. He’d always liked to play chicken, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her balk.
Beyond the garden was the sprawling vegetable patch with rows of broccoli and dark, leafy greens. Apple trees surrounded the space, their fruit vibrant among the storm-washed landscape. A pebbled path led farther down the hill, where the estate opened up and green grass stretched out as far as the eye could see. A small cottage was placed closer to the entrance of the property.
Evan used to live there with his mother.
“What’s the cottage used for these days?” Stella pointed as they continued along the path as it ran parallel to the long, winding driveway.
“Staff accommodation,” Evan replied. “I stay here sometimes when I’ve got work to do around the estate. Saves me trekking from my flat in London.”
Without warning, the rain turned from an annoying drizzle to a menacing downpour, and the ground beneath them turned to sludge. Stella gripped Evan’s arm as she struggled to hold her footing and an ear splitting crack of thunder sounded close by.
“Come on,” Evan shouted over the roaring wind. “Let’s get inside.”
They hurried toward the small cottage, their boots sliding over the mud-slicked path. Lightning illuminated the sky in split-second flashes and a howling wind blew rain sideways, flipping the umbrella inside out and rendering it useless. His hand gripped her arm so hard his fingers bit into her through the layers of clothing, but she was grateful for the support as her feet slid with each step. They landed on the porch of the cottage, breathing heavily from the mad dash. Small hailstones skittered across the driveway and walking path, creating a pattern over the grass.
“Winter is certainly here.” Evan shook the umbrella vigorously, spraying droplets of water.
“The Starks will be so pleased,” she quipped.
A smile quirked on his lips. “We’ll be expecting a bit of snow over the next week or two. You might have a white Christmas.”
She’d never been away from home for the holidays. It was a pact she’d made with her grandfather. No matter how busy they were with work, no matter what else was going on, they were always home for Christmas.
“It’ll be my first one,” Stella said, wringing out her hair. Her jeans were completely soaked through from where the coat stopped at her waist and her scarf was drenched.
“Let’s get you inside and out of those clothes.”
Stella’s eyebrow immediately arched. His booming laugh sent a shiver down her spine.
“And into some other clothes,” he clarified. “I’m not an animal.”
They took off their boots and entered the cottage, water flicking onto the polished floorboards with each step. The place was homely, dated. The kitchen was compact but serviceable—a wooden table sat in one corner, flanked by two chairs. An old photo of the estate and its staff hung on the wall.
This was the one building on the estate that she’d never entered before.
“Come through to the bathroom and have a hot shower.” He indicated for her to follow him down the hallway. Opening a cupboard, he reached in and handed her two fluffy towels and pointed to a closed door. “I don’t want you catching pneumonia.”
His commanding tone rubbed her the wrong way, but she was too wet and too cold to argue. Besides, her teeth were chattering so hard she might not have been able to adequately form a sentence. There would be plenty of time to put Evan back in his place, a whole damn month in fact.
She entered the bathroom and stripped, her clothes hitting the floor with a sharp slap. Stella wasted no time in wrenching the shower’s taps and stepping under the hot spray. She tilted her face up to the water as if she could wash all her worries away.
Why did he have to be here? The month would go by a lot easier without him. No doubt that’s why he’d decided to stay, to force himself into her space in the hopes she might forgive him. Well, she wouldn’t. She was done being used by people who were supposed to care about her. First her mother, then Evan, then her fiancé.
This is your chance to show him that you’re not a pushover. Maybe if you make it clear he’s not getting a damn thing, he’ll leave you alone.
Stella finished up her shower and wrapped herself in the towels Evan had provided. Peeking out the bathroom door, she found the pile of clothes he’d left for her—sweats and a baggy jumper. She swam in his clothes, her limbs dwarfed. She had to roll the waistband of the pants to stop the legs from covering her feet entirely. His scent enveloped her, the subtle soap and citrus notes buried deep in the fabric of his clothes.
It smelled clean, uncomplicated. Delicious.
Her bare feet made soft sucking noises against the wooden floorboards as she walked into the kitchen. Evan sat in a fresh set of clothes, a steaming pot of tea in front of him. Two cups were poured, and Stella reached for one, her
gaze snagging on the small window that looked out onto the estate. Tree branches scratched against the glass and the thunder continued to rumble outside.
It looked like the weather wasn’t going to slow any time soon. For now, they were stuck here. Together.
Chapter Four
Evan cradled his cup, enjoying the comforting scent of the tea as it drifted into the air. Seeing the prim Ms. Stella Jackson freshly washed and wearing his clothes was doing strange things to his insides. He shifted in his seat, forcing away the insistent hum of attraction that started up whenever she was near. He didn’t need to see her like this—all wet hair, clear skin, and wholesome goodness. She looked innocent. Stripped bare, young.
So similar to that night.
“Is everything just the way you remembered it?” Evan leaned forward on the table, placing his cup down and resting his forearms on the dark wood. The table was small and the movement brought his face closer to hers. Close enough that he noticed her sharp intake of breath.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been here during winter,” she said. “It’s different.”
Evan nodded. “I suppose you’re not used to being without your sunshine and sand.”
“No. I honestly don’t know how you can stand it.” She took a sip of her tea. “I’m used to crazy heat this time of year. I feel like an ice cube.”
“You must be itching to get back.” The words came out before he could stop them.
“Yeah,” she replied, bobbing her head. A stab of disappointment surprised him. Why should he care whether she stayed or went…so long as she sold him the estate? “I know my grandfather loved it here, but I have a life in Australia. Friends. A career.”
Something about her description of life back home didn’t ring true. Her eyes avoided his as she inspected a divot in the table, running her fingertip over the imperfection.
“What about family?”
Pause. “It’s complicated.”
He knew bits and pieces about her history from the time they’d spent together on her frequent visits to the estate. Her father had passed away when she was young and she had no siblings. Her mother had always seemed more interested in her own affairs than in her daughter. Unwanted empathy flickered within him as he tilted his head to the side, studying her. There was an innate loneliness about her, a permanent pull on the corners of her mouth that called to him. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, comfort her.
You lost the right to be her friend years ago, Foss. So don’t go thinking you have some kind of supportive role to play here.
“Do you still see your mother?” he asked.
Her expression darkened. Nicholas had never talked about his daughter-in-law and he’d only met the infamous Mrs. Jackson on one occasion many years ago. But he’d never forgotten the day she’d swept into the estate, her pale hair gleaming like platinum and her fingers covered in jewels. Stella might not appreciate what it would be like to go without, but she certainly didn’t flash her wealth in people’s faces like her mother had.
“Not as often since she got married again. Husband number three isn’t a fan of baggage.” She hitched a thumb toward herself. “And apparently I’m baggage.”
His jaw clenched. “That’s bullshit.”
“She seems happy.” Stella shrugged. “I try to call once a month. You know, to keep the relationship going. But we don’t have a lot to say to one another.”
Being back in the cottage had him turned upside down—so many memories were stored here. Old fears were packed away like skeletons in all the cupboards. No matter how many years passed, he couldn’t seem to step on that one patch of floor where he’d found his mother collapsed six years ago.
The rain pattered through the moment of silence until Stella cleared her throat. “But my job keeps me busy. I’m an event planning manager.” A rare smile lit her face. “I organize weddings, conferences, trade shows, and those kinds of things.”
“Sounds glamorous.”
“It’s actually hard, dirty work at times. I have to get in there while the rooms are being prepared and make sure everything comes together properly. I spend a lot of my days in jeans and T-shirts.”
“Still, I imagine you get to go to all the parties. Rub elbows with the rich and famous.”
“Famous people are more trouble than they’re worth.” There was a slight edge to her voice. “And I work very hard.”
“I have no doubt.” Evan rested his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers. Defensiveness was a good sign. It meant she still cared about his opinion—which might be what he needed to pry some more information from her. “I can’t imagine any person in the Jackson family being allowed to take things for granted.”
“Except for my mother. That woman makes gold-digging look like an Olympic sport.” She clamped her lips shut and shook her head, warmth tinting her cheeks. “That was really inappropriate. I shouldn’t have said that. We’ve got our troubles but I shouldn’t be airing my dirty laundry.”
“We go way back.” He waved a hand as if shooing a fly. “No need to keep up false pretences here.”
“You and I must differ on the meaning of ‘going way back,’” she said. Suddenly, her shield was in place again. This was the Stella he’d met on the plane—the frosty, distant person who barely resembled the girl he’d once known.
“Are you saying we’re not friends?” he asked, baiting her.
“Friends don’t do to each other what you did to me.”
There it was. The not-so-subtle elephant in the room. “And what did I do to you that was so terrible?”
In his mind, what he could have done was far worse. But she obviously didn’t see it that way.
“Reject me. Humiliate me. Make me feel like a freak.” She ticked the items off her fingers. Her cool mask had slipped and the pink in her cheeks had deepened to red. “Was it just a game to you? Did you want to see how far you could string me along?”
“Bloody hell, Stella. I didn’t string you along.” Had she really seen it that way? “I was trying to do the right thing.”
“By getting me into bed and then slamming on the brakes because I wasn’t good enough?” Fire flashed in her eyes and the full force of her resentment crashed over him like a tidal wave. “Because I wasn’t experienced enough?”
“You really think that’s why I stopped?” He raked a hand through his hair, trying to come to grips with what she’d said. “Maybe we’re talking about different nights because I certainly don’t remember telling you that you weren’t good enough.”
“How many girls have you kicked out of your bed, then? Am I just one on a long list?” Her lips twisted at his lack of response. “Right, exactly what I thought. I’m the only one.”
It was true. He’d never kicked another woman out of his bed, but it wasn’t for the reason she thought. It wasn’t because she was lacking in any way.
“I didn’t feel right taking your virginity, Stella. First times should be special.”
“I thought it was going to be special with you.”
Then it hit him. Why she’d held onto this event and used it to build a wall between them. Why she’d ignored his calls and emails for a whole year after that night. Why she was blocking him at every turn.
He remembered it vividly. She was doing a semester abroad in London, struggling to fit her shy personality into the university lifestyle. He’d promised Nicholas he’d keep an eye on her and when he’d gotten a call one night around seven p.m., her voice garbled from cheap cocktails, he’d gone to pick her up. Plastered didn’t even begin to cover how drunk she’d been. She could barely stand in her sky-high heels and short dress. The “friends” she’d been hanging out with were long gone. Leaving her to find her own way. Instead of taking her home, he’d brought her back to his flat and given her water, dinner, and a blanket.
She’d sobered up by midnight. Then he’d tried to take her home, but instead she’d kissed him. Kissed him in the way he’d only allowed himself to fantasize abou
t in the dark hours of the night. Kissed him like she wanted to pour herself into him. He should have known better than to lead her into his bedroom. But years of pent-up attraction had boiled over. Then she’d hit him with her bombshell.
She was twenty-two and still a virgin.
He’d panicked. What if Nicholas found out and fired him? He’d lose his mentor. His surrogate family at the estate. The only stability he’d ever known.
“Do you know what happened when I left your place?” Her arms wrapped around herself, pulling in the loose fabric swimming around her slender body. “The guys across the hall laughed at me. They said they’d never seen a girl leave your apartment before the night got started. They wanted to know what was wrong with me.”
He cringed. “I didn’t know that.”
“Don’t you think it’s hard enough being a virgin at university when everyone’s making friends and having sex like it’s normal? I thought you, of all people, wouldn’t cast me aside like I was nothing.”
“I put the brakes on because you were important to me.”
“Don’t even try to feed me that bullshit, Evan. You weren’t worried about me.” She sucked in a deep breath. “You put the brakes on because you didn’t want to bite the hand that fed you.”
The pain in her voice hit him like a punch to the gut. He couldn’t deny what she’d said, because it was true. But that didn’t diminish what he’d felt for her; he simply knew better than to take something he wasn’t entitled to. Sex was fine, but she’d deserved her first time to be with someone who could do right by her. Someone who might see a future with her.
And a guy who didn’t believe in love wasn’t that someone.
He raked a hand through his hair. “Stella, I—”
“I need to go.” She drained the rest of her tea.
“And how do you think you’re going to get back to the estate?” Tree branches thrashed against the windows as if to illustrate his point.
Millionaire Under the Mistletoe Page 4