Shadows of Our Past

by Tanya Jean Russell

  ****

  Amory was so engrossed in her thoughts she didn’t hear the approaching sound of bare feet, padding on the smooth wooden floor, until a deep groan broke through them and she looked up to see Jackson. His mussed, dark blond hair was shot through with strands of gold in the overhead lighting.

  The man was incredibly made. His arms stretching up and behind his head caused the bottom of his t-shirt to lift a few teasing inches, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of a tanned, rock-hard stomach. They weren’t the sculpted lines that came from the gym, but powerful, solid muscles. A fine trail of hair led the way to the top of his loose navy shorts. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, her gaze was transfixed.

  His legs were long and thick, every muscle rippling as he moved down the stairs into the hallway. A rush of heat shot through her body, setting every nerve alight. Her stomach rolled as she absorbed the sight while a little lower everything tightened and tingled. She’d hoped that her memory had been flawed, tinted by the rose-colored lenses of what she had long since accepted was her first love. That clearly wasn’t the case. Rather than letting himself go he had become more impressive. The slenderness of youth had filled out, living up to the promise of overwhelming masculinity.

  His lean muscles had broadened, and whilst the softness of youth had faded from his features, it had left a strong profile in its wake. Jackson had grown up all man. She gulped, heat flooding her.

  The good feeling from her run was replaced by a more base desire to touch every inch of his perfect body. To pull it hard against her own and feel those muscular planes mold against her. She unconsciously licked her lips as she watched him.

  As she met his eyes, the feeling of heat evaporated, replaced by a harsh chill of dread that sank through to her toes. His emotions were playing across his face and it was clear that, despite her DCI’s reassurances, Jackson had joined the dots and figured out who she was. The recognition clearly shocked him as his whole body jolted abruptly to a stop.

  Unable to move, she stared helplessly as he began to walk toward her, his face a mix of unreadable emotions. As he reached out, her body began to respond to the heat that rolled off of him. The scent of his skin washed over her, but she moved back defensively. It was a tactical mistake, giving away that she knew who he was, that she had known all along.

  “Amory?” he whispered, hope shining oddly through that one word.

  Almost imperceptibly shaking her head, all her professionalism flew out the window, and with her heart sinking she managed a stuttered whisper, “N-n-no… No, you’re wrong. I’m Olivia.”

  No amount of training was going to get her through this. Despite her only half-admitted hope that he’d see who she really was, Amory knew too much was at stake for this to happen, but it had. Now she had to endure the awful consequences of him recognizing her, the hatred that would follow this moment. Sickness rolled through her, settling like lead and misery in her stomach, and she quickly skirted around him, running up the stairs to her room before he could say another word.

  Chapter Eight

  The realization that his Amory was here, along with William’s increasingly uptight and evasive behavior, left Jackson completely unable to settle. As joint signatory on the estate’s account he received a statement every month, and the fact that not a single transaction had been made the month before worried him. It was William’s right to run the estate as he saw fit, but something wasn’t right. Even in their worst times, when there hadn’t been a penny coming in, bills had been paid from that account. He shifted restlessly in the armchair.

  His brother was usually stiff and proper, that’s what came from being the heir. He’d had the pressure of behaving properly from birth. All of their father’s strict attention had been focused on William. Jackson had always had the benefit of his mother’s softer approach. Even down to his name. As firstborn, William had no chance at anything other than a proper English name, whereas their mother had been given free rein with the second-born. Even now his chest twisted with the pain of losing her.

  He’d lived without her since he was twenty and he still found it hard to believe she was gone. Cancer had taken her so quickly that they’d only had four weeks after her diagnosis. He’d spent every moment of those four weeks with her, sleeping on the chaise longue in her room while she faded from them all, and it hadn’t been enough. Her faith in him was what had grounded him growing up and without her he had been cast adrift. With her death the Duke’s normal disinterest in him had shifted, and rather than ignoring his younger son as usual, the man had taken his pain out on Jackson.

  That had been an unbearable time in his life and had led him to make some stupid decisions, starting, but certainly not ending, with dropping out of university and running away. Although when you’re twenty, it probably can’t be called running away. With hindsight he understood his brother so much better, and the jealousy he had previously felt about his father’s single-minded focus on William had faded. It was still there, but faint, like the old scar on his knee from when he’d slipped on the frozen lake one winter trying to prove he could skate in his normal boots. He’d landed on a jagged branch and cried his way through the subsequent stitches. Both memories were still there but neither had an emotional impact anymore.

  It couldn’t have been easy for William, growing up the sole focus of that determined control, not to have fully experienced the unquestioning love and support that their mother had given Jackson. His new understanding made it easier for him to accept William’s abrupt manner, but his brother had been more off than usual today. It was also very unlike William to avoid him when he visited.

  They might not be close but they still had a bond, despite some incredibly rough years. In part due to the Duke’s death a couple of years previously, they were finally working at rebuilding their relationship and Jackson wanted them to succeed. He needed his brother.

  As he continued waiting in the library for William to return, Jackson finally gave up all pretense of looking relaxed and began pacing in front of the fire.

  Every cell in his body was willing him to go to Amory’s room, but he knew it would be a terrible idea. He needed to get to the bottom of what was going on, and even more importantly what was going on between her and William, before he approached her again. Just the thought of her with his brother curdled his stomach, but if he wanted information he had to wait for William to get home.

  After what felt like a lifetime, William finally arrived back in the early hours. He was already half cut, if the clattering as he stumbled through the house was any indication, but true to form he came to the library for his nightcap. Leaping into a chair just before William entered the room, Jackson feigned the relaxation that had been elusive ever since recognizing Amory hours earlier.

  “Hello, little brother,” William said, the alcohol making his tone more genuine and welcoming than it had been earlier.

  “William,” Jackson replied, as William helped himself to a healthy measure of whiskey. “Good evening?”

  “It was adequate,” he replied. “I simply needed some time away from my responsibilities.”

  “I would think your new assistant would be helping your stress levels?” he said, half asking and half stating as he forced his tone to stay light and teasing. “It’s not like you to move them into the main house though … must be serious.”

  “Stop nagging,” William replied, waving his arm around, the freshly poured drink sloshing dangerously with the gesture. “I have not seen you for ages. How’s the business going?”

  “Overall, it’s excellent. Remember Mark?”

  At William’s nod of agreement Jackson continued.

  “He’s stepped up to a team leader role now that I’m spending so much time on the other centers. He’s doing some of the initial client briefs, which means I’ve been able to keep running the youth trips.”

  Despite his current frustrations, Jackson couldn’t help but feel the familiar satisfaction from dealing with the grou
ps of young offenders who came to work the estates he managed.

  “You and your black sheep,” William remarked and chuckled. “I am surprised that people want a convicted criminal as their main point of contact though.”

  “Is that me or Mark you’re referring to?” Jackson’s attempt at levity began to crack and the words came out more clipped than he had intended.

  “Bugger! Sorry, Jackson, sometimes I forget, it seems so terribly unlikely that you would have been part of a robbery.”

  “Unlikely, but true.”

  William reached out for a brief second, resting his hand on Jackson’s arm.

  “I am terribly sorry that I was such a pig about everything at the time.”

  Touched by the sincerity of William’s words, and more than a little stunned that his reserved brother had willingly made physical contact, Jackson smiled back at him. William was the only family he had left, so he nodded his acknowledgement and acceptance of the apology.

  William never referred to that time in Jackson’s life, preferring the ostrich approach to literally anything he considered distasteful. It meant an outright apology, for his own behavior wasn’t just out of the ordinary, it was “pod people” stuff.

  Something big was going on with William, and Jackson had the sinking feeling it had something to do with Amory’s presence. Her outright horror at being recognized and his brother’s refusal to discuss whatever was bothering him couldn’t be unrelated, could they? Jackson determined to stick to his plan of acting casual. Hopefully by seeming disinterested he could get William to open up.

  “Anyway, the team is doing well. It’s great to see how committed they are, even in the cold weather,” he added, hoping to knock William off guard before bringing the subject back to his goal. “The estate seems to be doing well? The accounts have finally hit the black.”

  William’s flinch focused his already piqued interest.

  “It’s alright. I’m not going to argue with you about the estate accepting some of my inheritance from Mum again, and I certainly know better than to offer you the profits from my business after the way you reacted last time,” he said gently. He recollected William storming off in disgust at having Jackson’s substantial self-created wealth pointed out to him a year earlier.

  “You know the offer of Mum’s money is always open though. She’d have been happy for us to use the money for the family estate,” he added.

  But contrary to his expectations, William didn’t relax. If anything, he looked more startled, as if Jackson had raised a concern that hadn’t even crossed his mind. William rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, exhaling slowly as he looked at Jackson warily.

  “The estate’s performance is satisfactory,” he began slowly, as if choosing his words carefully. “We had a positive summer with visitor numbers. There was only one breakage this year which was just one of the Italian dry drug jars, which means we can avoid replacing it. The biggest problem is getting the funds to last the winter. We need to keep the damp out of the public wings until we open again in the spring.”

  “It’s a shame opening year-round didn’t work,” Jackson said.

  “I know, but I have reviewed the accounts a hundred times. The number of winter visitors we get does not cover the cost of staff, security, and heating. We lose out in the end.” William shuffled in his seat and swirled the ice cubes in his glass of whiskey before adding, “I do have something in the pipeline though.”

  “Is this your plan to get the airfield up and running properly?”

  “No, I am still hoping to do that but the funds are not good enough yet. The village flying club have made repairs to a fair stretch of the landing strip in place of paying to use it for a couple of years.”

  “Nice that it’s getting some use. So what’s the plan?”

  “Well, Olivia had an idea about renting the house for photography shoots.”

  Jackson’s heart lurched at the mention of Amory. What had possessed her to pick a name like Olivia? It really didn’t fit the girl he’d known, although it certainly fit William’s style.

  “What kind of photo shoots?” he asked. “I’ve heard all about people renting out their houses for adult films,” Jackson said, his fingers making little apostrophes over the word “adult.”

  “Please tell me you’re not doing this here? I know you inherited the house but please don’t turn it into some kind of bordello.”

  “You are being ridiculous,” William said, straightening defensively in his chair. “It is certainly not that kind of thing. I can rent out the house or grounds for people to have the sort of dinner or picnic they see in costume dramas. A photographer captures the event. Anyway, you are hardly here so what concern of yours is it?”

  Jackson sighed and realized he could hardly lecture William on the perils of besmirching the family name. Instead, he asked William what sort of money he’d make out of it, all the while wondering how he could twist the conversation properly to Amory without William figuring out how desperate he was to know about their relationship.

  “People will pay a good four figures to have lunch in costume. Even with the photographer and other costs, over half will come to the house.”

  Jackson whistled his appreciation at the plan. “So she’s not just a pretty face then.”

  William looked at him sharply.

  “No she’s not, and you’d be wise to keep your hands to yourself.”

  Jackson raised his eyebrows. He knew Amory was special, but he’d never known his brother to be jealous about a girl. Especially when they weren’t even sleeping in the same room. “Steady on. Are you worried about hanging on to this woman?”

  Almost holding his breath, he waited for the answer, forcing his body to appear relaxed, despite how tense he felt.

  William stared at his brother intently and leaned forward.

  “Just trust me and stay away from her,” he said, speaking so quietly he was almost whispering.

  As he finished speaking William placed his glass on the table and left the room without uttering another word.

  After William had gone to bed, Jackson stared into the dying embers of the evening’s fire feeling totally confused and a little bit stunned. He didn’t think his brother was behaving lovesick or jealous, just odd, really, really, odd.

  They had enjoyed the challenge of pursuing the same girl often enough when they had been young and stupid but William had never warned him off before. Despite that, his brother’s loaded tone, when he’d told him to stay away from her, couldn’t have been anything other than a warning.

  Draining the last of the amber liquid from his glass, he decided he was staying around until he got to the bottom of things. William’s rigid response to his inquiries about the estate was definitely off and he was sure of one thing. Amory was the key to understanding whatever was going on.

  Chapter Nine

  Jackson groaned as he threw the bedcovers back and sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing his face with both hands in the dark. He stood up, the urge to go to Amory driving his movements, but before he reached the door he stopped dead, hands fisting at the knowledge that he couldn’t push his way back into her life. Instead, he turned back and forced his head back onto the pillow.

  Thoughts spun through his mind as he tried to make sense of William’s behavior. He had a reputation, but then so did William, and his brother had never warned him off a woman before. The thought of her under the same roof as him, in bed alone, taunted him, holding sleep at bay for so long he thought it would never come.

  As he finally drifted off, his dreams took him back to the last time Amory had been in his life.

  The sight of a red-headed Amory came to mind, glowing with youth as she smiled at him. He opened his mouth to speak but courage failed him. Instead, he reached his hand out hesitantly until he picked hers up and turned it over, stroking her palm and wrist softly. Heat rushed through his arm and straight to his groin, the contact washing away his fear of rejection
. She looked up from their joined hands to meet his gaze and the desire that shone from her broke the last of his self-control. He moved quickly, lifting her from the chair and pulling her against him. At the feel of her soft curves against his chest, he groaned his need before finally meeting her lips with his own. This was no gentle exploration, it was pure, unadulterated need, and before he could give into the desire to strip her naked then and there, he lifted her, wrapped her legs around his waist, and carried her to the bedroom.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, forcing himself to pull back as he spoke the words that echoed through time.

  She wordlessly nodded and pulled him back to her and claimed his mouth again as they eased onto the mattress.

  Hands trembling, he lifted the t-shirt she was wearing, sucking in a breath at the sight of her smooth breasts peering at him from above her bra. He reached to touch them, needing to feel every part of her, but the dream whirled away from him, vanishing like smoke.

  Heart pounding and body hard and alert, he sucked in a breath. The memory of the night he had fallen completely and shockingly in love was so real. He had to shift in his bed and place his feet on the reassuringly solid floor to anchor himself back into the present and away from the self-loathing that was threatening to reappear.

  At a time when he felt he’d hit rock bottom, Amory had bounded into his life, full of energy and passion. It had taken him until that last night to find the courage to act on his feelings, but he couldn’t remember that incredible night without the self-recrimination of the day that followed.

  Amory had brought him to his knees. He would have done anything for her, yet what he actually did was betray her, and lose her.

  With mounting frustration he pushed his memories back into the corner of his mind, where he had spent all these years forcing them to stay. His own weakness would not take over again. He would not fixate on the past. The only advantage of those memories was that remembering how badly he’d ruined everything very effectively killed the arousal that had driven him insane all night.