Jumping in Puddles (6 page)

It was only when he sat inside with the doors locked that he realized how violently he was trembling. His face was bleeding, and his hand ached. He wiped his mouth and drove out of town, his heart hammering in his chest. He hadn’t known he could hit that hard or run that fast.
Shit.

No more than a mile from the town center, he pulled in at the side of the road and threw up in the gutter.

How much further do I have left to fall?

Chapter Four

Ellie lay in bed with her eyes open. She’d spent a great evening with Henry. His love for Jago shone through everything he said. The more he’d talked about what a rough deal the guy had, the more she told herself she had to keep her attraction to him under control and hidden. The last thing he needed was to get emotionally involved with someone who’d ultimately disappoint him. No matter how much she ached to help him, the Kewen had to come first.

But Jago was a close second.

The question about the ring sat on her lips all night, but she hadn’t voiced it. She suspected the check Jago mentioned had been for the ring, but if she asked about things she wasn’t supposed to know, Henry might throw her out.

Failure wasn’t an option. Sharwood held something at its heart that didn’t belong here, and the house seemed to be playing a game of its own. A man who’d been going to buy Sharwood died in a car crash with Jago’s parents, another potential buyer had a heart attack in front of Jago, and yet another was hit by a piece of molding. Jago and a guy had fallen through the floor and ended up in the hospital, and she knew he’d nearly fallen off the roof a little while ago. A burst of magic had propelled him backward. Was any or all of that connected to the Kewen? Did the faerie treasure have some hold over the house? Over those responsible for the house?

Until the ring appeared at the auction, there had been no trace of any piece of the Kewen for over three hundred years. The collection of gems and jewelry, minutely detailed in the book, was a queen’s dowry, guarded and then lost by Ellie’s ancestors. As a consequence, the eldest child of each generation was bound to search for the Kewen for fifty years. All her family was supposed to keep a lookout, but her father’s fifty years completed, it was Ellie who now bore the main burden, her father sharing it through choice. She didn’t want to pass the onus on to any offspring, assuming she had them. But she had to find the Kewen first.

It was possible the jewels had been split up. The other pieces might not be at Sharwood, but Ellie had a strong belief that they were. This was her chance to prove her family’s innocence. She’d do whatever it took to ensure their acceptance back into the world they’d been cast from so long ago. She wanted her father to be proud of her. She wanted to make him smile.

* * * *

When Ellie woke the next morning, there was no sign of movement from Henry. She poured a bowl of cereal, and when she opened a drawer to look for a spoon, she discovered the flier she’d sent.

Does your life need a breath of fresh air? Need help making your dreams a reality? I’ll work with you toward your professional and personal goals. I can make your world what you want it to be.

Could she change their world? It wasn’t only Jago she wanted to help, but Henry and Denzel, though Jago’s brother needed to grow up. She sat at the kitchen table and thought about what Henry had told her last night. He’d talked a lot, and when he’d said she was a good listener, Ellie had smiled. Listening was much easier than answering awkward questions. He’d made her laugh with stories about Denzel and Jago when they were boys, but she could see how much he worried about them, especially Jago. Denzel might have been the type of guy to pick up a snake because it looked cute, but Jago’s problems were right on Henry’s doorstep.

The more she listened, the more she realized the mess she’d walked into. Henry felt trapped in a time warp, unable to move on. Much as he loved the place, he didn’t want to stay here on his own, doing the same thing until he died, watching Jago struggle to keep his head above water. He wanted to see something of the world. He’d told her he had barely enough money to support himself and the gardens for another six months.

She’d been shocked when he’d told her he’d paid the death duties after Jago’s parents had died. Where had he found the money? If he’d used the Kewen, Ellie would have surely seen it come onto the market. Plus the jewels were worth a lot more than the tax bill. So however Henry had raised the money, it was unlikely to have been by selling the Kewen.

Ellie dressed in her denim shorts, pink T-shirt, and pink shoes and quietly let herself out. According to Henry, the garden was as old as the house, and while intervening centuries had wrought their changes, much of the land immediately around the building was under the same use as when it’d first been planned. There were eleven acres of small gardens each with a distinct identity, and Ellie thought the place was lovely.

She made her way along the gravel path and cut in through the gate in the yew hedge that led to the kitchen gardens beyond. Henry said he’d been working in the herb bed, and she decided to carry on where he’d left off. Getting into his good books would improve her chances of making a better impression on Jago.

A lump formed in her throat at the thought of the guy. How was she supposed to get through to him when he wouldn’t even confide in Henry? Jago bottled everything up and had been the same as a little boy, while Denzel, on the other hand, didn’t appear to have an off button and never listened, particularly to advice.

Henry worried that Jago’s growing desperation over the state of the hall had made him unbalanced. He was a trained doctor but never even talked about medicine anymore. According to Henry, he never talked about anything. Ellie had seen and heard an example of Jago’s bad temper yesterday. She hadn’t missed the crash inside the hall, or the shards of pottery on the floor.

She worked quickly, pulling out weeds, tidying the shapes of the plants, careful not to hurt any of the bugs she found. How was she going to get through to Jago? If the guy really was becoming more unreadable every day, what could she do that Henry couldn’t?

“Morning, Ellie.”

She turned and beamed at Henry as she rose to her feet. “Good morning.”

“Are you superhuman, or have you had help from James and Gavin?”

Damn, I’ve done too much
. “I haven’t seen anyone. I was awake early, and after you’d talked about the herbs last night, I thought I’d come and give you a hand.”

Henry scratched his head. “I thought there was more to do. You’ve even raked the gravel and put a twisty pattern in it.” He laughed. “Fantastic.”

She kept her gaze away from the large heap of weeds. Hopefully the gravel had distracted him.

“I think I talked too much last night,” he said. “I had a horrible feeling I’d wake up and find you’d run off.”

“I like a challenge.”

“You’re in the right place then. I just hope Sharwood doesn’t get you down. It feels like a black cloud hanging over us at the moment.”

“I brought the sunshine.”

He glanced up and smiled. “You did. Sharwood looks different when it’s not raining.”

“I can’t believe you’ve worked here since you were twenty-one.”

Henry crouched by a rosemary bush. “Yep, straight from agricultural college, assistant to the head gardener. I wasn’t the first in my family to work here.”

“You said your father was a mining engineer.”

“He was adamant he wouldn’t work here. His grandfather had, and his father before him, and Dad pleaded with me to be an engineer like him, but gardens have always been in my blood.”

Ellie lifted another handful of weeds onto the pile. “Why do you think your father didn’t want you working here?”

“Because the Lord Carlyle of the time was a miserable bastard—excuse my language. I remember my grandfather complaining about him.”

“What was Jago’s father like?”

“Another miserable bas—man.” He sighed. “I was in awe of Lord and Lady Carlyle when I started to work here. The awe didn’t last long in the case of his lordship, who was a bullying, cantankerous pain in the…backside. How I resisted popping him one I’ll never know, but Rebecca, Lady Carlyle, Jago’s mother—well, she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.”

“Where Jago gets his good looks?”

Ellie didn’t miss the flicker that crossed Henry’s face.

“Yes, definitely from her. Lady Carlyle was graceful, had the most beautiful eyes, and her smile could light up a room. She never looked down on me, never treated me badly. Unlike her husband. Hard to do anything right for him. Maybe all the men of this family grow up to be miserable.” Henry stopped working and stared straight at her. “I don’t want that for Jago.”

“I know,” Ellie whispered.

“He’s given up a job he loves, taken responsibility for his feckless brother who was spoiled by his mother, and now he shoulders the burden of Sharwood, spoiled by his father. From the moment Jago came to live here, he began to unravel. Maybe it’s this place. Unraveling was the word Lady Carlyle used to describe her husband after his father died.”

“What happened to Jago’s parents?”

Henry clenched and then unclenched his fists. “Car accident. Lord Carlyle had come to tell me he was going to sell the place. He introduced me to the man who was going to buy Sharwood, and I took an instant dislike to him. I intended to resign. Rebecca…Lady Carlyle went with her husband and the other man to York to celebrate the deal they were going to sign. Lord Carlyle crashed the car on a straight road in perfect conditions and killed all three of them.”

Ellie gulped.

“I never told Jago about the sale. His mother hadn’t wanted him to know until it was done and dusted. She loved these gardens. Said it was where she felt most peaceful.”

He’d loved her
. Ellie chewed her lip. “I bet people would pay to come and look round. Do you ever have open days?”

“We used to, but haven’t for years. When Jago’s parents were younger, they threw a party every July and invited the village.”

“You could open to the public, sell tickets, provide refreshments, maybe even have entertainment for the children. The garden’s such a valuable resource; it seems crazy not to use it. You should have been opening it before now.”

He shuffled his feet. “I don’t know if anyone would want to come. Jago’s brother upset the locals when he turned this place into party central. Rock music blaring out, naked bodies all over the place, people throwing up in the village and being rude, roads jammed with traffic, lots of alcohol and drugs.”

“You forgot the satanic worship and animal sacrifices.” Jago sauntered toward them.

Ellie gaped at his black eye and the graze on his cheek.

“Christ, what happened to you?” Henry asked.

Jago’s gaze slid to Ellie’s legs before he looked back to Henry. “I need to talk to you,” Jago muttered.

“Then talk.”

Jago tightened his mouth.

“Say what you have to say. Ellie’s going to be staying with me for a while. She’s done more work this morning than I managed in two days. She’s had a good idea about opening the garden to raise money for Sharwood, and if you’d listened to what she had to say yesterday, you’d realize she can help you too. And what the hell happened to your face?”

“I fell over.”

“Into a fist? Tell me you weren’t fighting.”

“I wasn’t fighting.” Jago thrust a crumpled piece of paper into Henry’s hand. Henry flattened it out, and as he read, Jago paced.

“A faerie wedding?” Henry rolled his eyes.

Ellie dropped the trowel on her foot and gave a loud yelp.

“You okay?” Henry asked.

She nodded.

“Can we use flowers out of the garden?” Jago asked. “The baron’s hall is fine for the reception if we fill it with color.”

“The flowers are no problem. We can even supply some food items for the caterers, but it’s short notice to find anyone to take that on, and alcohol will be an issue.” He turned to Ellie. “Jago’s brother wants to get married here in August, but he’s conveniently swanning around in South America and leaving us to do it all.”

“I can help,” Ellie said and took off her gardening gloves.

“Got thirty bottles of champagne anywhere?” Jago snapped. “Who are you anyway? What are you doing here?”

“I…make dreams a reality.”

Jago gave a derisive snort. “Thank God for that. So I can stop worrying about a leaking roof, how to afford a plasterer, and where I’m going to find the money for ten double beds?”

“Give her a chance, Jago. How can a fresh set of eyes hurt?”

“Show me round the hall, Lord Carlyle,” Ellie said. “Tell me what you’re trying to achieve, and I’ll draw up an action plan.”

“An action plan? Right. We’ll start with my bedroom. You can test my bed.” He advanced on her, and Ellie stood her ground.

“Is it a four-poster?” she asked.

“No, but there’s one in the room next door.”

“Do you have handcuffs?”

“I prefer a whip.” He smirked.

She smiled at him. “Fine. How many lashes would you like, Lord Carlyle?”

Jago gaped and Henry laughed.

“COME ON THEN,” Jago muttered as he strode away. “Might as well get this over with.”
And then you can run back where you came from.

Except he didn’t want her to do that. Those legs went on forever, and he was having a hard time not imagining them wrapped around his neck. Actually, he was having a hard time period. He pulled his shirt out of his pants and let it hang loose.

Ellie caught up and walked at his side. “I hope that’s not a line you use in bed.
Might as well get this over with
.”

He resisted the impulse to chuckle.

“I know you’re under pressure and feel things are hopeless. I understand because I’ve felt like that too. I can help. I promise.”

No, you can’t. Well, maybe you can but not in the way you’re thinking
. He stuck his hand in his pocket and adjusted his overoptimistic cock currently trying to find a way through his zipper.

“What shall I call you? My lord? Your Highness? Lord High Executioner?”