Under the Boss's Mistletoe (5 page)

It was hard to believe it was the same man as the one who sat across the table from her now, contained and controlled, eating his sandwich methodically. What had happened to that fierce, reckless boy?

Abandoning her sandwich for a moment, Cassie took a sip of coffee. ‘If you feel like that about Portrevick, why did you agree to be Sir Ian’s trustee?’

‘Because I owed him.’

Jake had finished his own sandwich and brushed the crumbs from his fingers. ‘It was Sir Ian that got me out of Portrevick,’ he told her. ‘He was always good to my mother, and after she died he let me earn some money by doing odd jobs for him. He was from a different world, but I liked him. He was the only person in the village who’d talk to you as if he was really interested in what you had to say. I was just a difficult kid from a problem family, but I never once had the feeling that Sir Ian was looking down on me.’

Unlike his nephew, Jake added to himself. Rupert got up every morning, looked in the mirror and found himself perfect. From the dizzying heights of his pedestal, how could he do anything
but
look down on lesser mortals? A boy from a dubious family and without the benefit of private schooling…Well, clearly Jake ought to be grateful that Rupert had ever noticed him at all.

‘Sir Ian was lovely,’ Cassie was agreeing. ‘I know he was a bit eccentric, but he always made you feel that you were the one person he really wanted to see.’

Jake nodded. He had felt that, too. ‘I saw him the day after that fight with Rupert,’ he went on. ‘Rupert was all set to press assault charges against me, but Sir Ian said he would persuade him to drop them. In return, he told me I should leave Portrevick. He said that if I stayed I would never shake off my family’s reputation. There would be other fights, other
brushes with the police. I’d drift over the line the way my father had done and end up in prison.’

Turning the beaker between his hands, Jake looked broodingly down into his coffee, remembering the conversation. Sir Ian hadn’t pulled his punches. ‘You’re a bright lad,’ he had said. ‘But you’re in danger of wasting all the potential you’ve got. You’re eaten up with resentment, you’re a troublemaker and you take stupid risks. If you’re not careful, you’ll end up in prison too. You can make a new life for yourself if you want it, but you’re going to have to work for it. Are you prepared to do that?’

Jake could still feel that churning sense of elation at the prospect of escape, all mixed up with what had felt like a shameful nervousness about leaving everything familiar behind. There had been anger and resentment, too, mostly with Rupert, but also with Cassie, whose clumsy attempt to make Rupert jealous had precipitated the fight, and the offer that would change his life if he was brave enough to take it.

‘The upshot was that Sir Ian said that he would sponsor me through university if I wanted the chance to start afresh somewhere new,’ he told Cassie. ‘It was an extraordinarily generous offer,’ he said. ‘It was my chance to escape from Portrevick, and I took it. I walked out of the Hall and didn’t look back.’

‘Was that when…?’ Cassie stopped, realising too late where the question was leading, and a smile touched Jake’s mouth.

‘When you accosted me on my bike?’ he suggested.

Cassie could feel herself turning pink, but she could hardly pretend now that she didn’t remember that kiss. ‘I seem to remember it was
you
who accosted
me,
wasn’t it?’ she said with as much dignity as she could, and Jake’s smile deepened.

‘I was provoked,’ he excused himself.

‘Provoked?’
Cassie sat up straight, embarrassment forgotten in outrage. ‘I did
not
provoke you!’

‘You certainly did,’ said Jake coolly. ‘I wasn’t in the mood to listen to you defending Rupert. He asked for that punch,
and it was only because he was all set to report me to the police that Sir Ian suggested I leave Portrevick.

‘That turned out to be the best thing that could have happened to me,’ he allowed. ‘And I’m grateful in retrospect. But it didn’t feel like that at the time. It felt as if Rupert could behave as badly as he liked and that silver spoon would stay firmly stuck in his mouth. I knew nobody would ever suggest that
Rupert
should leave everything he’d ever known and work for his living. I was angry, excited and confused, and I’m afraid you got in the way.’

He paused and looked straight at Cassie, the dark-blue eyes gleaming with unmistakable amusement. ‘If it’s any comfort, that kiss was my last memory of Portrevick.’

That kiss…
The memory of it shimmered between them, so vividly that for one jangling moment it was as if they were kissing again, as if his fingers were still twined in her hair, her lips still parting as she melted into him, that wicked excitement still tumbling along her veins.

With an effort, Cassie dragged her gaze away and buried her burning face in her coffee cup. ‘Nice to know that I was memorable,’ she muttered.

‘You were certainly that,’ said Jake.

‘Yes, well, it was all a long time ago.’ Cassie cleared her throat and cast around for something, anything, to change the subject. ‘I’d no idea Sir Ian helped you like that,’ she managed at last, seizing on the first thing she could think of. ‘We all assumed you’d just taken off to avoid the assault charges.’

‘That doesn’t surprise me. Portrevick was always ready to think the worst of me,’ said Jake, gathering up the debris of their lunch. ‘Sir Ian wasn’t the type to boast about his generosity, but I kept in touch all the time, and as soon as I was in a position to do so I offered to repay all the money he’d spent on my education. He flatly refused to take it, but he did say there was one thing I could do for him, and that was when he asked me to be his executor and the trustee. He asked me if I
would make sure that the Portrevick estate stayed intact. You know how much he loved the Hall.’

Cassie nodded. ‘Yes, he did.’

‘I can’t say I liked the idea of taking on a complicated trust, and I knew how much Rupert would resent me, but I owed Sir Ian too much to refuse. So,’ said Jake, ‘that’s why we’re driving down this motorway. That’s why I want to get the Hall established as a venue. Once it’s up and running, and self-supporting, I’ll feel as if I’ve paid my debt to him at last. I’ll have done what Sir Ian asked me to do, and then I really can put Portrevick and the past behind me once and for all.’

He drained his coffee and shoved the sandwich wrappers inside the empty cup. ‘Have you finished? We’ve still got a long way to go, so let’s hit the road again.’

Cassie studied Portrevick Hall with affection as she cut across the grounds to the sweep of gravel at its imposing entrance. A rambling manor-house dating back to the middle ages, it had grown organically as succeeding generations had added a wing here, a turret there. The result was a muddle of architectural styles that time had blended into a harmonious if faintly dilapidated whole, with crumbling terraces looking out over what had once been landscaped gardens.

It was charming from any angle, Cassie decided, and would make a wonderful backdrop for wedding photos.

Her feet crunched on the gravel as she walked up to the front door and pulled the ancient bell, deliberately avoiding looking at where Jake had sat astride his motorbike that day. She wouldn’t have been at all surprised to see the outline of her feet still scorched into the stones.

Don’t think about it, she told herself sternly. She was supposed to be impressing Jake with her professionalism, and she was going to have to try a lot harder today after babbling on in the car yesterday. Jake had dropped her at Tina’s and driven off with barely a goodbye, and Cassie didn’t
blame him. He must have been sick of listening to her inane chatter for seven hours.

So today she was going to concentrate on being cool, calm and competent.

Which was easily said but harder to remember, when Jake opened the door and her heart gave a sickening lurch. He was wearing jeans and a blue Guernsey with the sleeves pushed above his wrists; without the business suit he looked younger and more approachable.

And very attractive.

‘Come in,’ he said. ‘I was just making coffee. Do you want some?’

‘Thanks.’ Cassie followed him down a long, stone-flagged corridor to the Hall’s vast kitchen. Without those unsettling blue eyes on her face, she could admire his lean figure and easy stride.

‘Quite a looker now, isn’t he?’ Tina had said when they were catching up over a bottle of wine the night before. ‘And rich too, I hear. You should go for it, Cassie. You always did have a bit of a thing for him.’

‘No, I didn’t!’ said Cassie, ruffled. A thing for Jake Trevelyan? The very idea!

‘Remember that Allantide Ball…?’ Tina winked. ‘I’m sure Jake does. Do you think you could be in with a chance?’

‘No,’ said Cassie, and then was horrified to hear how glum she sounded about it. ‘I mean, no,’ she tried again brightly. ‘He’s already got a perfect girlfriend.’

‘Shame,’ said Tina.

And the worst thing was that a tiny bit of Cassie was thinking the same thing as she watched Jake making the coffee.

Which was very unprofessional of her.

Giving herself a mental slap, Cassie pulled out her Netbook and made a show of looking around the kitchen. They might as well get down to business straight away.

‘The kitchen will need replacing as a priority,’ she said.
‘You couldn’t do professional catering in here. There’s plenty of space, which is good, but it needs gutting and proper catering equipment installed.’

Jake could see that made sense. ‘Get some quotes.’ He nodded.

Cassie tapped in ‘kitchen—get quotes’ and felt efficient.

‘We should start with the great hall and see how much work needs to be done there,’ she went on, encouraged. ‘That’s the obvious place for wedding ceremonies.’

‘Fine by me,’ said Jake, handing her a mug. ‘Let’s take our coffee with us.’

The great hall had been the heart of the medieval house, but its stone walls had been panelled in the seventeenth century, and a grand wooden-staircase now swept down from a gallery on the first floor. At one end, a vast fireplace dominated an entire wall, and there was a dais at the other.

‘Perfect for the high table,’ said Cassie, pointing at it with her mug. Netbook under one arm, coffee clutched in her other hand, she turned slowly, imagining the space filled with people. ‘They’ll love this,’ she enthused. ‘I can see it being really popular for winter weddings.

‘I always dreamed about having a Christmas wedding here,’ she confided to Jake, who was also looking around, but with a lot less enthusiasm. ‘There was going to be a fire burning, an enormous Christmas tree with lights, candles everywhere…Outside it would be cold and dark, but in here it would be warm and cosy.’

Funny how she could remember that fantasy so vividly after all this time. In her dream, Cassie was up there on the dais, looking beautiful and elegant—naturally—with Rupert, who gazed tenderly down at her. Her family were gathered round, bursting with pride in her, and Sir Ian was there, too, beaming with delight.

Cassie sighed.

‘Anyway, I think it could look wonderful, don’t you?’

Jake’s mouth turned down as he studied the hall. ‘Not really. It looks pretty dingy and gloomy to me.’

‘That’s because it’s been empty for a while, and it needs a good clean. You’ve got to use your imagination,’ said Cassie. Perching on an immense wooden trestle-table, she laid the Netbook down and sipped at her own coffee. It was cool in the hall, and she was glad of the warmth.

‘It wouldn’t be so different from the Allantide Ball,’ she said. ‘Remember how Sir Ian used to decorate it with candles and apples and it looked really inviting?’

Then she wished that she hadn’t mentioned the Allantide Ball. In spite of herself, her eyes flickered to where Jake had been standing that night. She had been over by the stairs when she had spotted him. She could retrace her route across the floor, aware of the dark-blue eyes watching her approach, and a sharp little frisson shivered down her spine just as it had ten years ago.

And over there was the door leading out to the terrace…Cassie remembered the mixture of panic and excitement as Jake had taken her hand and led her out into the dark. She could still feel his hard hands on her, still feel her heart jerking frantically, and her blood still pounded at the devastating sureness of his lips.

Swallowing, she risked a glance at Jake and found her gaze snared on his. He was watching her with a faint, mocking smile, and although nothing was said she knew—she just
knew
—that he was remembering that kiss, too. The very air seemed to be jangling with the memory of that wretched ball, and Cassie wrenched her eyes away. What on earth had possessed her to mention it?

She sipped her coffee, trying desperately to think of something to say to break the awkward silence, and show Jake that she hadn’t forgotten that she was here to do a job.

‘What would you think about holding an Allantide Ball this year?’ she said, starting slowly but gathering pace as she
realised that the idea, born of desperation, might not be such a bad one after all. ‘As a kind of memorial to Sir Ian? It would be good publicity.’

‘No one would come,’ said Jake. ‘I’m not exactly popular in Portrevick. I went into the pub the last time I came down and there was dead silence when I walked in. I felt about as welcome as a cup of cold sick.’

Cassie had gathered something of that from Tina. Apparently there was much speculation in the village about Sir Ian’s will, and the general feeling was that Jake had somehow pulled a fast one for his own nefarious purposes, in keeping with the Trevelyan tradition.

‘That’s because they don’t know the truth,’ she said. ‘Inviting everyone to the ball for Sir Ian and explaining what you’re planning for the Hall would make them see that you’re not just out to make a quick buck. You need the locals on your side if the wedding venue is to be a success,’ she went on persuasively. ‘I think this would be a great way to kick things off.’