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‘Of course I do. But I want to know yours.’
She turned to look up at the smoky grey clouds which were puffing through the sky—suddenly envying that cloud its freedom to float high above the world and all its cares. ‘I think I’d like to go up that hill at the back of the house—right to the very top. You know—the bit where you get the best view of the moors.’
‘I know it very well,’ he said softly.
They set off. The ground was soft and sank beneath their feet and it made the walk seem slightly tougher than usual. Ashley was fit, but unusually she was a little out of breath by the time she reached the top of the incline. Or maybe that was because Jack’s legs were long—so much longer than hers—so that they seemed to eat up the ground in front of him.
It felt strange to be out alone with him in the great outdoors like this—but it only added to the confused swirl of her thoughts. It made her feel as if they were a couple. As if she had been born to walk with a man like Jack Marchant—enjoying the comfortable ease of their shared silence and seeing his dark, craggy profile etched against the stark landscape. Yet they were only here because his horse was sick—because Jack had asked her on a whim. No point reading any more into it than that.
He stopped when they reached the highest point—and Ashley stood beside him—acknowledging with guilty pleasure how tiny he made her feel. And how fragile. Her limbs seemed so slight when compared with his—because even his thick coat couldn’t disguise the dormant strength which lay beneath.
Oh, why was she thinking this way—risking making herself a laughing stock—an illegitimate orphan from the wrong sides of the track, nurturing a passion for a man who was way out of her reach?
With an effort, she forced her attention away from his profile to stare at the scene in front of her. From here you could see Blackwood Manor as well as the rugged beauty of the moorland beyond. It was always a stunning view—but it was harsh and uncompromising, too. Had this craggy landscape helped make him the man he was? A man about whom she still knew very little, she realised—despite their forced proximity.
‘Have you always lived here?’ she questioned.
There was silence for a moment, and then he shrugged.
‘Until I went away to school. Then university. And then the army, of course.’
‘The army must have been very tough.’ Embarrassed now, she shrugged her shoulders. ‘I’m sorry—that sounds like a stupid platitude. Of course it was tough. I just. just never realised how much until I starting reading your book.’
‘It’s a novel, Ashley,’ he said gently.
‘I know it is.’ The words came out in a rush, before she could stop them. ‘But that bit… the bit where the officer is out in the desert and gets out of the car and when he turns back, he… he…’ Her sentence faded but she knew that his powerful description was vividly in both their minds. The flash of a bomb. Bright light and a sickening sound. And through the dull muffle of temporary deafness—the senses returning just when you didn’t want them to. Smelling the burning of flesh and hearing the gasps of the dying—and the sight of carnage all around you. ‘He’s… he’s you, isn’t he?’
His mouth hardened. ‘Why, Ashley? Is it relevant?’
She heard the sudden harshness in his voice and wished she could have bitten back her words. ‘Not—not really, I guess.’
‘My past is irrelevant,’ he growled. ‘Everyone’s is. This moment is all that any of us ever have. Understand? That there’s no point looking back and remembering. We can’t change anything we’ve done—we just have to live with it.’
‘Yes,’ she answered quietly—because that was something she did understand. Because wouldn’t she go crazy if she allowed herself to remember all the hard times of her childhood? ‘I guess you’re right.’
How calm her voice sounded, he thought. It was like balm poured onto his troubled spirit. He looked down into her face and suddenly his heart turned over. ‘Do you realise that your features look perfect against this winter landscape?’ he questioned suddenly. ‘Your skin pale as snow—and your hair the colour of the bare earth.’
Ashley started as she searched his face for signs of mockery, but she could find none—only a kind of dark intensity about him which made him look so alive. As if in that snapshot moment he found her the single most alluring person in the world. And she wasn’t imagining it—she definitely wasn’t—because the tension was so palpable that she could have reached out and touched it.
For one snatched second, she allowed herself the forbidden fantasy she’d entertained over and over again. Of Jack pulling her into his arms and crushing her against his hard and powerful body. For hadn’t she played out that scene countless times in her head as she lay in bed every night listening to his footsteps? Of him lowering his dark, rugged face to kiss her. Those black eyes gleaming some evocative message before his sensual lips came down to cover hers.
With a fierce determination, she forced the image from her mind. He was her boss and she needed this job. Needed it badly enough not to risk jeopardising it with anything.
‘We’d… we’d better get back,’ she stammered, and yet her legs felt as if they were rooted to the spot and she’d never be able to move again.
‘Why?’
She raised her eyes up to his. ‘Because—’
‘Because of this?’ Without warning, he pulled her into his arms, expelling a shuddering breath as he felt that first collision with her soft body. ‘This damned thing between us which won’t seem to go away?’
‘Jack!’
‘Jack, what?’ he taunted.
All she could see was the sudden flintiness of his eyes—and the cold glint of pain at their depths. And she thought to herself, Surely a man shouldn’t look like this just before he kisses you?
‘Jack, we mustn’t,’ she whispered.
