Chapter Seven #2
An hour or so later, Mollie was sitting beside Jago on his private jet flying down to London.
Her body was still tingling from his lovemaking, her heart rejoicing that he had finally talked a little about his childhood.
It was like a nailed-up door had been opened a fraction between them, bringing them a little bit closer, not just physically but emotionally.
She hadn’t told him much more about her past, but being able to share about her worries over her brother was an enormous relief.
It was so reassuring that Jago didn’t believe she was responsible for her brother’s issues.
She had known it intellectually, but emotionally she had found it hard not to blame herself.
But Mollie was uncomfortably aware of her other dark secret and couldn’t imagine telling Jago the real reason she had taken his grandfather’s payout and left.
For now, it was easier to let Jago think it was all about helping to get Eliot into long-term rehab.
Jago was sitting beside her and reached for her hand, his dark blue gaze searching as it meshed with hers. ‘There’s something I’d like to understand a bit better. Why did my grandfather offer you money? Did you ask him for help?’
Mollie couldn’t hold his gaze and instead looked at their joined hands. The fake engagement ring on her left hand glittered from the sunlight slanting in from the jet’s window. ‘I can’t talk about it, Jago.’
‘Can’t or won’t?’
She pressed her lips together for a moment before responding. ‘Your grandfather is a very powerful man.’
‘He can’t do anything to hurt you, Mollie. I won’t let him.’ He squeezed her hand in a gesture of reassurance.
Mollie gave a scornful laugh. ‘I told you before. He didn’t think I was worthy of you. And given the circumstances of my childhood, he was probably right.’
Jago frowned. ‘Look, he might be a grumpy old bigot, but it was my decision who to marry, not his. I still can’t understand why you didn’t tell me you needed money.’
‘You were in New York signing off on that big property deal,’ Mollie said. ‘Your grandfather…found out I wasn’t who I said I was, and—’
‘What do you mean?’ His voice had a sharp edge to it, his gaze piercing.
Mollie let out a stuttering sigh. ‘My real name is Margaret Green. I changed my name when I turned eighteen. He must have done some sort of background check on me, and suffice it to say, my criminal past was anathema to him.’ She figured sticking to some of the truth was better than telling Jago the whole truth.
He had asked her to marry him without really knowing who she was.
Jago’s frown was so deep it made him look intimidating. ‘What crime did you commit?’
‘Shoplifting.’
‘How old were you?’
‘Fifteen.’
‘Wouldn’t that have gone through the juvenile justice system? You don’t usually get a conviction recorded when you’re under eighteen unless it’s for a more serious crime.’
‘I know, but apparently your grandfather has contacts everywhere and uncovered my dirty little secret,’ Mollie said. ‘Wouldn’t the press have loved to run that story? Jago Wilde’s Fiancée Was a Teenage Shoplifter. Think of the shame I would have brought on your family.’
Jago’s features were set in tense lines. ‘So you took the money and ran.’
‘It was for the best, Jago. Surely you see that now?’ Mollie said, pulling her hand out of his. ‘You weren’t in love with me. We came from such different worlds. Do you really think we would have lasted the distance? We might well have been divorced or at least separated by now if we had married.’
His jaw worked for a moment, and his eyes glittered darkly. ‘Are there any other things I should know about you?’
Mollie could feel heat pooling in her cheeks and had to look away to stare at the fluffy clouds outside the private jet. ‘Everyone has things they don’t want others to know about, even someone as perfect as you.’
Jago made a scoffing noise. ‘I’m the last person to consider myself faultless. But I would appreciate it if you’d be honest and open with me. I don’t want any more nasty surprises.’
Mollie’s spine chilled to the marrow. What nastier surprise could there be than the one she was desperately hoping would stay secret? ‘Will the press be at your grandmother’s party?’ she asked after a moment.
‘No, we’re keeping things quiet for Gran’s sake. She isn’t supposed to have too much stimulation while she recovers from the concussion. There will only be handful of family and close friends.’
Mollie let out a sigh of relief. It would be hard enough facing Maxwell Wilde and Jago’s older brother Jack, let alone the press. ‘I guess she’d be even more confused if the press made a big deal about us being together again, especially when she thinks we never parted in the first place.’
Jago took Mollie’s hand again and began to absently stroke the back of it with his thumb. His touch sent a wave of heat through her body, making her wonder how she was going to face the rest of her life without it. Her role as his fake fiancée was for the weekend and the weekend only.
‘I’ve thought about that too, but I want her to have this weekend surrounded by those who love her. If there’s a press leak, then I’ll deal with it.’ Jago gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
Mollie did her best to smile at him, but her worries about the upcoming weekend were like tiny mice nibbling at the wainscoting of her mind.
Returning to Wildewood Manor as Jago’s fiancée was fraught with danger, but she couldn’t back out now.
On the way to the airport, she had briefly spoken to Eliot and his clinic doctor and been reassured Eliot was making slow but steady progress.
Mollie had also informed her boss she wouldn’t be returning to work.
The money Jago had given her would tide her over for months, but she really wanted to open her own beauty clinic concentrating on skin care.
Being her own boss was her goal. She wanted the security of knowing she was in control of her career, not at the mercy of someone else.
It wasn’t long before they were off the plane and driving down to Wildewood Manor in the Cotswolds.
As they got closer, Mollie’s nerves became more agitated.
The scenery was as picturesque as ever in early spring—bright egg-yolk daffodils everywhere, fresh green leaves unfurling on the trees, lush pastures, and even though there were light showers of rain, by the time Jago pulled into the grounds of the estate, the sun broke through and cast the manor in a golden light.
The imposing Elizabethan mansion was softened by its verdant surroundings.
The garden leading to the front entrance was set along formal lines, with neatly trimmed yew hedges of different heights and shapes on either side of the flat, soft lawns that divided the wide stone pathway leading to the front door of the four-storey structure.
Jago drove around to the back where the family usually entered the building.
He parked the car on the gravelled area that overlooked the rear gardens with a central fountain.
There was a kitchen garden as well as a cottage-style one and, farther afield, a wild garden and a meadow beyond that leading to a lake and a densely wooded area in the distance.
Jago came around to open Mollie’s door before she had undone her seatbelt, so engrossed was she in looking at Jago’s childhood home again.
It was undisputedly a beautiful property, but she wondered if all those rooms and gardens and meadows and woods had provided a cosy and nurturing environment for three grieving young children.
Was there any amount of wealth and privilege that could compensate for such a heartbreaking loss?
Mollie unclipped her belt with a hand that wasn’t as steady as she would have liked. She stepped out of the car, and Jago closed the door for her then held his hand out to her.
‘Ready?’ He was still wearing his sunglasses so she couldn’t read his expression apart from the tight smile on his lips.
Mollie slipped her hand into his, her stomach tilting when his strong fingers wrapped around hers. ‘I think so.’ She took a deep breath and walked with him to the back door.