Wildewood

Chapter 9

ALEX

That probably couldn’t have gone much worse, Alex decided.

After she’d eaten a scone, slathered in rich creamy butter and the most delicious blackberry jam she had ever tasted, she poked half-heartedly around the pristine kitchen to learn where everything was. She wanted to rely on Nick Walker even less after that reaction. He’d just stormed off.

The door to the cellar was locked but, remembering the warning from last night, she left it alone.

Unsafe, Nick had said. Right. Sooner or later she’d have to check that out.

The company would want to get a surveyor in fairly soon.

It hadn’t been possible so far. Nick’s doing, she supposed.

He hadn’t exactly been cooperative. Well, that would have to change.

Now she was here she would make arrangements as soon as possible.

There had been another room she wasn’t allowed into when she was young, of course. Her grandfather’s study.

In a fit of grumpy pique, she poured herself another coffee and headed off that way, half expecting it to be locked.

She was going to have to ask Mister Estate Manager for the master keys.

She didn’t like the idea of being locked out of half her own house.

And it was her house, no matter what he thought.

Even if she didn’t want to be here, she could do with it what she wanted, including poking around, using whatever room she felt like, or selling it.

He did not own the place, or have any right to it.

Except he kind of did. Because Theo had signed that agreement. And Theo dying didn’t apparently get them out of it. Not easily anyway.

Nick clearly knew that if she succeeded, he was not only out of a job, but out of a home as well. No wonder he was unhappy to have her here.

And no, she didn’t need the money. She just wanted rid of Wildewood Hall and everything to do with it, once and for all. Given everything that had happened to her family here, who wouldn’t?

The door to the study, across from the hideous ancient mirror which made her look like she was standing in a fun house, was open. So she wandered in, but immediately stopped in her tracks, staring.

An impressive bow window overlooked the driveway where her car was parked. That area was dominated by a huge Edwardian desk. But the rest of the room…

It wasn’t just a study. It was a library.

All polished hardwood, reading chairs, and row upon row of books.

Leather-bound volumes with gilt lettering graced the shelves, some of them hundreds of years old.

They lined the three remaining walls almost entirely, only the area on either side of the desk uncovered.

It took her breath away. She approached the nearest shelf.

Her fingertips brushed against the books’ spines and she let out a little sigh of delight.

The History of the Line of de Wilde.

Legends and Folklore of Kilfayne.

The Master of the Revels.

The titles went on. Many of them were multi-volume works. She imagined Arnold’s face, the sheer delight he would wear if he caught a glimpse of this. His little research-obsessed heart would overflow. She really ought to tell him about it. Invite him over and…

No. Whatever there was to uncover before the sale, she was here on her own. She couldn’t have them here. She knew that. This place… this place played with your imagination, toyed with you.

Here she was assigning purpose and intent to a house, a building.

It might be old but it was not a sentient thing.

As these books would illustrate, her ancestors on the de Wilde side had been selfish bastards through and through, greedy and exploitative.

People had hated them, and rightly so in most cases.

They got what they deserved. That was all.

Apart from Theo.

Still, if something of their evil had managed to permeate the stones here it was hardly a surprise. But there was nothing supernatural about it.

Alex fetched her laptop and set herself up, defiantly, in the study to work.

The wi-fi details had been left on the desk – another touch of Nick’s efficiency.

He must have intended for her to work here then, which half made her want to find somewhere else.

She had never liked being told what to do.

But the light was perfect, the chair comfortable and the atmosphere ideal.

And it felt satisfying to give a two-fingered salute to the old man who had tried to make her life a misery.

There was no sign of Nick for the rest of the day. She made her own lunch, trying to ignore the feeling that she was scavenging in her own home. It didn’t feel like a home anyway, especially when it was just her.

The house made strange noises around her, as old houses invariably did. Pipes murmured and floorboards creaked, sounds echoed strangely. In the end she just put on her headphones and listened to music as she tried to work, until the light started to fade outside.

She took a break as dusk fell, stretching her back and standing up, turning to look out of the tall windows and down the drive.

A battered-looking truck lurched off the main road and eventually came to a halt beside her own car.

She watched in silence as Nick got out and fished his phone from his coat pocket, while heading for the house.

The big front doors opened with a long creak.

She heard him in the hall, his voice gentler than before, a voice tempered by affection.

‘No, love. I’ll be back down tomorrow. I promise.

’ He paused, listening, and Alex made her way to the study door, though whether to close it and shut him out or to let him know she was there, she wasn’t sure.

She didn’t mean to eavesdrop. ‘I know. I know, but it’s not for long. Okay, mo stórín. Don’t fret. Be—’

His eyes met Alex’s as she appeared in the open doorway, and a look she could only describe as guilty spread over his face. Whatever he’d been about to say, he paused and his voice grew a little firmer.

‘I promise. I’ll see you tomorrow. It’s Saturday so we’ll have the whole day.’

He lowered the phone and gave Alex a nod of greeting. ‘Sorry I’m late,’ he said in gruff tones. ‘I’ll get dinner on.’ That was all.

She wanted to say he didn’t have to. That she’d sort herself out, but now she looked at him, she didn’t have the heart.

‘And I’m sorry about this morning,’ he said before she could. ‘I was out of order.’

‘So was I,’ she said, because it was the least she could do, to meet him halfway. ‘And when you’re free, I’d appreciate it if you went over the books with me. So I can understand what there is here.’

‘All the better to sell it?’ he asked, but there was no real malice in his voice this time. More like regret. He sounded defeated. She didn’t like that but what could she do?

Alex shrugged. ‘I can’t stay here. Simple as that. After Theo, after our dad. You know about that, don’t you? From what you’ve said, Theo must have told you.’

Something flashed in his eyes, grief perhaps. She wasn’t sure. She didn’t know him well enough to read him. But he nodded briefly and then headed for the kitchen. Alex retreated to the study and closed the door behind her. It was safer.

Nick laid out dinner in the kitchen. A thick and fragrant stew, served with the rest of that bread. She didn’t normally eat a lot of bread. LA wasn’t a place for carbs, after all. But this was delicious. It made her feel like she was on more of a holiday, rather than… well, reliving her past.

‘I believe you were something on TV in the States,’ he asked.

‘Something,’ Alex murmured. ‘I’d rather forget it.’

‘Ghost hunting?’

Oh good, she thought. He knew. He didn’t sound impressed. Did Theo tell him that much? Did they have a good laugh about it?

‘The sceptic.’ She raised her eyebrows, challenging him. ‘There are a lot of frauds out there. And a lot of gullible people. And a lot of perfectly normal explanations which get skipped over in the rush to assign the supernatural as a reason for anything.’

‘But you must have seen things you can’t explain.’

Alex shook her head. People always asked that but there was always an explanation. Not usually the one they wanted. ‘Not really.’

He took a while to reply to that, as if psyching himself up for something.

‘You know this house is haunted, right?’

‘So I was told.’ Too many times. Gran loved those stories. So did Dad. He must have got them from her. He certainly told enough to Alex and Theo. Her mum had constantly warned him to lay off before they had nightmares. Dad never listened. And the nightmares were not his fault.

‘Theo believed that—’

She really didn’t want to get into that. Not with Nick and not now.

‘Theo believed a lot of things,’ she cut in. If she sounded curt, so be it. ‘Tell me about the forestry experiment instead. That was his real baby, wasn’t it?’

‘The rewilding?’ And the suspicion drained away from his features.

His voice grew rich with enthusiasm. ‘It’s more than an experiment.

It’s a vital transformation which could change the whole ecosystem of the island.

We’re restoring the estate as a thriving pocket of the Atlantic Rainforest in a way which… ’

Alex laughed as he trailed off, realising that he was about to start evangelising probably. ‘Theo got to you too then.’

Nick gave a brief smile, barely visible under the growth of his beard.

‘Ours is just a small part of a much larger campaign. And he didn’t get to me.

If anything, it was the other way around.

These woods are special. Old. He asked me to show him around the woods the moment he arrived and I was more than happy to tell him all about it.

The woodland here is some of the oldest remnants of original forestry on the island.

Really ancient. Most of Ireland’s woodlands were destroyed from the sixteenth century on. ’

‘Perfidious Albion?’ she asked, grinning. She had had this conversation with her brother more than once. A tale as old as time around here.

‘English warships needed wood. And forests hid wolves, not to mention rebels. Win–win.’ He returned the smile and for a moment she felt something shift in the air between them, something calm and comfortable. It was almost like talking to Theo himself.

Except in all the ways it wasn’t. His eyes captured her attention, brown but with glints of green and gold in their depths, the way his hair fell over his forehead and cast them into shadow. Alex licked her lower lip without thinking about it.

Until his gaze moved to watch her.

Her skin shivered, as if someone ran a fingertip down the side of her neck, the lightest touch. As if urging her to reach out and touch him. To kiss him.

A chill breeze blew through the kitchen. Alex started, looking at the door to the outside world, which was firmly closed. No draught there.

The spell broke and Nick cleared his throat. He stood up quickly, gathering their plates. Putting distance between the two of them.

‘Let me wash up,’ she said, trying not to babble and failing. ‘Fair’s fair. You did the cooking.’

‘There’s a dishwasher. All mod cons here. But sure, you can stack it if you want.’

‘You don’t have a special method for that?’ Everyone she knew had a particular way to stack their dishwasher. Even Gabe had a system.

‘I can always fix it later,’ Nick said, almost as if he was teasing her again. Trying to recapture that moment which had passed between them. He was almost flirting. And God help her, so was she.

But she’d heard him on the phone, talking to someone he referred to as ‘love’ and ‘mo stórín’, the Irish for ‘my darling’ or ‘my treasure’ or something like that, promising to spend tomorrow with them.

She couldn’t make assumptions. And she definitely couldn’t afford any entanglements with him.

The lawyers would have a fit. She was here to make sure that he was out of a job and out of his home.

This could just be his new tactic. She had to remember that.

Yesterday he’d more or less made it clear he didn’t want her here. And she’d barely known him for a day.

But as they packed away the dishes, she was aware of his presence, his gaze whenever it alighted on her, even his breath in the quietness of the kitchen.

It was like she could sense him without looking at him, as if she knew his every movement around her.

As if, should she want to try it, she could close her eyes and find him by touch alone.

Her fingers itched at the thought. Reaching out. Touching him. Being touched…

Her breath hitched in her throat.

Oh God, she couldn’t be thinking like that. She wasn’t sure what had come over her since she set foot inside Wildewood Hall.

She was not desperate. She was quite content with being single. She didn’t have time for any of this. And it was all going to be far too complicated. Just like it had been with Gabe. You didn’t mix business and pleasure.

Just thinking the word ‘pleasure’ sent another shiver through her body and she had to let the air out of her lungs in a gasp. Nick glanced at her, his eyes darkening.

‘I think I’ll call it a night,’ she said rapidly. ‘Long day yesterday and all that. See you tomorrow. Or… is that your day off? You’ll have things to do. So I guess I won’t. Don’t worry about it. I have work to do.’

‘I… sure, I guess.’ He looked so confused.

She just ploughed on, unable to stop herself now. ‘You can always take whatever time you need off, you know. I’m fine here on my own. Anyway, I’ll turn in. Goodnight.’

Her face had gone scarlet. She was so embarrassed and everything she said was making it worse. She was thinking things she shouldn’t be thinking, about someone she shouldn’t find attractive at all, and had no right to get involved with. Even if he wasn’t already involved with someone else.

They were never going to be friends, let alone anything more. He was standing in her way when it came to Wildewood Hall. And she was here to upend his life.

Alex fled up the stairs to her bedroom, passing by that painting she’d completely forgotten to mention to him. The man in it stared at her as she approached, his gaze lingering on her body, his smile taunting her.

She was sure that laughter drifted after her, deep and knowing. Not Nick. It didn’t sound anything like Nick. She wasn’t sure who or what would laugh like that. She didn’t want to know. She just wanted to hide.

Alexandra, a voice breathed, a sound of longing and desire, of raw need, of promise.

In a fit of anger, mostly at herself, she grabbed the painting, heaved it off the hook and shoved it face first against the wall so she didn’t have to look at it anymore.

In the morning she’d find a bonfire to chuck it onto. She’d build one herself.

And heaven help Nick Walker if he tried to stop her.