Never Too Late Read Free Page A

He’d left and she’d wanted him to come back, but why hadn’t she tried harder to be with him?
    His laughter was mocking. “I thought not.”
    “You never asked,” she whispered.
    “I already knew your answer.” Reaching out, he cupped her cheek and looked deep into her eyes. “I loved you, Molly, but I wonder if you ever truly loved me?”
    Always, she wanted to say, but the word stuck in her throat. Had it actually been her fault? Could she have tried harder for them? If only she hadn’t stepped back…
    The accusation in his eyes burned into her, and in a silent plea for understanding, she covered his hand with hers and pressed her cheek into his palm, breathing in his warm, clean citrus scent.
    A light sparked in his eyes, and his gaze dropped to her lips.
    Her breath faltering, she stared up at him, unable to move as reality mingled with memory and she was transported back to a time when there had only ever been the two of them together.
    Lowering his head, he brushed his lips over hers. A gentle touch. And her eyelids fluttered close on a small sigh of relief.
    But all of a sudden, his seeking lips demanded more, and his hands spanned her waist, pulling her into the hard heat of his groin.
    Her slumbering mind jerked awake and she wrenched her mouth from his. “No! Oh god. Don’t!” Hands, arms and elbows shoving against his chest she yanked free from his hold.
    “What the hell?” Brian stared at her in disbelief, his face flushed.
    Cold shame drained the blood from her cheeks, leaving her trembling. She raised a hand to her lips. “I’m sorry. I can’t…” With a shake of her head she spun away, and yanking the back door open, ran out into the sharp evening sunlight.

 2
    Molly slowed her pace only after putting several yards between herself and the vicarage. Appleby’s wide Main Street with it’s shops and pub lay before her, but it was riddled with small-talk and well-wishers on this sunny evening. 
    Without breaking stride, she stepped into a narrow overhung lane, going from hot to cool in a blink as her sweat-glazed skin dried in the sudden welcome shade.
    St Mary’s Lane, named after the tall parish church that stood further along at the end, was empty and quiet, with only the tweets of birds preparing for their evening nests sounding in the tree branches overhead. And occasionally, the smokey smell of a back-garden barbecue rose from beyond the Lane’s ancient stone wall as she passed. 
    In that calm, she slowly unwound, and the stew of emotion swirling inside her settled into guilt. 
    That kiss. What had possessed her?
    Brian was with Abby now, and she had to accept that.
    But… did he even love Abby?
    She shook her head to clear it. None of her business. And it didn’t matter why he’d kissed her, she needed to keep away from him, needed to keep her heart safe.
    The narrow lane opened up as the soaring, red brick bell-tower of St Mary’s Church loomed into view. Beyond the church orchard, she glimpsed the headstones in the graveyard, mostly worn-grey, patched and aged with green moss, but some were newer, gleaming white. Her grandfather’s was one of those. They’d buried him eighteen months ago in the same spot as the ashes of her parents. What she wouldn’t give to hear his soothing voice once more. Quickening her pace past the church, she crossed the curving main road. 
    Set a short distance back from the road and half-hidden behind two tall silver birch trees, stood the white stone gate-pillars marking the entrance to Barrowdene’s driveway. Their seven-foot-tall wrought iron gates were wide open on either side of the driveway, a welcome invitation for all and sundry to enter. She’d never seen those gates closed. They must be at least a hundred years old. Did they even close anymore?
    Their groundsman’s small whitewashed gatehouse with it’s grey slate roof and never used squat grey chimney stood to one side of the gates. She hurried on down the long driveway,