The Wedding Date

by Zara Stoneley

  What the hell do I do now? Just carry on clinging to his neck, without a clue about how to get back in the saddle?

  Oh God. Something has just gone down the back of my jeans. Something warm. Something strong that’s yanking me back onto the leather saddle.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  Oh my God, I know what it is. It is Jake’s hand. And it’s still in there.

  I don’t think I am okay. He has his fingertips only centimetres from my knickers, and his knuckles are brushing against my naked back.

  ‘No harm done.’

  No harm! Luckily the rest of the horse-riders have just carried on totally oblivious. ‘I’ve got a black eye.’ And your fingers are on my buttock.

  He pulls his hand out. ‘I don’t think you have.’ I’m not sure how it happens, but his tawny eyes are now only inches from mine, and he’s stroking along my cheekbone with a warm thumb. ‘You’re fine.’

  I’m not, I’m melting. I’ve forgotten how to breathe.

  ‘Twins!’ It’s a wobbly squeak. ‘Two babies?’ Partly because I don’t want to say it, and partly because everything seems to have stopped working, even my vocal chords are trembling. I’d move away from him, to try and recover some of my abilities (I won’t say senses, because every bloody sense is on high alert) but if I move as much as a teeny muscle I might fall off. Well, that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.

  ‘Yeah,’ he stops stroking. ‘That’s why Stella is so huge apparently. Double whammy. I reckon he thought it was something to be proud of at first, double barrel shotgun. But now the reality has started to sink in…’ He goes back to sitting on his own horse properly, and my brain starts to work again now he’s keeping his hands to himself.

  ‘She always was rather large though.’ She was, I’m not being bitchy. It’s probably because she sits in a petrol station all day, helping herself to Snickers bars and crisps.

  I realise then that we, or the horses, have stopped and we’re in the most perfect spot ever. The type of spot that you could share with somebody you love.

  The mountains that loom high, offering a protective backdrop to the estate, cast a picture-perfect reflection on the smooth dark surface of the loch, and we’re surrounded by every shade of green imaginable.

  The yellow of gorse burns a bright path of colour like molten sunshine tumbling down the hills, and the pinkish-purple of rhododendrons are an artistic splash that trace the path back to the castle.

  There’s no sound, apart from the occasional call of a bird.

  Even the wind is holding its breath.

  Jake is watching me, and it’s slightly unnerving.

  I stare at the water.

  ‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ His voice is soft.

  ‘It’s not as big as I thought it would be.’ Unlike Stella. ‘It would have to be more Loch Ness mini-monster or something to live in here.’

  ‘I meant the scenery.’ There’s the smallest of quirks to his mouth. ‘But apparently it’s a lochan, just a small loch.’ He’s still looking at me, and making me feel squirmy.

  ‘Apparently?’

  ‘According to Dan, but we had drunk quite a lot of whisky so whether it’s actually a thing or not…’

  ‘I quite like lochan.’

  ‘I quite like you.’

  He says it so softly, I could have misheard. But when I dare to look, his gaze is fixed on me, and his horse is so close to mine our thighs are practically touching.

  ‘You’re amazing, you know. And you’re the most beautiful thing out here. I need to kiss you.’

  ‘Er, you don’t, there’s nobody watching, they’ve all gone—’

  ‘I know. I mean I need to…’

  His warm hands are cradling my face, and he’s looking into my eyes as though giving us both a chance to change our minds, so I close mine.

  And he kisses me.

  Just like that. No ten minute preamble.

  And oh God, if this is what need feels like then I’ve truly never ever felt it before.

  This is warm, enveloping, tickle your tonsils and every bit of you that is capable of going all prickly and tingly.

  How can thirty seconds of mouth-to-mouth contact leave me feeling like I need to jump on the man and rip his clothes off? This is so wrong. So bad. I am his employer.

  ‘You deserve better than Liam.’

  ‘I know.’ Very squeaky. ‘I know.’ A bit too low.

  ‘I suppose we’d better catch up with the other before we’re missed.’ He shifts back into his own saddle and squeezes my knee.

  Bugger. If he’d fancied another kiss I would not have said no, it would have been rude when he’d been so nice. But he isn’t going to. Does that mean he doesn’t fancy me, or didn’t enjoy the kiss? Probably better not to ask. I have already failed miserably with my latest list, which stated quite clearly that I should not kiss him. My sub-conscious knew more than it was letting on. Now all I can do is try and forget he did that, and strongly suggest to him he doesn’t do it again. Or slip his hand down the waistband of my jeans on the pretence of rescuing me.

  ‘Yes, we better had get cracking.’ I say it in my best let’s get on with it voice, wave my whip in the air, and give Nutmeg a totally ill-advised hearty kick in the ribs, which is a total accident. I do blame Jake in part, because my mind is on escaping further kisses.

  Nutmeg throws his head in the air then lurches into action back up the hill so quick I nearly topple backwards over his tail, but manage to grab enough mane and saddle to stay on board.

  Then we’re on the flat and I never knew I really had seat bones until now, when they’re bouncing on that bloody hard leather like they want to make a hole in it. Pneumatic drill is the one thought in my head, but without the noise, unless you count my groans and shrieks. That’ll teach me to try and avoid a grown-up conversation.

  ‘Rising trot.’ Jake’s bellow comes from not far behind.

  ‘I know what he’s bloody doing.’ Why do people sometimes state the obvious? ‘How the hell does telling me what is happening help? Tell me how the fuck to stop him.’

  ‘I’ve never heard you say that word before.’ He’s laughing. ‘I meant do it.’ He’s alongside me now, and he looks like he’s just going slowly, whereas I know he must be going as fast as me, which is bloody fast. ‘Rise.’ I’ve never been so pleased to see anybody in my life though, even if he does look annoyingly relaxed. ‘Go up and down like I am, unless you like having your bottom spanked?’ He winks, which is totally inappropriate and leaves my face the same colour as my bum no doubt is.

  I do not like having my bottom spanked, and he’s right, it is a bit like that. And I don’t want him to get ideas. He’s gone all twinkly eyed and cheeky. I would like to point out that spanking is not in our agreement, but it’s quite hard to speak clearly when you’re being jiggled about and your arms are being jerked out of their sockets. I will keep that conversation for later, when I am on safer ground in all regards.

  Nutmeg appears to have got the bit between his teeth, literally, and he’s heading for home. I now know why they call it a spanking trot.

  I never knew you could get totally out of breath when your feet aren’t even on the ground, but what with wrestling with reins, rising to the trot completely out of sync with the motion, and trying to hold my legs in a position where they don’t get more bruises with every step, I feel like I’ve had a session with one of those bootcamp terrorists.

  It’s just like a scene from Wuthering Heights as Nutmeg gallops across the grass, heading for the entrance to the stable yard. Except I’m sure Catherine wasn’t hanging on to her horse’s mane like her life depended on it; she was probably sat still, not bobbling about like a pea on a drum, as Mum would say. She also probably wasn’t red in the face and gasping for air like a goldfish. And her Heathcliff probably wasn’t trotting along making bad jokes about hell for leather and hot to trot.

  It is even less like Wuthering Heights when the pony throws in a dirty stop, and sol
ves my problem of how to dismount. Apparently a forward roll is perfectly possible on a pony.

  ‘All done then?’ Sandy, with a completely straight face, puts one hand on the reins which are dangling over Nutmegs head, and holds out the other for the hat as I stagger to my feet and try to look like I did it on purpose.

  ‘All done.’ I brush myself down gaily. ‘Jolly good. Such a nice day for a little canter over the heather. Quite bracing.’

  ‘The other ladies asked me to let you know they’d be in the spa.’

  ‘Jolly good.’ I don’t know where ‘jolly good’ came from, it’s a bit like my mother and ‘supper’. There must be a much more appropriate Scottish equivalent. Sandy has gone though, Nutmeg following behind him like a tired old dog.

  I can’t walk. I discover this problem as soon as I try to walk away. I don’t think I will ever be able to walk properly again. My hips have parted company and between them there is a horse shaped space.

  ‘Maybe a session in the sauna, and a deep massage will solve the problem.’ I’m not sure if Jake is grinning because of the way I’m walking or because he’s happy. But I don’t care. I wobble off in what I know isn’t a very dignified walk. A few hours of oils, face masks and afternoon tea sounds just perfect to me.

  Chapter 18

  Jake is looking totally hot. Whereas I am just feeling hot and bothered, which is what a sauna and hot stones massage has done for me.

  He grins, and looks even more irresistible. His hair is mussed up, but in an exceedingly attractive way, and the top buttons of his shirt are open. I am just thinking that he has definitely got a bit of the bad boy vibe going on this evening when he proves it, by pulling me into a clinch and kissing my neck, which sends an indecent tingle all the way down to my knickers.

  ‘I think it’s time we showed your folks what a fun time looks like, don’t you?’ I’m a bit startled, and still recovering from the unexpected tingle, so I don’t really know what he’s getting at. Until he inclines his head towards the small, and empty, dance floor.

  ‘Oh, I…’

  ‘Oh, Samantha doesn’t really dance, do you?’ I spin round at the sound of Liam’s slightly nasal drawl.

  He is standing right behind me, with Stella in tow. We’ve seen very little of Stella so far, but this evening she joined us for the buffet and is now hanging onto Liam’s arm possessively. She is also wearing a scowl, and a very big floaty blouse.

  ‘She’s not much of a party animal.’

  ‘Oh, I think you’ll find she does all kinds of fun things,’ Jake’s hand fixes very firmly on my waist. I am certainly not going to get the opportunity to run off again with Jess this time. Although I don’t want to. I really don’t want to. With Jake at my side I feel strong. So strong I can feel my chin lift. ‘Don’t you, darling?’

  I’m glad he’s actually asked me, I didn’t want this to turn into one of those conversations when people talk about you as if you’re not there.

  ‘Absolutely, I love dancing! I am the queen of the dancefloor!’ I am pushing it dangerously here. I have been known to dance, even on tables, but that was in the pre-Liam days.

  ‘Oh no, she never used to…’ Liam carries on talking to Jake, and I can tell he’s irritated at being contradicted.

  ‘Maybe not with you.’ There’s a gritty edge to his voice that I haven’t heard before. Not from my totally laid back, fun Jake. ‘But you always were a bit too boring for her, weren’t you?’ He pauses. ‘Staid.’

  Staid sounds like the ultimate insult. Staid is middle-aged and totally boring.

  ‘Oh come on, babe, you don’t want to bother with them.’ Stella is tugging at Liam’s arm and he’s undecided. ‘Let’s go and sit down.’

  ‘Yes, off you trot Liam.’ It’s the casual indifference in Jake’s voice that makes me blink, and completely confuses Liam. Jake has already turned back and he’s looking at me as though nothing else in the world matters. It’s nice.

  I forget all about dithering Liam. ‘Well darling…’ That husky, deep smooth voice is bad for me. ‘Ready for a bit of dirty dancing?’

  I don’t really have a chance to object, or explain that my heels are too high, or we’ll be the only ones, or anything, because he’s edging towards the dancefloor as he speaks. And he’s holding on to my hand, so I’m going too.

  There’s some spluttering going on behind us, which has to be Liam, and when I glance up, Jake is watching me. His eyes are serious, even though he’s grinning.

  Then I realise what he’s doing. He’s opening the door for me, for the real me, the old me. He’s giving me a chance to start to be who I want to be again. I did tell Jake that I’d lost the real me, the girl who had tattoos done on an impulse, and I wanted her back. And Jake, it seems, is determined to let her loose.

  ‘Too right!’

  ‘That’s my girl.’

  And I am his girl as he spins me round until I feel lightheaded and dizzy, then pulls me in against his strong body so that I feel totally breathless.

  There’s some whoops and shouts so I get totally carried away and try a dirty-dancing style leap that sends Jake flying.

  I get the soft landing, him, but he’s laughing as he looks up at me. His strong hands still on my waist.

  ‘Bloody hell, nobody has swept me off my feet for a long time.’

  ‘You’re a pushover. Come on, I’ve not finished with you yet.’ I scramble to my feet and tug at him. Jake gets up with a groan. ‘Are you okay?’ Oh God, I’ve injured him!

  ‘Kidding!’ He winks. Then grabs me by my waist and I’m off my feet and being whizzed around. ‘Not finished with me! I’ll show you not finished.’ We’re spinning, he’s so close, our bodies are pressed together, his forehead against mine. His lips…

  ‘I don’t want tonight to ever end.’

  ‘It doesn’t have to.’ His husky voice is in my ears, his warm breath against my neck and I don’t care who is watching or what they think. Tonight I’ve felt more alive than I have for ages.

  It’s midnight when I look at my watch. I kicked my shoes off a long time ago, in the middle of a dance where me, Jess and the other girls flung our hands in the air and bounced about madly. I’ve done a brilliant twist, which Jake insisted on videoing, and now I’m slow dancing with the best dancer in the room.

  Our bodies fit together perfectly. His chin is on my shoulder, his words for my ears only. ‘Had fun?’

  ‘It’s been brilliant. Have you?’

  ‘Fantastic.’ He pulls back a bit, so that he’s looking me in the eye. ‘I really like the real Sam.’

  ‘Me too.’ I bury my head back against his chest. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Nothing to do with me, it’s all you Sam. Shall we go for a walk before bed, cool down?’

  I need to cool down, or I might forget the rules I’ve never got around to writing, and rip his clothes off.

  The fresh air hits us as we step onto the small deserted terrace at the back of the room we’ve been partying in. There’s no moon, no stars, just a normal sky hazy with clouds. But it’s beautiful. So quiet and still after the hectic evening.

  Jake sits down on the stone step, puts his jacket down for me, and we sit in companionable silence and listen to nothing.

  ‘You wound Liam up tonight.’

  ‘I don’t care about Liam, just you.’

  ‘You seemed really angry with him.’ I put a hand over his. ‘It’s nice, but there’s no need. I can do my own shouting.’

  ‘I was angry. I am angry. I know you can stand up for yourself, Sam.’ He squeezes my hand. ‘But he had no right to treat you the way he did.’

  ‘Laura really hurt you, didn’t she?’

  ‘She did, but I’m over her, it was who she did it with that really punched me in the gut. You think you know somebody, and then pow, you realise you didn’t know them at all.’ He studies our hands. ‘People eh? After what happened to my mother I never thought I’d trust anybody completely, then I met Laura and she turned my world upside do
wn. Guess I should have stuck with my first instinct.’

  ‘Your mum?’ I remember then what he said at the rescue centre, when we first met (which seems ages ago now) about his mum being betrayed by her first husband. About him running off with his agent and abandoning his family. ‘Oh, you mean what Amy’s dad did to her.’

  ‘Yep, what do they say, keep your friends close, but your enemies closer? But what do you do if you can’t tell one from the other?’ He’s talking about himself again now.

  ‘He was a friend, the guy that Laura went off with? Oh Jake.’ I hug him. I can’t help it.

  He drapes an arm over around my shoulders.

  ‘But we live and learn don’t we?’ His laugh is slightly harsh, and I’m beginning to see why he’d only help me out if we kept it on a business level. If I thought I’d been badly treated, what Jake had been through was probably worse.

  ‘I’m happy as I am, and I’ve got my career to think about anyway. Fitting a relationship into that can be tricky. Not many women would be happy when their other half says he’s off to Greece for a few months.’

  ‘True. So you’re going more or less as soon as we get home?’ It’s funny thinking that soon this will be over. He’ll be off to Greece for his big movie project, and I’ll be back at work. Finis. We’ll never see each other again. ‘Your big break?’

  ‘It is. A really good director, and film is what I’ve always wanted to do. I know some people prefer the stage, but I love the big screen. When I was a kid I just wanted to be up there, I was mad about the movies. Still am. What about you then, Sam? What’s your dream? How did you end up working in a travel agency?’

  ‘By accident really. Well, I love travelling.’ I shrug. ‘I had a diary when I was a kid with a list of all the places I was going to go to. I used to read a lot, and I wanted to go to all these fab places that I could picture in my head.’

  ‘So working at the travel agency meant you could get a discount?’

  ‘It was Liam’s idea really.’

  ‘Well, at least he got something right!’

  ‘Not really. He suggested I take the job because I was interested in travelling, but he didn’t want me to actually do it. The travelling bit.’