‘He’ll drown.’ There’s a note of panic I’ve never heard before in Jake’s voice, and he’s not really listening to me, so I give his arm a tug. Partly to slow him down, and partly so that I can talk some sense into him. It’s quite sweet though really, that he’s so concerned.
‘How do you think he got there in the first place?’ It is my responsibility to be the calm one here (to make up for my lack of responsibility when looking after him). ‘Flew?’ I flap my arms, trying to make light of things, but Jake is a man on a mission. He’s in a right paddy and is already stripping off his shoes and socks, and they’re flying in all directions. I catch a sock that’s flapping past my head, and dodge a shoe. His gilet comes off next and I must say he looks quite the part in his country shirt and thigh hugging trousers.
Unfortunately he doesn’t start stripping those off. I don’t blame him, it’s not exactly warm.
‘Christ, she’ll kill me if he drowns.’ He wades into the loch, and Harry starts to bark. ‘I’m coming, mate, hang on.’ Harry stands up and is wagging his tail with excitement, threatening to submerge whatever it is he’s standing on. ‘Wait. Don’t move.’
Jake dives, and Harry ignores his command and jumps.
It is now pretty apparent how Harry got out onto the log in the first place. I thought lochs were always deep, as in very deep. Some, it seems, are shallow in places. Like this one. In this place.
There is an almighty splash, followed by spluttering, and a lot of swearing.
‘Christ.’ Jake staggers back to his feet, spitting out water and wiping green stuff from his eyes and Harry does a good impression of walking on water as he bounds towards his master, delighted that he’s joining in the game.
‘Oh my goodness me, it’s Mr Darcy!’ Mum’s excited high-pitched voice interrupts the barking and swearing and I turn around.
There’s a round of applause. Shooting must have finished for the day.
Jake has an audience. There’s quite a crowd, with the obvious exception of Liam who has missed his opportunity to see what a real man does.
I glow in the shared limelight. I’ve never been the centre of attention for heroics before. I know the diving to the rescue was him, and I know it was totally unnecessary, but he’s my boyfriend and Harry is our dog – the new me is determined to see the positive side.
Jake has steam coming off him. Well, it looks like that in the sunlight as he lifts Harry up in the air, and bows. What else would you expect?
He heads towards me, bearing the wriggly dog aloft, and I really know I should take him, and we should embrace. But they’re both sopping wet, and Harry does smell a bit, so I let Jake put him down.
He has a massive shake then starts to run round excitedly, and at great speed, in ever increasing circles. Which effectively disperses the crowd, who do a bit of shrieking and run up the hill.
‘Oh my, oh my.’ Mum unfortunately has not been dispersed. She’s clutching her hands to her chest dramatically. ‘Your father has never done anything like that.’
‘I doubt many men have, Mum.’
‘And so handsome.’ She squeezes his arm. ‘Oh goodness, I feel quite overwhelmed.’ It’s my turn for the squeeze treatment. ‘You really must both come to supper when we go home.’
I’m not going to worry about that right now. When we get home I can say he drowned.
He grins, flips his dripping hair back and winks.
I can’t say he drowned. That would be nasty, and tempting fate. I might just have to say he dumped me.
‘Shall I take Harry and get him dried off?’ This is very unlike Mother. One, offering to help and two, agreeing to do anything more than pat a dog. ‘Then you two can have a moment. David, David, come and take this dog.’ Ah, that’s more like it.
Jake loops Harry’s chewed lead through his collar, and Dad dutifully takes the end.
‘You’ve never jumped in a lake to rescue me, David.’
‘You’d never go in a lake dear, the only time your feet get wet is in the bath.’
‘Well, Samantha wasn’t in the lake.’
‘Exactly. He went in to get the dog.’ Their words drift as they get further away.
‘You’ve never rescued any of our dogs from a lake either.’
‘We haven’t got a dog, dear.’
‘Just like Mr Darcy, oh our Samantha is so lucky. Such a blessing that Liam did what he did, well not a blessing. I mean you can’t call behaviour like that a blessing, but…’
I can’t hear them now. There’s just me and a very wet Jake.
‘Are you okay, Sam?’
‘I’m fine, fine. It’s you that jumped in the lake.’
‘But, Liam…’
‘Is a stupid idiot.’ I have stopped trembling now. The shock of the confrontation, and being so assertive, has been replaced by the dread that I had lost the lovely Harry, followed swiftly by awe at Jake’s heroics, and I am now slightly stunned at the sight of him looking so hunky and masculine (and it must be said, wet) in front of me. I am all a kerfuffle. A mass of messy emotion, which is probably why I am stuttering and staring.
I want a Jake all of my own. I fancy him rotten. That is all.
‘He certainly is. He’s a complete dick if you ask me. How any man could do that to you, I don’t know.’
‘Oh.’
‘That kiss, when we were out on the horses…’
‘Oh it’s fine, no need to apologise.’ I don’t really want him to spoil things by saying it was a massive mistake, or he felt sorry for me, or I’d have to pay if I want another one.
‘I wasn’t going to apologise.’ He’s so close I can feel the steam coming off him. Or is that me? ‘I’m afraid now I’ve done it once, I really want to do it again.’
‘You piled the cushions up higher.’ I don’t know where that thought came from, but it is true. Last time I thought that a bit of physical contact was on the cards (after our dirty dancing and archery triumph) I was let down.
‘Cushions?’ He’s looking puzzled.
‘On the bed, after the archery. You made the barrier higher.’ And it is actually my barrier – I built it, and am maintaining it.
‘I had to. It was a case of higher, or out of the window.’
‘Oh. You’re wet.’
‘Wet is good.’
‘Is it?’ I’m going to need this whole outfit dry cleaned, or at the very least dried.
‘Definitely.’
This kiss is even better than the first one. Our teeth do clash at first, because I’m not quite ready, but then his tongue starts to do this circle thing round mine and I couldn’t give a monkey’s what came first.
I never knew a man could taste this good, without mints or breath freshener, or beer. My nipples are acting very irresponsibly, and all I can think of is sex. And what his pert bum will feel like naked. And if his six pack feels the way it looks (I sneaked the odd peek when he was getting ready for bed). And whether the bit of him that’s pressed against the base of my stomach is really that hard.
And whether this means he does actually fancy me, properly.
I don’t think I care.
‘Shall we get back, get these wet clothes off?’
Oh swoon. All I can do is gulp and nod. I am a disgrace to independent women, and I don’t care. If he wants to throw me over his shoulder right now, I’ll let him.
We walk back hand in hand. He’s got very nice, firm, capable hands. Manly hands, the type you’d be quite happy to have undressing you.
‘I should go and find Harry.’ He kisses the tip of my nose, which is really quite sexy and not at all cutesy and silly like it looks on films. ‘How about I get a nice warming glass of whisky and then I’ll run us a hot bath when I get back?’
All I can do is give him a silly grin. He said us. Run ‘us’ a hot bath. And he can’t mean Harry, he has to mean me and him, which means we are heading for hot sex. I haven’t had hot sex for at least three years, and that happened by accident when Liam accidentally put t
he air conditioning on a heat setting he didn’t know it had. I thought he was all hot and sweaty from excitement, and apparently he thought the same about me. But at least it made him forget his routines and do the closest to ravishing me that he was capable of.
Jake is tugging, and I suddenly realise he’s trying to get free, in a nice way.
‘Fab.’ Oh God, who says fab when they’ve just been offered a night of passion? The only worse thing has to be ‘thank you’. But he might not have heard, the second I let go he is off. Obviously in a rush to get Harry, so that he can be back quickly.
I soon realise though, once I get back in our room and start to rummage in my drawers, that I have a major problem.
I have nothing to wear! I should have bought a sexy nightdress or something. Not just posh jumpers, walking boots and tight dresses. I should have been prepared for any eventuality and packed some kind of slinky nightwear. Instead of the baggiest, least sexy, pyjamas that I could find. I was aiming for androgynous, now I realise that if I wear these I will have achieved forty-year-old-bag-lady.
Bugger.
Now what do I do? What if he comes back and kisses me again? What if he doesn’t? I shouldn’t think negatively, he will come back. He is bringing whisky and the promise of a hot bath. And we have an absolutely ma-hoo-sive four poster bed. Quite frankly the bed had been scary when we arrived, something that was impossible to ignore. Now we are about to use it properly – without pillows and a fluffy dog down the middle as a barricade! I throw the cushions and pillows willy-nilly across the room.
Shit, I need to do my teeth, and spray perfume, and … I wonder if Jess has a spare sexy something-or-other? Although she is about a foot taller than me, and thinner. But I can’t ask anybody else because they all think Jake and I have been in a proper relationship for ages, so I would have packed posh undies and nightwear. I could say I’d run out, that he’d ripped the others off me in a frenzy of passion?
I’ll just have to dive under the covers, naked. Or is that forward? Isn’t it sexier to undress each other? Maybe, but not when you’re dressed the way I am. There is nothing sexy about peeling off sensible socks.
Oh bugger. I could text Sarah.
No, I have to ask Jess. Jess will have a boudoir’s worth of killer undies. Surely that is a pre-requisite when you’re getting married? And Jess is the only person who will understand why I don’t have my own supply. But Jess is also a size eight and I am a twelve, but I am sure if she has some French knickers going spare, they will stretch to cover the extra. French knickers are accommodating.
I’ll call her. No harm in asking.
There’s a buzz and it’s a bit confusing, because it’s not coming from the phone receiver I’ve picked up. It’s coming from underneath me, along with the hint of a vibration.
I am tempted to ignore it, because I really do need to prioritise or I could lose my chance of passion, and having not had any for quite some time I’m feeling quite randy. I had felt perfectly fine before. I could handle no sex. It didn’t bother me at all. But now Jake has kissed me, he seems to have flicked some inner setting to the ‘on’ position.
Whatever is under my bum has also been flicked to the ‘on’ position though. And when I fish my mobile out from underneath the rearranged pillows there are messages, lots of messages. Sarah messages.
Chapter 21
I have sent Sarah regular updates on the castle situation since we arrived. The first day I sent her a hastily taken picture of Stella, which was a bit blurry but very demonstrative of her hugeness. I also sent her a picture of Harry, and one of Harry and Jake in the loch. I have also sent pictures of men in kilts, and highlighted the fact that Jake has the best legs.
I have not mentioned that I do actually fancy Jake a little bit. Okay, make that a lot. That he has been the perfect boyfriend. I have not said a word about the new development. The snog. Well snogs, plural. I really should, but I’m not sure if I should share yet, or wait until after the hot bath.
Except if I read the WhatsApp messages then she’ll know I’ve read them, and I’ll need to reply. And then I’ll tell her, because I won’t be able to lie. So I could ignore them for now. Except I want to know what they say, because there are lots.
So I can’t really ignore them, can I? Something terrible might have happened.
OMG you won’t believe this! Sarah can be melodramatic, I probably can believe it. I found out why he needs a distraction!
I scroll down, and something terrible does happen.
A terrible, terrible something.
It’s a picture. Of Jake. Cradling a tiny baby. With a massive caption. Proud Daddy moment!!
Okay, Sarah is right. I don’t believe it.
As the need for distractions go, I’d say this was up there with the best.
I feel sick. I do not want a bath any longer.
Jake is a daddy? Jake can’t be a father. Jake has half a dog and an ex. How can he be a daddy? Liam’s nearly a daddy. Jake is a pretend boyfriend.
OMG I bet you can’t believe it?! I saw this on Facebook!!
It’s a bit fuzzy, because Sarah has obviously taken a photo of her laptop, with her pretty crap old phone. But it’s him.
It’s Jake!!!!
She’s even added that, in case I’d missed the fact.
When duf u sew this? I’m typing too fast, with trembling fingers, but I know she’ll get what I mean. I’m also locking the room door, and pushing the chair against it, which makes it hard to spell.
Just, but it was posted two days ago. Can you believe he’s got a baby?
No. I can’t. It can’t be true. I don’t want to believe it. Two days ago? But he’s here in Scotland. How can he be in two places at once? He did go to the supermarket on his own the other day, but unless he’s got a private jet or turned into superman then he couldn’t have gone home, posed for photos, and got back here. And that’s if you skip the messy labour and all that stuff. And he did bring Pringles back, in a bag that was definitely from the local shop (which actually isn’t that local).
Who knows? I don’t think she cares. There’s another pic here of a girl, she is SO glam even though she’s just had a baby.
Laura? He said she was his ex.
Who’s Laura? She doesn’t wait for a reply. She’s called Annabelle or Isabelle or something, some actress. Hang on. I’ll look. They are just like the dishiest couple EVAH
My heart has been doing this bouncing, palpitation thing, but it now sinks to the bottom of the deepest ocean, and Sarah is oblivious to my agony. Laura is an ex, but he forgot to tell me about the next woman in his life. The glamorous Annabelle.
Oh God yes!! She IS called Laura. How did you know? Has he told you about her? It’s the baby that’s called Annabelle.
Oh. Jake’s ex is an actress, a real one. A glamorous one. And he has a baby. They have a baby. Not just a dog.
And even if she is totally his ex, he is still holding their baby. A very tiny baby. An absolutely gorgeous, edible kind of tiny baby.
When people present their offspring, especially ones they’ve just had, you just have to say they’re pretty, cute or whatever, don’t you? Even if they look a bit like ET on a bad day, or just a bit battered, or bald, or just plain ugly. I’m not being nasty here, but they don’t always come out looking adorable to anybody but their immediate family, do they? But this baby truly is beautiful. Which makes it worse.
Off out with Appletini guy, catch you later?
Sure! I thought he was off the menu though? I feel sick. What kind of man needs a distraction from their beautiful baby?
After he’d talked dirty to me about the Milky Way and Uranus I decided to give him a second chance.
Have fun! I wish I was at home, and off out with Appletini guy.
I plonk myself down on the big, empty bed and stare at my reflection in the mirror.
I carefully pick the cushions up off the floor and put them back down the middle of the bed. With an extra layer. I might need to bur
y myself under it later.
Except I don’t want to get in the same bed as him, and pretend I’m asleep. I don’t want to share a room with him, let alone a mattress. In fact, I don’t want to share a castle with him.
He kissed me. It was amazing. But that is all it was. A kiss. Two kisses. I need to get out, before he comes back with his whisky and bath salts. I need to work out what I should do next.
This is massive. This, on the scale of complications, is much bigger than bringing a dog. How could he talk about Laura, betrayal, Harry – and not mention his baby?
I can’t go home and ruin Jess’s wedding though.
I can’t pay Jake and send him home, because then I will be poorer and I will have even more explaining to do than when I just had a fake date. And I still might ruin Jess’s wedding.
I can’t see him right now. I will burst into tears, or throw myself at him and try to batter him to death. And ruin Jess’s wedding. I need to get out of here before he comes back with whisky and his treacherous smile.
So I go down the corridor, and push open the door that says ‘fire exit only’ and see the last person I expect to, sitting on the stairs with a glass in one hand and a cigar in the other.
‘Dad! What are you up to?’
‘Shh, don’t tell anybody, Sam. Bloody impossible to find somewhere you can have a smoke.’
‘I don’t think it’s allowed inside.’
He winks. ‘Well, if you won’t tell, I won’t. Only place I could find without a smoke detector, and where your mother won’t find me.’
‘Ahh.’ I sit down next to him.
‘What’s up, darling?’ Dad moves in closer, and it is just like when I was ten years old and our rabbit had died, then again when I was fourteen and heartbroken over a boy, except now I am nearly thirty and we are in a castle. ‘It can’t be that bad.’
‘It can!’
‘Well, tell me, then we’ll see. Nothing that can’t be mended.’
‘This can never be mended.’ I know this for a fact, a bit like the rabbit. ‘He’s got a baby.’
The Wedding Date Page 20
