The Bride, the Baby & the Best Man

by Liz Fielding

  ‘Why not? The pair of them are as thick as thieves. And I did wonder where Alice had managed to find a frog. Do you think her temperature was an act too?’ she asked, recalling guiltily that she was the one who had shown Alice exactly how to frighten the grown ups.

  ‘Oh, no. Really,’ Sarah said, flustered. ‘That wasn’t acting. Harry was distraught.’ She hesitated, then placed her hand on Faith’s arm. ‘He’s in love with you, I’m sure of it.’

  ‘Love?’ What was the matter with everyone? Had they all overdosed on Cinderella? ‘Stuff and nonsense,’ she said, gruffly. ‘I was just a challenge and he never could resist a challenge.’ Sarah gave her an old-fashioned look, clearly unconvinced. ‘He told me so himself.’

  ‘Well, if nothing happened—’

  Nothing beyond a few kisses, an uncomfortably heightened pulse rate. But he had blown on the embers of her emotions, stirred them into life reminding her what it felt like to be alive.

  ‘Nothing happened, Sarah.’ From somewhere Faith managed a reassuring smile, covered Sarah’s hand with her own. ‘Don’t worry. No harm done,’ she said, with a forced brightness. ‘Now, shall we try and find my shoes? I might as well try them on since Harry’s gone to the trouble of fastening all these buttons.’

  ‘And the very least I can do is stick around to help you unfasten them,’ Sarah grinned. ‘Unless you’d rather wait for Harry to help you? It would just serve him right.’

  Faith laughed obediently, although underneath she was jelly. Just how far would he have taken his game, she wondered, but stopped herself. Rather more to the point surely was how much resistance she would have put up? When it came to passion versus companionship she had the feeling common sense wouldn’t stand a chance. Harry must never be allowed to get that close again.

  ‘The hem is perfect,’ Sarah said, reclaiming her attention. ‘The dress is perfect. You’ll make a beautiful bride. Now, I think you’d better come upstairs before I undo you.’

  She was half way across the hall when Harry’s shadow fell across her. Sarah took one look at his face and beat a retreat up the stairs mumbling something about the children.

  ‘Did Mac find Julian a room?’

  ‘A quiet single at the back.’

  He was still doing it! Still tormenting her and finally she snapped. ‘How could you, Harry?’

  ‘It was all he had left.’ His innocent air didn’t fool Faith for one moment and she flung her fist at his shoulder, catching him by surprise, knocking him off balance. ‘Hey! What—’

  ‘I’m not talking about hotel rooms.’

  ‘Then what are you talking about?’ He saw the second blow coming and side-stepped it, infuriating her still further.

  ‘Oh, pick any one from five, Harry, but let’s start with your favourite subject, lingerie. You preferred the red one, did you?’ She struck out again. It was a mistake. This time he caught her wrist and pulled her towards him, holding her close so that her arms were pinned between them and she couldn’t move.

  ‘You know I did,’ he said roughly and she trembled as his arms held her close, at the sweet softness of his breath on her hair, the rasp of his chin against her temple. She so desperately wanted to stop fighting him, dissolve in his arms, but she couldn’t, mustn’t, so she flung her head back and continued to lash at him with her tongue.

  ‘Tell me, why did you stop with the nightdress? You said yourself you’d never seen such an entertaining selection of underwear. I’m amazed that you didn’t bring it all out, piece by piece since you were enjoying yourself so much—’ He stopped the angry invective by clamping his hand over her mouth.

  ‘No, Faith,’ he said, harshly, his eyes slate, unreadable, ‘I was not enjoying myself. I don’t suppose you’ll believe this but I can’t remember the last time I had less fun.’ He took his hand from her mouth, raked his fingers back through his hair, as if almost embarrassed by the depth of the feelings she had aroused in him. ‘Not that it would have bothered Julian if I had. If I’d found another man buttoning up my bride’s dress I’d have—’

  ‘Hit him?’

  ‘Probably,’ he admitted.

  ‘Julian isn’t like that.’

  ‘Julian didn’t even notice what was going on.’

  ‘Nothing was going—’ She was shouting and she forced herself to stop. ‘Nothing was going on,’ she said, quietly. Nothing she wanted to think about. ‘How did you persuade Miss Kenway she wasn’t needed?’ she demanded, changing the subject.

  ‘Muriel Kenway was a pushover. An old romantic.’

  ‘Like Sarah?’

  ‘Like everyone but you. Although I was beginning to hope—’ She was leaning away from him, but there was nowhere else to go and the fierce curve of his mouth was almost on hers, sensual, passionate. That rare kind of mouth that would look good in close up on a wide screen, perfect but for a tiny scar...

  She caught her breath and pushed hard, staggering away from him. ‘Sarah had an excuse,’ she said, angrily. ‘She thought she was playing cupid, not helping you in some game you’d devised for your own amusement, but I know you better. Tell me, Harry, just what was the plan? Did Aunt Janet ask you to use your charm to wreck the wedding?’

  ‘Wreck it? I can see why she might not approve of you marrying a man you’ve never met, who has convinced you that you haven’t the right to a family of your own, but why would she choose me to create havoc?’

  ‘She thinks you’re irresistible!’

  ‘How wrong can one woman be?’

  Wrong? Wrong? Didn’t he know how close he’d come? ‘And then you decided to make me look like— Like—’

  His forehead contracted in a frown. ‘Like what, Faith?’

  ‘Like the kind of girl who lets just any man choose her underwear!’

  The frown disappeared. ‘On the contrary, darling, if you’d listened to me you’d have bought long johns.’

  ‘Well maybe I will,’ she declared. ‘Maybe I will.’ And to her chagrin she burst into tears before turning and rushing up to her room.

  * * *

  A tap at the door stirred her out of a distant contemplation of her wardrobe. Having slept in her good trousers and silk shirt, she only had her skirt and her dribbled on jeans to wear.

  The tap was repeated and she stirred. Harry was standing in the doorway and for a moment, for one crazy moment she thought he was going to apologise. But he didn’t. Instead he crossed the room and opened one of the wardrobes.

  ‘I don’t suppose you have anything to wear tonight. Fellowes might be a bit slow on the uptake but he could hardly miss you wearing one of my shirts, could he?’ She didn’t answer. ‘Elizabeth usually leaves something behind and she’s about the same size as you.’ She wasn’t sure whether to hit him, or cry. Or both. But she kept a stiff hold on her face, refusing to let it show what she was feeling. ‘I ’phoned Mac and asked him to lay on something special for tonight,’ he continued, stiffly. ‘Your man’s probably got a ring burning a hole in his pocket and he’ll want to ask you to marry him properly, with lobster and champagne—’

  He turned and because she was afraid he could read her face all too well, she replied equally stiffly. ‘I’m sure we’ll think of some way to pass the time.’

  ‘Faith, don’t,’ he began, half-way across the room to her.

  ‘Uncle Harry?’ They turned as one to see Alice was standing in her doorway, a circle of peach rose buds perched lopsidedly on her head. ‘Can I ’phone Mummy and tell her about being Faith’s flower girl?’

  Harry seemed frozen, unable to answer. Faith rescued him. Rescued herself. ‘What a lovely idea, Alice,’ she said, quickly moving over to the child out of the dangerous gravitational pull that seemed to draw her always into Harry’s arms. ‘She’d love to hear all about your dress. Why don’t you hop into bed and I’m sure Uncle Harry will let you use his mobile.’

  The child looked at Harry. ‘Can I?’

  ‘Of course, sweetheart,’ he said, his voice ragged as he turned away. ‘
I’ll fetch it for you.’ He didn’t look back as he left the room.

  Mention of the ’phone brought her father rushing back to Faith’s mind. She still hadn’t spoken to him, but there was no hurry, it was perfectly obvious why he had rung her. He had been ringing to give her the good news that Julian had come home early

  * * *

  Faith gave a little sniff, found her handkerchief, had a good blow. This was ridiculous. She hadn’t wept since Michael had walked out on her, left her to pick up the pieces of her young life. Well, she’d picked it up. Put it back together again. She had a successful career and now she was going to marry a man she liked and respected. What woman could ask for more? And if tears had caught her out twice in one day, well it was nothing but pre-wedding nerves.

  She fastened up her hair, automatically teasing out the tendrils to curl at her temples. She made up her face, fitted her simple gold earrings. She slipped into her sandals and whirled before the mirror in Elizabeth’s dress, the fuchsia silk chiffon floating as if defying gravity. Julian couldn’t fail to be impressed. And Harry? Harry, she told herself, didn’t matter. Mustn’t matter.

  But as she descended the staircase the great oak door of the manor was standing wide open and Harry’s silhouette was outlined against the evening sunshine. He turned as he heard her hesitant step, his face in shadow and for a moment said nothing, then he stepped to one side to let her pass.

  ‘I’ve brought your car round to the front.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘It’s a shame it clashes so horribly with that dress. I thought I saw a black one—’

  ‘I’m not in mourning. And don’t bother to wait up for me.’ It was a cheap remark, but she needed to retaliate, to punish him for making her feel so torn.

  He must have known, because he stopped her, his hand so light on her wrist that she barely felt it. ‘You can fool yourself, Faith, you might even be able to fool Julian, but you can’t fool me.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  He took her chin and turned it so that she was forced to face him. ‘Yes, you do. You know that ten minutes after I set eyes on you I wanted to carry you off to my bed—’

  ‘Ten minutes?’ she exploded.

  ‘—and you wanted me to.’ They glared at one another. Then Harry shrugged. ‘Julian on the other hand is planning to marry you and he wouldn’t even kiss you in case he caught Alice’s bumps.’

  It wasn’t that. Julian wasn’t like Harry. He was reserved, shy, he could never have kissed her publicly. ‘Even you managed to stop yourself from making a pass for what — twenty-four hours?’ she retaliated.

  ‘Are you saying you didn’t enjoy the experience?’ His finger stopped her lips. ‘If you lie, I’ll tell Janet.’

  She brushed his hand away. ‘Do your worst. I’m too old to be sent to my room.’

  ‘I promise it would be more fun than dinner—’

  She was unable to resist the temptation to dent such arrogance. ‘Julian is all the company I need.’

  ‘Your nose will grow,’ he warned her, then gave a careless little shrug. ‘Well I’m sure with a little encouragement he’ll warm up, but he’s been in cold storage a long time, Faith. It might take a little time.’

  ‘Earlier today you suggested I’d be fighting off a ravening sex maniac,’ she reminded him.

  ‘That was before I met him.’ He took her hand and dropped her keys into the palm of her hand, closing her trembling fingers about them, the leather fob and the metal still warm from his touch.

  * * *

  Mac did them proud with a secluded table in a corner overlooking the river and there were flowers and candles on the table. Julian smiled a touch awkwardly as he took his seat opposite her and for a moment neither of them spoke.

  ‘Your photograph really doesn’t do you justice,’ he began.

  ‘You’ve had your beard trimmed.’ She couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  They stopped, laughed a little. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t at home when you arrived, Julian. I think Dad must have tried to let me know but we had something of a crisis last night with Alice—’

  ‘The mumps.’

  ‘It’s just swollen glands.’

  ‘I’m afraid I rather panicked. Stupid of me I suppose.’

  ‘No. You were right. There can be complications.’ There was a pause. ‘Tell me your latest news of the project,’ she encouraged. ‘Why have you come home early? Did your research grant run out sooner than expected?’

  He hesitated, looked at his hand. ‘It was to do with money,’ he agreed.

  ‘It’s such a pity. I know how much your work meant to you. Is there any chance that it will continue?’

  ‘One way or another.’

  ‘Good.’ Another pause. ‘Well, I’ve got a bundle of house details. I was going to visit the Cambridge area for a couple of days next week but now you’re here we can go together.’ He seemed to be miles away. ‘Only if you want to,’ she assured him. ‘I expect you’ve got a lot of things to do?’ She waited for some response and he looked at her, made an effort to come back from wherever he had been in his head.

  ‘No. I’ll be happy to accompany you. I just hadn’t realised you were going to arrange the wedding so soon.’

  ‘Well, you agreed that there wasn’t any point in waiting and my father is going to New Zealand for six months on an ecumenical exchange at the end of August.’

  ‘Oh, I see. Of course.’

  ‘I wrote and told you. And about my plans for a consultancy. Now I’ve left the bank I can’t wait to get started.’

  ‘You’ve given up your job?’

  ‘That’s why my aunt was able to blackmail me into helping Harry. She used to be Harry’s nanny so she was first choice, but she was having a hip replacement.’ She was talking too much. It was nerves. ‘I don’t suppose my letter reached you before you left?’ she finished, lamely.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Julian, is something wrong? You look terribly pale.’

  ‘Wrong?’ he repeated, dully, then roused himself. ‘Whatever could be wrong, my dear? I’m sorry, I’m still a touch jet-lagged I expect.’ He reached across and took her hands in his. ‘You looked very beautiful in your wedding dress.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have seen it. Tempting fate.’ She tried a smile. ‘It’s just as well neither of us is superstitious.’

  ‘No, indeed.’ He answered her smile. ‘Although I confess I could never bring myself to walk under a ladder.’

  Faith gave a little shudder at the thought. ‘Or put new shoes on the table.’

  ‘And I always find myself throwing a little spilt salt over my shoulder.’ His smile deepened. ‘It’s certainly a good thing that neither of us is superstitious.’ Faith laughed out loud. Encouraged, Julian stroked his beard. ‘Do you expect me to wear a top hat? I’m not sure it will go with this.’

  ‘You could always shave it off.’

  ‘It helps to keep the face protected against the cold.’

  ‘East Anglia isn’t the Antarctic.’ Her laughter faltered as she remembered Harry’s warning.

  ‘But— No, of course it isn’t. And maybe you’re right. It’s a symbol of my bachelor past and should go.’ He raised his hand to summon a waiter. ‘I’m afraid I don’t have a ring, I thought you’d prefer to choose your own, so I can’t do this properly, but I think it is now the moment to toast the future.’

  The evening was pleasant. The food was excellent, the champagne made them both a little silly and when he walked her to her car Julian took her hand. ‘May I kiss you?’

  She swallowed, foolishly nervous. She had little experience of being asked permission before a man kissed her. Michael and Harry had that in common, too. They both knew when she wanted to be kissed, even when she didn’t know herself.

  There was a moment’s awkwardness, then a tentative bristly touching of lips. It didn’t send her pulse-racing, or make her go weak at the knees, but then she had never expected it
to. And no doubt in time he would get the knack of it.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  FAITH didn’t drive straight back to the manor. Instead she drove up through the woods until she came to a small clearing. The short summer night had not quite claimed the sky and a gibbous moon lay a silver halo over the trees. She scarcely noticed, but sat on the grass, her arms wrapped about her knees and stared at nothing.

  ‘Is this a private party, or can anyone join in?’ She’d heard Harry’s slightly uneven footsteps coming up the hill and now she turned her head on her knees to look at him.

  ‘How did you know where I was?’ she asked, as he sat beside her, taking care to keep a safe distance between them.

  ‘You did the electronic equivalent of stepping on a twig.’ He picked up a twig and demonstrated, breaking it with a sharp crack. ‘You set off an alarm.’

  She looked around. ‘I didn’t see anything.’

  ‘You weren’t supposed to. I test new equipment all over the estate. I could tell you where every badger has its sett, every fox has its earth.’

  ‘I bet you don’t get poachers,’ she said.

  ‘No. The pheasants have nothing to fear but marauding foxes and egg stealing stoats.’ He looked at her. ‘Do you want to talk about it, Faith?’

  She shook her head. ‘There’s nothing to talk about.’

  Harry, elbows on knees, stirred the ground with the twig. ‘I hoped he’d be a wimp. An irritating know-it-all. Someone I could loathe. I should have known better. You’re far too sensible to marry someone who isn’t thoroughly nice.’ As Harry distractedly raked his fingers through his hair the moonlight gleamed on the pale skin inside his wrist and Faith’s heart yearned to reach out, kiss that vulnerable spot, feel the heat of his blood pounding through his pulse so that he would know that in some place hidden deep within her, she would always love him. Hardly the thoughts of a sensible woman.

  ‘Will you be happy?’ Harry turned and she looked quickly away.

  ‘As happy as I expected to be.’ At least as happy as she expected to be a week ago. Before Harry had kissed her. Before she had held Ben in her arms, cuddled Alice and remembered that long before she had been level-headed and sensible she had known what love was and her only ambition had been to be a wife, a mother. This feeling she had for Harry felt terribly like it and her throat ached with the tears she was holding back. But Michael had taught her not to trust in such fleeting emotions. The tears had passed then. They would again.