The Jilted Bridegroom

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘And me,’ she nodded; when she was at home her work at the hospital kept her very busy.

  Griff nodded back. ‘And one we shouldn’t waste.’ He picked up her hand, looking at its capable length, with the fingernails kept deliberately short so that she shouldn’t injure any of her patients with them. Griff kissed the fingertips. ‘Let’s just enjoy this time out of time, and then deal with all the other problems as they arrive, hm?’ he encouraged softly.

  That had to be easier said than done, given the obstacles they did have. And how was she supposed to relax, when to do that would probably reveal her growing love for this man?

  ‘I don’t want to be too late back.’ She straightened, releasing her hand. ‘I think I should give the Forbeses a ring before I go to bed to see if the bracelet has turned up.’

  Griff arched dark brows. ‘You don’t seriously expect it to have done?’ he derided.

  She sighed. ‘I have to hope it might have done.’

  He shook his head. ‘Not unless that young lady has had a serious change of heart.’

  ‘We can’t be sure—’

  ‘Can’t we?’ Griff made a face. ‘I would say it’s a pretty sure bet. But if you want to telephone the Forbeses when we get back I’ll go along with that.’

  If you want to ruin a perfectly nice day, he didn’t say but his tone implied.

  And it had been a nice day, eating a deliciously prepared salad for lunch at the beach restaurant only feet away from their mattresses, in a civilised way at a check-tablecloth-covered table rather than sitting on the sand and eating half the beach with the food the way you normally did when eating on a beach.

  They had relaxed and dozed in the sun most of the afternoon, only finally moving themselves for the drive back so that they could shower and change before dinner.

  But the reality of the missing bracelet wouldn’t go away just because they chose to ignore it for a few hours.

  ‘Do you have any close family?’ She decided to change the subject altogether, rather than argue with him about it. ‘Besides your sister, of course,’ she added ruefully, having forgotten that Virginia Major was his sister with all that had happened to her since she’d first met him.

  He nodded, the expression in his golden-brown eyes telling her that he knew exactly what she was doing, but that he was prepared to go along with it—for the moment. ‘The aged Ps live in Devon.’

  She smiled. ‘I should think they have become even more “aged” than they need have been, worrying about what their son does for a living!’

  ‘My mother, although it isn’t widely known, is Barbara Hilliard,’ Griff told her with obvious pride in the woman who had become a household name in the fifties for her own adventurous exploits as she too had tracked down stories that no other reporter had seemed able to get.

  Sarah looked at him dazedly. ‘I had no idea.’

  ‘Most people don’t.’ He shrugged. ‘It was the one thing I insisted upon when I knew I wanted to enter the same profession. I either did it under my own steam through my own ability, or not at all. And, as Mother pretty well dropped out of the reporting world when she gave up journalism, not too many people were ever aware that Barbara Hilliard had a husband and two children.’

  ‘How did your father cope with her profession?’ Sarah asked with some interest, knowing that Barbara Hilliard had been one of the reporters of her time.

  ‘My father is a doctor,’ Griff answered, as if that said everything.

  And maybe it did. Doctors, and indeed nurses too, were more aware of the fragility of even normal life, so that the extraordinary was somehow taken in one’s stride.

  ‘They’re both retired now, of course,’ Griff smiled affectionately, ‘but still very interesting characters. They would both love to meet you,’ he added with certainty.

  Sarah gave him a startled look; the chances of her ever meeting his parents were almost zero.

  Almost…?

  Why even that small element of doubt? Once she left France she was unlikely to see Griff again. She had to accept that.

  Giving Griff an answer to his statement was unnecessary as their main course arrived and their attention was drawn to that.

  But that didn’t end Sarah’s inner curiosity about the couple who had produced this fascinating man. She would have liked nothing better than to meet them one day…

  But the turn of their conversation had made her wonder, and not for the first time, if it had been Sandra Preston’s inability to cope with Griff’s profession that had made her cry off the wedding at the last moment like that. Although Griff seemed to be taking an indefinite break away from journalism for the moment, so that didn’t exactly add up…

  And there was no way she could turn around and ask him why his chosen bride had decided not to marry him after all!

  Even if she did long to know.

  * * *

  They walked back up to the villa from the restaurant, satisfied with the good food and the equally good company. Although Sarah wasn’t so sure she had been that for Griff. But he seemed happy enough, humming softly to himself as they walked along, having placed her hand firmly in the crook of his arm before they’d set out.

  He stopped at the top of the driveway to the villa, his hands coming up to cup either side of her face. ‘Before we get back I’m going to kiss you goodnight,’ he warned. ‘I don’t want to be accused of taking advantage of the situation.’

  Colour heated her cheeks in the dusky darkness, more so because of her earlier apprehension. ‘Oh, but—’

  ‘Only joking, Sarah,’ he teased softly. ‘I know you, and myself, well enough to know there won’t be any accusations like that!’

  Sarah could see the outline of his face in the moonlight, knew he was going to kiss her, despite the teasing, her lips parting in mute invitation as she raised her face to his.

  It was what she had been longing for all day; she knew that as soon as his lips claimed hers, her pulse leaping, excitement coursing through her body, her arms going up about his neck to pull him down to her.

  Lights flashed, voices talked in her head—

  She looked up dazedly at Griff as he broke the kiss to pull back, his expression unmistakably grim while he looked about them, his whole body tense.

  Sarah swallowed hard. ‘What is it?’ She frowned, turning slightly herself now as the engine of the car they had passed parked on the hill several yards away leapt into life, its light blazing as it sped off down the hill.

  ‘Damn,’ Griff muttered between clenched teeth. ‘Damn, damn, damn! So much for my claim this afternoon that we had time to spend getting to know each other.’ He thrust his hands into his trouser pockets. ‘Our solitude has been well and truly shattered now. Damn!’ He kicked at the stones on the road at his feet.

  She shook her head, still puzzled. ‘I don’t—’

  ‘Did you see the flashing lights just now?’ Griff grated impatiently.

  Flashing lights… and voices talking… Was Griff saying that hadn’t been inside her head?

  ‘It was a camera, Sarah,’ he explained hardly, staring frustratedly after the fast-disappearing car. ‘Some ba— The swine took a photograph of us just now as we kissed.’ He sighed. ‘By tomorrow morning our photograph will be emblazoned on the first page of every rubbish newspaper in England!’

  ‘Where are you, Griff?’ they had demanded to know.

  And now they knew.

  And they also knew who he was with.

  Oh, God…!

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  GRIFF made them both coffee once they were inside the villa, both of them fully aware of the publicity that was going to be showered upon them once Griff’s whereabouts became public knowledge. Especially as it appeared he had another woman living there with him. After the passionate kiss the camera had captured for all time no one was going to believe they occupied separate bedrooms in the villa!

  ‘How could they have found out where you are?’ Sarah said with dismay.


  Griff’s expression was still grim. ‘How indeed?’ he drawled slowly. ‘Want to lay any bets on this one?’ he added heavily.

  She frowned up at him in some surprise, her eyes widening as his full implication became clear. ‘You can’t be serious?’ she dismissed. ‘Sally couldn’t have—’

  ‘I told you that young lady was dangerous,’ he rasped. ‘And I meant it. I know the type. I’m not fooling myself she actually gives a damn about me, but she’s just young enough to think that if she could get you out of the way she might stand a chance with me herself. But she’s way out of line with that way of thinking.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t know, they talk about “a woman scorned”, but I think a teenager scorned is much more dangerous!’

  Sarah stared at him. ‘You talk as if from experience.’

  He shrugged. ‘Young girls seem to find the slightly risky side to my profession attractive. The need to make me a conquest seems to become doubly important.’ He shook his head. ‘Maybe some men find that type of attraction—a young girl’s for an older man—flattering. I just find it embarrassingly awkward.’

  She knew he was right about Sally’s infatuation for him being half because of who he was and not the person he was, but even so… ‘I can’t believe she would inform the Press of your whereabouts,’ she dismissed confidently.

  Griff’s expression softened as he read the puzzled hurt on her face. ‘You can be very naïve, Sarah, naïvely sweet,’ he added indulgently. ‘Perhaps that’s why I—’ He broke off, straightening briskly. ‘I believe we have to make a decision now, and stick to it.’ His voice had hardened firmly. ‘We either move on elsewhere, separately if that’s what you want—’ but, from his tone, he obviously didn’t ‘—or we can stay on here, together, and brave it out.’ He looked at her challengingly.

  Her photograph, with Griff, the two of them kissing each other, emblazoned across English newspapers. It was a horrifying thought, but it was something that was completely out of her hands.

  She looked across at Griff hopefully. ‘I don’t suppose you could… telephone some of the people you know in journalism, and try to—well, get the photograph squashed…? No,’ she grimaced as he continued to look at her steadily, almost pityingly, ‘I thought not.’ She sighed. ‘Well, I’ll have to telephone my mother and warn her what to expect.’

  And Simon—what would he make of her in a passionate clinch with Griff Morgan?

  Oh, damn Simon, what did it matter what he thought? He was too busy trying to patch up his marriage to Fiona to give a damn about anyone else!

  ‘My mother isn’t going to understand,’ she grimaced knowingly, easily able to envisage the difficulty there was going to be explaining this situation to her mother.

  ‘Let me talk to her,’ Griff instantly offered.

  Sarah’s eyes widened. ‘You?’

  His mouth twisted. ‘Believe it or not, I am capable of talking to women your mother’s age.’

  The trouble was, he could talk to, and charm, women of all ages. Maybe if he weren’t so damned attractive none of this would have happened in the first place!

  She was being unfair now, and she knew it, but Griff would possibly understand if he knew her mother…

  ‘Be my guest,’ she invited. ‘But I’m warning you, Clarissa is one of her oldest and dearest friends,’ she added as she picked up the receiver and began to dial; it was late to telephone her mother at all, but it had to be better to warn her now what to expect than leaving her to find out for herself in the morning.

  ‘And you’re her daughter,’ Griff reminded softly.

  Sarah grimaced, only half listening to the ring of the telephone against her ear, knowing her mother would already have gone to bed by this time, that it would take her some time to get down the stairs to answer the call. ‘She’s been a little disappointed already in my behaviour lately.’ She shrugged.

  ‘The married man?’ Griff dismissed. ‘We can all be deceived into believing something is right if we want it badly enough at the time.’

  ‘How—?’

  ‘You wanted someone to love. I wanted someone to love.’ He shrugged. ‘We just weren’t patient enough to wait for the right person to come along for us to love.’

  The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down her spine. ‘But—Ah, Mummy.’ She spoke into the receiver as her mother at last picked up the telephone her end. ‘I know it’s late, but— Everyone is fine,’ she assured at her mother’s panicked query now that she was fully awake and had realised who her caller was. ‘No, I’m still in France. Yes, I—-’

  ‘Give it to me,’ Griff instructed indulgently as she could only manage to answer her mother’s worried questioning, holding out a hand for the receiver.

  Sarah looked at him, wondering what he thought he could do any differently to her as her mother continued to gabble on at the other end of the telephone. But surely he couldn’t do any worse than she had?

  She handed him the receiver.

  ‘Mrs Williams?’ His pleasant query obviously had the desired effect, and he winked at Sarah, having her mother’s full attention now, quietly but firmly beginning to talk.

  It all sounded so straightforward coming from him, Sally’s bitchiness over Simon as her initial reason for moving out not even mentioned, the missing bracelet explained in such a way that Griff had to calm her mother’s indignation at the unfairness that had been dealt Sarah.

  Their own friendship he explained smoothly before coming to the little fact that there would probably be a photograph of the two of them together published the following day, and that it was something they would all just have to get used to, no matter how much they disliked the intrusion.

  What he went on to say next made Sarah gasp, her responses made automatically when Griff at last put her back on to her mother.

  By the time she’d ended the call she was so angry with Griff that she could have hit him!

  She slammed the receiver down, turning on him. ‘Well, that was really clever, really helpful,’ she stormed. ‘ “Let me talk to her,” ’ she mimicked. ‘“I am capable of talking to women your mother’s age,”’ she scorned again. ‘You really helped the ridiculousness of this situation by telling her we were going to be married!’ she blazed, breathing hard as she relived again that mind-numbing moment when he had made that announcement to her mother.

  He looked unperturbed. ‘She accepted your staying here with me, didn’t she?’ he dismissed.

  ‘Oh, yes, she—Oh, never mind!’ Sarah bit out disgustedly. ‘I’m going to bed. I have a headache!’

  One big headache, and his name was Griff Morgan!

  CHAPTER NINE

  SARAH didn’t want to wake up the next morning, certainly didn’t want to get up, burrowing under the bedclothes, wishing the day would just go away and leave her to her misery.

  But the sun continued to shine remorselessly through the curtains, and she knew there was no way any of this was going to go away and leave her alone, however much she wanted it to.

  But, if she had thought yesterday was bad, how much worse, with that awful photograph imminent, was today going to be?

  She had got through before, after Simon, and she would, somehow, have to get through this too. If only Griff hadn’t complicated things with her mother. Telling her the two of them were going to be married…

  She hadn’t slept for hours after coming to bed last night, just lying here, going over and over in her mind what it would be like if it were really true. Griff, she felt sure, once committed to the relationship, would make a wonderful husband.

  But she wasn’t going to be the lucky woman who became his wife.

  Rather than still feeling anger towards Sandra Preston, she began to feel pity. The other woman, for all the heartache Griff’s career might have given her—for Sarah still couldn’t believe there was any other reason why the other woman hadn’t gone through with the marriage!—couldn’t have known what a wonderful man she’d had in Griff.

  Sarah knew,
realised how much loyalty Griff had already shown her, unshakeable in his belief in her innocence. He was like one of those heroes in the old-fashioned black and white films she loved so much.

  Just her luck to go and find her own real-life hero in the midst of so much chaos in the rest of her life!

  She was starting to wonder if happy-ever-after endings really happened…

  She showered quickly, washing her hair to leave it to dry in the warmth of the day, pulling on white shorts and a loose white top, wondering if she had chosen the virginal colour deliberately, and then not caring whether she had or not, the delicious smell of coffee urging her to the kitchen.

  She could hear voices in there as she approached, wondering if someone had come over from the neighbouring villa to tell them how the search for the bracelet was going; the flashing camera and then Griff’s conversation with her mother had put all thought of telephoning the Forbeses from her mind the night before.

  But the two men seated at the breakfast bar with Griff were complete strangers to her, delicate colour staining her cheeks as they both looked across at her curiously.

  Griff got up to cross the room to her side, wearing casual trousers and a short-sleeved navy blue shirt. ‘Morning, love.’ He kissed her lightly on the cheek, his arm going casually about her shoulders as he guided her fully into the room. ‘Come and meet two of my ex-colleagues,’ he invited lightly, his arm tightening about her slightly as he felt her stiffen next to him. ‘I found them skulking in the bushes this morning,’ he added confidingly, with a mocking smile in the direction of the two slightly abashed men. ‘And, knowing how uncomfortable that can be, I decided it was kinder to invite them in for coffee,’ he derided.