The Wedding Proposal

by Sue Moorcroft

  ‘The thing is, my parents were wrong if they thought Ricky didn’t think my masters was important. He actively encouraged me in my education. He was always asking if I was studying enough and creeping around quietly so as not to disturb me.’

  Lucas was surprised. ‘So maybe he had some good qualities.’

  With an air of elaborate patience, Elle sighed. ‘He wanted me to get the best possible result that would get me the best job and earn the greatest amount of money. He was preparing to climb on board the Elle Gravy Train. First stop: Ricky not having to work any more.’

  After that, there was no need for further prompts. It seemed as if Elle was operating on automatic, set to ‘regurgitate’. It crossed Lucas’s mind that he ought to say, ‘Are you certain you want to tell me all of this?’ But he found himself quite unable to be so generous of spirit.

  ‘He wasn’t even subtle,’ said Elle, sadly. ‘But I still fell for his crap. When he said that it would help get my parents onside if we went to live in Bettsbrough, it didn’t even occur to me to ask myself whether he was right, but I agreed because it seemed as if I would be pleasing both Ricky and my parents. Then he developed the theme into how horrified they’d be if we went back there and lived together – so, let’s do the right thing and get married before we go. They might like him more if they could see that he had done the right thing. He even said “If they can see that I’m making it all about you.”’

  She flung up her hands. ‘Why hatch a clever plan when Elle will fall for a simple one? I went along with it. I even felt flattered that he’d give up his life in Manchester for me. Looking back on it, I expect he’d hacked so many people off in Manchester that he wanted to leave it behind, but it didn’t occur to me at the time.’

  He tightened his arm, pulling her closer. ‘Don’t be so hard on yourself. I don’t think your parents provided you with many street smarts. Condemning you and going off in a huff even when they saw what kind of guy Ricky was didn’t make you see that you had choices or help you recognise a user.’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head, wearily. ‘But they were still mega pissed-off when Mr and Mrs Ricky Manion turned up on their doorstep.’

  She yawned mightily and Lucas finally let concern for her override his thirst for knowledge. She’d had bad news; she’d sobbed as if her heart would break; she’d bared her soul. Her eyes, now they’d lost their pinkness, were huge with exhaustion. ‘I think it’s time for us to go to bed,’ he said.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Even though she felt like over-boiled spaghetti, the words shot straight to Elle’s groin. Wow, that would be …! ‘O-OK,’ she managed.

  Lucas was as still as a rock, probably wanting to yank those words back out of the air. She tried to think of a light remark to skip them over the awkwardness, but her mind was blank.

  Suddenly, everywhere they were touching felt supercharged: his arm strong around her, their sides pressed together.

  No wonder the child protection training had taught her that contact could be misunderstood. She was feeling twice as hot as the Mediterranean evening and completely unequal to giving him a quick grateful smile and extricating herself gracefully. Every inch of her screamed to be in Lucas’s arms for more than a comforting hug.

  ‘I didn’t mean it to sound quite like that.’ His voice was strained.

  She snorted a mildly hysterical laugh. ‘And I didn’t mean that to sound as if going to bed would be OK. I m-mean …’

  The awkward moment stretched out. Elle’s breathing played hopscotch.

  ‘Elle.’ His voice was a caress. He lifted a hand and stroked her hair back from her face. ‘Going to bed with you was all kinds of things, all of them a lot more than OK.’

  Shyly, she lifted her gaze.

  His eyes were glittering like black glass. His smile began slowly. ‘A lot more than OK.’

  Unable to lubricate her voice enough to speak, she just nodded. A smile took over her lips.

  He shifted so that they were facing one another, as much as they could within the confines of the dinette. He studied her face. ‘If I thought—’ His Adam’s apple moved.

  Elle found herself nodding.

  And then his head was moving closer. Until their lips touched with the lightest of kisses. Again. Again. Sweet, soft, barely there kisses.

  Then he slid his hands up into her hair and his mouth took hers, his tongue hot as it traced her lips, and she was pulsing against him.

  And it felt like coming home.

  In a blur, Elle was vaguely aware of them struggling out from the dinette, scooting along the sofas while trying not to lose contact, banging knees and elbows, almost falling onto the floor.

  She heard him begin, ‘Are you sure—?’ A question she answered by rubbing herself against him, smiling against his mouth when he groaned.

  Steering her backwards, he lifted her off her feet for the four steps from saloon to galley, putting her feet back to the floor so that he could fumble behind her for the door handle to his cabin. The door crashed open.

  ‘Be careful with Simon’s boat,’ she murmured.

  ‘All I care about Simon’s boat right now is that it has a bed and you on it.’ He paused to glance ruefully at his tumbled sheets. ‘I didn’t realise that I’d be entertaining.’

  She laughed. Then Lucas’s strong hands were searching until his fingers found her zip and unfastened it with a long, slow swoosh that raised goosebumps on her neck.

  ‘I’ve been fantasising about getting you out of this … thing,’ he breathed, sliding the fabric down her arms soooooo slooooowly that every hair on her body seemed to stand up and crackle.

  ‘Playsuit,’ she supplied.

  His laughter was soft and low. ‘Stupid name for it. I’ve worked out a route to getting you out of just about every outfit I’ve seen you in since you came on board this boat. Dresses that tie at the neck, shorts that zip at the side, buttons, hooks – I formulated strategies for them all.’ He dropped his head and nibbled her neck, his stubble brushing her skin.

  She tried to take half a step back to read his eyes. ‘You’ve been planning this?’

  He pulled her up against him again. ‘More dreaming than planning. If I’d known this was going to happen I would have been a lot more cheerful. I wouldn’t have acted like a moron about Kayleigh.’ He backed her up until the edge of his mattress caught her behind her knees. As she began to topple, he slipped his hands into her waistband and tugged, following her down so that, somehow, as she bounced onto the unmade bed, fabric was already skimming down her legs and off over her bare feet.

  ‘Impressive,’ she gasped.

  He grinned as he let himself down gently on top of her. ‘What else have you got to challenge my ingenuity? A front-loading bra?’

  ‘No. Just the usual variety.’

  He rolled so that she was on top of him, tasting the skin of her collarbone, her neck, exploring the strap across her back until he found the hooks and pinged them open. ‘So no particular ingenuity required.’ Then the laughter left his voice as the heat of his mouth found her bare breast. He groaned. ‘You are so amazing. I want you—’ He paused, his teeth grazing one nipple, making her jump. ‘I want you—’ He closed his lips around her and sucked, making her arch her back so that she could press herself against his mouth.

  He sighed and his breath passing over moisture made her breast feel both hot and shivery. ‘I want you.’

  Lucas woke slowly.

  Eyes still closed, he felt the lift-and-slide movement that told him the boat was riding a swell. The day was going to be another hot one: his naked skin was bathed in sweat, though not even a sheet covered him.

  Someone was breathing beside him.

  Elle.

  His eyes flew open and there she was, rumpled blonde hair streaming across her face. Last nig
ht had been neither memory, nor dream, nor guilty fantasy. She had been real beneath him. And then on top. Fresh desire rippled through him, pleasure and satisfaction in hot pursuit.

  He’d made love to Elle again.

  She lay on her front, her head turned on the pillow, one arm tucked beneath. Her shoulders showed tan lines. Her spine sloped down then curved deliciously to the mounds of her behind. He lay still, just watching her breathe.

  Almost as amazing as the sex was the fact she’d finally talked to him about Ricky.

  He wasn’t certain that anybody would understand how secrets made something inside of him turn to prickles and what it meant to him that not only had Elle finally shared what had happened to her, but, as a bonus, her ‘secrets’ had been surprisingly palatable.

  What it amounted to was that she’d made a series of bad decisions out of naivety and gullibility and married the wrong guy, in secret, a snub from which her relationship with her parents had never recovered. The memories had made her visibly cringe but, if he hadn’t thought it would hurt her feelings, he would have laughed and reassured her that worse things happened. Far worse.

  For many, the post-puberty decade was crammed with crap decisions and misadventure. They experimented, risked, smoked, overindulged, sniffed, overspent, injected, rushed, loved badly, chose stupidly, suffered, lamented and repented. Show him someone who had no regrets from their young-and-stupid period, and he’d show you someone with memory loss.

  Her parents’ bad reaction, echoed, unfortunately, by the sniffiness of his parents, had made her frightened to talk about her mistake. His insensitive dismissal of those feelings had made her clam up still more. But now that Elle’s barriers were down, there was no reason for her to be anything but open with him in the future.

  His stomach twisted.

  He and Elle could have a future.

  Picking up his watch from the niche beside the bed, he glanced at the time and then turned to stroke the side of Elle’s breast with one fingertip, savouring the softness of her skin. ‘Hey, sleepy. I have to be at work by nine-thirty so Polly will be picking me up soon. What time do you have to be doing your thing at Nicolas Centre?’

  Elle’s eyelids flickered; then she reared up onto her elbows, eyes wide.

  He grinned. ‘Yeah, it’s me.’

  ‘Whoa.’ She blinked.

  ‘Bit freaky?’

  ‘Lot freaky.’ But then she smiled, slowly stretching like a cat, which made him reach for parts of her he hadn’t touched yet this morning. Then she rose up on all fours, looking suddenly wary. ‘Are we OK? Is this—?’ She made a gesture to include their two bodies.

  ‘This is the OKest I’ve been in years.’ By shifting only slightly he could brush a row of kisses across her breasts. Her hair hung down and trickled over the side of his face. ‘It would be even better if we didn’t have places we have to be. Because I’d much rather be inside you than under the sea.’

  She breathed a laugh. ‘I have to shower.’ But she dipped so that she could lick the side of his neck, under his ear, where some of his best nerve endings got ready to party. Then she sighed and slid away.

  Reluctantly, he let her slip through his hands, and watched her walk out of the door, scooping up her clothes on the way.

  Stretching, yawning, he stepped into his shower enclosure, making the visit brief, as he’d soon be jumping into the sea. Towelling off, he could hear her shower still running. If she got a move on, they could have coffee together before they had to leave for the day. He hoped she had nothing planned for this evening. Then he could spend all day looking forward to coming home to Elle, as he used to.

  He imagined strolling to one of the pavement cafes, hand-in-hand, or soaking up the evening sun on the flybridge, lingering over a meal they’d prepared together.

  Before they went to bed. Together.

  His phone chimed, announcing the arrival of a text message. He was surprised to find it was from Charlie: How’s Elle this morning? Lucas’s night with Elle had almost wiped his memory on the subject of his brother’s presence on the island.

  He pulled on the shorts, stuck some euros in his pocket, grabbed a T-shirt and went out to fill the kettle. No time this morning to wait for the coffee machine. He spooned instant granules and sugar into two mugs, just as Elle emerged, her hair freshly brushed and pulled up high in a ponytail.

  He grabbed her quickly, before she could turn all shy on him, and showed her Charlie’s message. ‘Bro wants to know how you are. What shall I say?’

  She blushed and giggled. ‘“Better than might have been expected”?’

  He grinned. ‘How about “Fucking amazing!”?’

  ‘Don’t you dare.’ But her magnificent eyes blazed with laughter.

  Pocketing his phone so that he had both hands free to curve around her buttocks, he pulled her close and kissed her. ‘It was amazing.’

  ‘It was,’ she whispered, sinking against him.

  He decided to be pre-emptive in discouraging any elephants to materialise in the room. He felt certain that an elephant could do a lot of damage. ‘And I feel great knowing that you finally found a way to tell me all your bad stuff. Not that it was very bad. You know I’m weird about secrets.’

  The sigh she gave might have been imperceptible to anyone who wasn’t holding her so firmly against himself. ‘Yes,’ she agreed, sadly. ‘I know.’

  A heartbeat, then she pulled away, her smile in place and her voice bright again. ‘Right, well, I have to run. I want to get to the centre because I have to take time out during the day to talk to Dad and probably The Briars and the hospital. Then I’m working on Seadancer this afternoon. And I’ll talk to Joseph about the Bubblemaker.’

  ‘Right,’ he said, slowly. ‘Prioritise your mother’s situation. I could visit Joseph tomorrow, as I’ve got the day off, but don’t worry if you’ve got other stuff on your mind.’

  ‘OK.’ She pressed a quick kiss on his lips. ‘See you later.’ Holding her bag in front of her, she backed away, turned and jumped up the steps, across the saloon and away.

  Lucas stared after her. Despite the smile, her expression had been closed.

  He didn’t make the coffee. Instead, he locked up the Shady Lady, hauled in the gangplank, called at the cafe across the road for takeaway espresso and a couple of pastizzi, delicious little pastries filled with ricotta cheese. His appetite seemed to have disappeared but he knew better than to dive on an empty stomach.

  While he waited for the green pick-up, he took out his phone and reread Charlie’s message. How’s Elle this morning?

  He answered: Over the initial shock. But who knows what’s going on in Elle’s mind?

  Chapter Nineteen

  Elle made her way to the Nicholas Centre. Morning was her favourite time in Malta. The streets were abuzz with people beginning their day and the air felt fresh, as if the dust hadn’t yet begun to rise, making the light more lemon yellow than the heavy gold of sweltering afternoon.

  But, more than her journey through the streets, her thoughts this morning were fixed on her pulsing night with Lucas Rose.

  She couldn’t wish it hadn’t happened. How could she wish away the dream-come-true of Lucas wanting her again? The fierce joy of reunion sex? The utter untold back-where-she-belonged relief?

  For four years her skin had hurt for the want of his touch.

  Without even closing her eyes she could summon the hunger in him as he’d driven into her, the lips that had scalded her. The smile that had glistened in his eyes and softened the harsher lines from his mouth.

  Just as clear was the memory of the satisfaction and pleasure on his face when she’d spilled so much about Ricky. Her chest tightened. Had she done the right thing? It was more than she’d ever told him. More than she’d ever told anyone.

  By unburdening herself to a s
uddenly empathetic Lucas she’d breached the walls that she’d lived behind. The irony was that she’d let the words bubble out on the premise that it no longer mattered what Lucas thought of her.

  Then he’d kissed her and, suddenly, they weren’t as over as she’d thought, and it all began to matter again. Probably more than ever.

  Now he’d expect more. Ask more. She’d have this exposed feeling all the time.

  You know I’m weird about secrets. The words shivered through her despite the heat from the climbing sun.

  Glad at the prospect of a busy morning to occupy her thoughts, she turned into the courtyard at the Nicolas Centre, in shade at this time of day. Her heart sank as she saw Oscar seated on the rim of the dry fountain.

  He rose casually enough, but she had little doubt that he’d been waiting for her. ‘Good morning. It is always a good morning for me when I see a beautiful woman like Elle Jamieson.’ He let his eyes travel down her body and up again. ‘Yes. She is beautiful.’

  She could have brushed him off by saying, truthfully, that her mother was very ill and she wanted to tell Joseph then fill her time with work until the time difference would allow her to reasonably phone the UK. But that tactic would provide only temporary relief and give him an excuse to pester her with solicitous enquiries about her mother’s progress.

  So, instead, she bestowed on him a smile so wide that he blinked. ‘It’s a good morning for me because it followed a very, very, very good night.’ She rounded off her words with a big bawdy wink and had the satisfaction of seeing his jaw drop as she swept by.

  Once she was settled in the computer room, time passed slowly. Elle’s attempts at calling her father’s phone resulted only in hearing his decisive voice say, ‘This is Will Jamieson. I can’t take your call but do leave a message.’ It probably meant that he was busy with the hospital and The Briars. She knew the frustrations of being just one of many relatives trying to get information out of busy nurses and waiting for doctors’ rounds to prompt the medical updates.