“Where are the boys?” I ask her. Robbie and Simon both came to the wedding and looked smart and much older in their suits.
“Jackie’s taken all the kids off to play some kind of game,” Zach says. “I think she’s hidden some chocolate bars around the garden, and she’s given them a page of clues to find them.”
“What a great idea,” Clio replies. “It’s always tough keeping children occupied at weddings.”
“Oh, what a beautiful gown,” Summer says, going closer to the wedding dress. “It’s not unlike mine, is it, Zach? All that lace, and that panel down the front.” She sighs again. “That was such a wonderful day. I wish I could relive it all over again.” A touch of wistfulness shows on her face.
It’s unusual for her; she’s normally always chirpy and cheerful. I think it’s probably to do with the fact that she wasn’t well not that long ago. I’m sure she, as well as the rest of us, pretends that her Cystic Fibrosis isn’t an issue, but her recent illness was a sharp reminder that it’s always there, lying in wait. Although the average life expectancy of someone with the disease is quoted as thirty-seven, this figure is constantly increasing as new treatments and medications come to light, and children born with it in this millennium are predicted to live into their fifties. But it must be on her mind that it’s possible she might not see her children grow up and get married.
As Summer and Clio wander off to look at some other items belonging to women who’ve lived in the castle—undergarments and jewelry—and Zach bends to look at William Larnach’s shaving mug and razor, I think about how we take so much for granted until we can’t have it. There’s me, feeling sorry for myself, unsure whether I want to stoop to having another relationship or children, when there are people out there who for the life of them can’t find the right partner, or discover they’re infertile.
I think of William, and the losses he had. Suffering is part of life. If the opportunity to live life to the full crosses my path, shouldn’t I reach out and grab it with both hands? Isn’t it selfish and childish to turn my back on an opportunity because I’m scared of being hurt again?
“Oh look,” Clio whispers. “That hairbrush—it belonged to William’s daughter, Gladys. Oh jeez.”
Zach and I cross to join the girls, and we all study the hairbrush. “Is she the one you’re related to?” I ask Clio, and she nods.
“My great-great-great-grandmother. How weird. She lived here. Brushed her hair with this. All this time, she’s been like a character in a story, and suddenly she’s real.” She gives a little shiver.
“Brings the place to life, doesn’t it?” Zach says. He stands behind his wife, slides his arms around her waist, and kisses her shoulder. I feel a sudden rush of admiration for him. He knew she had Cystic Fibrosis when he met her, when she was only eighteen, but he didn’t back away from dating her, even though he must have realized theirs wouldn’t be the smoothest path. They’ve had kids, too, even though it must have crossed his mind there might come a time that he’d have to bring them up on his own.
Summer glances up at me, and her lips curve up. “You all right, honey?” She reaches out a hand and rubs my arm. Zach leans his cheek on the top of her head and smiles at me.
“I’m fine,” I say, a little hoarsely. “Need some fresh air, that’s all.” I turn and leave the quiet room, and walk out through the house, into the sunlight.
I sit on the steps leading down to the drive. There are guests everywhere, making their way through the castle, taking a stroll through the grounds. With the men in their suits and the women in their long dresses, it’s almost as if I’ve gone back in time. I imagine William walking in front of me with Eliza and their six children, teasing them, playing pranks. Or Constance, sneaking out at night to be with her stepson. So many people have lived and died. So many stories remain untold. I close my eyes, feeling a little dizzy.
Someone walks down behind me, stops by my side, and lowers onto the step. I don’t have to open my eyes to see who it is.
She leans against me, her arm warm against mine, even through my suit.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “About Summer.”
I shake my head, then open my eyes and sigh.
“We try not to think about it,” she says, “but it’s always there, isn’t it?”
“For a moment, I just felt incredibly selfish,” I tell her. “Like standing in front of a starving man and turning down a plate of food because I don’t like one of the things on it.”
“I know. I felt the same.”
“She’s so open, Clio. She embraces life so fully. I envy her that. I’m not saying I wish I were in her position, but I suppose having her CF hanging over her has made her appreciate everything so much more, and I’m ashamed that I’ve taken so much for granted.”
She leans against me and rests her head on my shoulder. “I know what you mean. Like I said in the car, I feel foolish to pass up on the opportunities that others would kill for, just because I’m dissatisfied. I know other people think I’m spoiled, and at times like this I think they’re right.”
I kiss her hair. “You’re not spoiled. You have a heart of gold. I think you’re amazing.”
She lifts her head and looks into my eyes then. “I love the way you say things like that,” she whispers. “You make me feel good about myself.”
I drop my gaze to her mouth. And suddenly, I don’t care that we’re in public, that someone might see and tell Leon. I bend my head and lower my lips to hers, just briefly, and give her a couple of soft kisses.
Then I lift my head, and we sit there like that for a while, looking out across the vast lawns in the afternoon sun.
Chapter Twenty-One
Clio
The next few hours are filled with sunshine, laughter, and music.
We have drinks out on the lawn, and then, as the shadows begin to lengthen, we move into the ballroom. The organizers have cleared away the tables, and now there are smaller, round tables at the edges for people who want to sit, a buffet table at the top heaving with more delicious food, and a band in the corner, playing songs that get everyone’s feet tapping.
I love dancing, and so apart from a brief respite to eat a small plate of food and drink some delicious wine, I spend the evening with my friends, dancing the night away with Izzy, Nix, Poppy, Remy, Jules, Summer, and occasionally Abby, leaving Noah with Ethan, who’s fast asleep in his baby carrier. The guys join us from time to time, but they also spend some time at the bar, trying out the expensive whiskies, laughing and joking amongst themselves.
It’s a wonderful evening, not least because I’m hopeful that later I’ll be spending some time with Ryan. It won’t surprise me if it doesn’t happen, because we’re all drinking quite a bit, and it’s possible that one of us might crash out before we can get down to anything interesting. Or maybe he’ll have changed his mind by the time the party comes to an end. The sweet way he kissed me on the steps suggests that’s unlikely, but I’m not expecting anything.
And that’s great; I’m not going to feel sad about that now. It’s too beautiful a night. Summer’s around the corner, and although it’s growing cool outside this far south, up in the Bay of Islands the nights are warming up, and it’s not long until Christmas. My brother’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him, and the men and women around me are all falling in love and settling down. Happiness seems to be catching, and I’m not going to spoil it by moping around because I haven’t yet found my dream man.
The band switches to a slower song, and I go over to my table to have a drink of water. I’ve only taken a few sips when someone comes up behind me, throwing me into shadow.
“Can I have this dance?” It’s Bear. Wow, that was quick. He’s been waiting to pounce.
“Oh, um…” I can’t think of a convenient excuse—it would be rude to say I need to visit the Ladies. “Okay.” I put down my water reluctantly and take his proffered hand.
He leads me onto the dance floor, turns me to face him, and
pulls me close. His left hand grips my right a little too tightly. His right rests on the base of my spine, a fraction of an inch too low. He makes me feel uncomfortable, but he’s not doing anything obvious enough that I feel I can complain about. He smells of alcohol and weed, and I don’t like the fact that he’s much taller than me.
I glance around for Ryan, but I can’t see him. My heart sinks.
“Nice wedding,” Bear says, as we move to the music.
“Mm.” I wish I’d said no to him. I feel a little dizzy; a little queasy. I’ve been availing myself of the various excellent wines on offer, and I know I’ve drunk too much.
“So you’re Leon’s sister?” he says.
I nod. “How do you know him?”
“Went to the same school,” he replies. “Played next to him in the rugby team. Don’t you remember me?”
“No, sorry,” I say apologetically. “We’ve met?”
“I came around to your house in Russell several times, and we used to play rugby in the garden.”
It comes to me then—a tall, lanky lad with a loud voice. I didn’t like him even then. Jesus, he’s put on a lot of weight; he used to be super-skinny.
“I do remember you,” I tell him. “Your party trick was farting the national anthem.”
He roars with laughter. “Yes! I knew that would go down in history.”
I refrain from pointing out that’s not a positive thing and just smile wryly. “Oh I doubt anyone could forget that.”
“You’ve changed,” he says. His eyes glitter in the light from the fairy lights strung around the room. “You used to be such a spoiled brat.”
“Oh, thank you.”
“I remember you having tantrums. Your screams could have shattered glass.”
My face fills with heat. I don’t like being reminded about those days. I’m perfectly aware of what a nightmare child I was. “If you’re trying to get in my knickers,” I tell him hotly, “you’re not doing a very good job of achieving your goal.” Nausea rises inside me. It would serve him right if I threw up on his shoes.
He looks alarmed. “I’m only joking.”
“I’m not laughing, Bear. A word of advice, if you fancy a girl, pay her a compliment; don’t insult her.”
“I didn’t mean—”
I try to extricate my hand, but he grips it tighter. “Let go,” I demand.
“Easy,” he says as if I’m a skittish horse.
“I think the lady’s changed her mind.” It’s Ryan, standing beside me. He took off his jacket some time ago, and he’s rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. His hands are in his pockets.
“Fuck off,” Bear says. “She’s dancing with me.”
He’s four inches taller than Ryan, but Ryan just ignores him and offers his elbow to me. “Want to take a walk?”
“Yes, please,” I say gratefully. I try to pull my hand out of Bear’s, but he refuses to let it go.
Ryan moves an inch closer to him. “You’re stoned and you’re drunk,” he states. “Let go of Clio now. I don’t want to cause a scene at my cousin’s wedding, but I will happily knock you to the floor and drag you out by your heels if you refuse to comply.”
Bear’s brow lowers, making him look like a Neanderthal, and he crushes my hand with his. “Go fuck yourself, you rich playboy motherf— ”
I knee him in the groin, hard as I can, and he lets go of my hand and doubles over with a groan.
Ryan laughs. He turns and gestures to Hal, who he’s obviously primed, because Hal comes up with a couple of other big guys, and together they haul Bear out of the ballroom. It’s done so quickly that practically nobody notices.
“They’ll stick him in a taxi and send him back to his hotel,” Ryan says, taking my hand. “Come with me.”
He leads me out of the ballroom and into the Tapestry Garden. The sun has nearly set, flooding the garden with a warm orange light. There are totara trees clipped into topiary pyramids with balls atop them, colorful azaleas, crocuses, lavender, ruby and purple heather. Music spills out of the ballroom, winding around us like ribbons.
Ryan turns me to face him and takes my right hand gently in his left. He rests his other hand lightly on my hip. “All right?” he murmurs.
I nod, breathless, and we begin to move slowly to the music. My dizziness has subsided, and the nausea has died down.
“Did he really call you a rich playboy?” I ask him.
He laughs. “If the cap fits.”
“You think of yourself as a playboy?”
“Nah. I don’t think one fling in two years counts.” He smiles at me.
I like that he hasn’t been with lots of other women lately. It makes what we’ve had more special. I know it’s dumb to think like that—I mustn’t start thinking of this as anything but a fling, but still, it warms me through.
“Thank you for rescuing me,” I murmur.
“I don’t think you needed rescuing. That knee to the balls was pretty energetic.”
“There was a lot of resentment behind it.”
He chuckles. “Why didn’t you like him?”
“Oh, I’m sure he wouldn’t be too bad when he was sober, but as you said, he was drunk and stoned, and he insulted me.”
Ryan frowns. “What did he say?”
“Just something about when I was younger. I don’t like thinking about it.” I flush, because I know Ryan is well aware of the tantrums I used to have as a kid.
He strokes my hand with his thumb. “Then don’t. You’re a qualified veterinarian, and an amazing young woman. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to anymore.”
I lift my gaze to his. His eyes are dark in the dull light, his face a complex mix of light and shadows. He’s incredibly handsome.
“Would you really have knocked him to the floor?” I ask.
“Well, I’d have gotten Hal to do it, which is practically the same thing.” He smiles, but I know he’s joking. He was ready to step in and save me, if he’d thought I’d needed it.
“You make me feel all gooey inside,” I tell him, conscious as I say the words that I’m a little bit drunk. “Like warm caramel.”
He bends his head and touches his lips to mine. “I bet you taste sweet, too,” he murmurs. “I’ll find out, later.”
Delight fills me, as he touches his tongue to my bottom lip. “You still want me?”
“More than ever. More with each passing second.”
We kiss properly then, and as we stop moving, I lift my arms around his neck and sink my hands into his hair. How come I’m having emotions like this when I’m only supposed to be feeling this physically? But there’s more to this than the tingle down my spine, the tightening of my nipples, the clench between my legs. There’s a lift in my heart, a swell of happiness.
“I think I’m a bit drunk,” I whisper as he lifts his head.
He studies my face. “I wouldn’t want to take advantage of you.”
“Dammit.”
We both laugh.
“Please,” I murmur. “Take advantage of me.”
He brushes his lips against mine. “If you insist.”
Then we both sigh as there’s a call behind us, and we break apart to see the guests starting to spill out of the ballroom.
“What’s going on?” I ask as he takes my hand and we head back to join the others.
“Firework display,” he says. “This should be good. I know the guy who runs it—Kit Fawkes.”
“Fawkes? As in Guy? What a great name for a fireworks expert.”
“I know—he couldn’t do any other job, could he? He and his mate Tristan do amazing displays. Leon flew him down especially. We’re in for a real treat.”
We rejoin our family, and Jules meets my eye and lifts her eyebrows, but I just grin and shrug, and she laughs and gives me a hug.
A tall, good-looking guy with dark hair stands in front of us with a microphone, and he announces his name is Kit, and he’s the manager of Catherine’s Wheel, the company that has organi
zed the display tonight. He tells us to stand or sit in the nearby chairs and enjoy the show, as the sun finally disappears below the horizon, taking with it the last of the orange light, and stars begin popping out on the darkening sky.
They start playing music, which Kit tells us is Handel’s Music for the Royal Fireworks, and as the oboes, bassoons, and trumpets swell and soar, so the fireworks begin. There are a hundred different types of rockets throwing pyrotechnic colored stars into the sky, each burst accompanying an explosion in the music—it’s amazing. They explode in patterns that look like willow trees and flowers, while Catherine wheels spin and throw tiny stars into the darkness. It seems to go on forever, but eventually a special display in the middle lights up the initial L and N, inside a sparkling huge red heart.
All the way through it, Ryan stands by my side, and I don’t know if I grasped his or if he took mine, but eventually I discover we’re holding hands. At one point, he interlinks our fingers, and tears come into my eyes. I’ve definitely drunk too much. Or maybe it’s just the emotion of the day that’s spilling over. Whatever, I’m not going to worry about it.
When the fireworks are done, we all go back into the ballroom. Some of the older couples, or those with children, make their excuses and leave, including Noah and Abby, who obviously want to put Ethan to bed. My throat tightens as I watch Noah hug his brother, and Leon put his arms around him. The two of them stand there like that for a long time, and I know there’s a whole lifetime of emotion behind that hug. They’ve both had their ups and downs, their successes and failures and tough times, and it’s nice to see things coming right for both of them. Mom comes to stand beside me, and we both smile, thrilled that things have worked out so well for them both. I know she’s been worried sick about them for years. I’m pleased for her and Dad that for once she doesn’t have to worry.
“Just you to sort out now,” she says.
I blow a raspberry. “Good luck with that.”
“I saw you dancing with Ryan,” she points out.
I meet her enquiring gaze and give a wry smile. “It was just a dance.”
My Wicked Billionaire (The Billionaire Kings Book 6) Page 15
