Harlequin Romance April 2015 Box Set

by Michelle Douglas, Jessica Gilmore, Jennifer Faye

  ‘I told you I had been doing a lot of thinking,’ he said as they stepped back into the courtyard. The wind was still sharp but the sun had come out, slanting through the grey clouds, shining onto the golden stone of the main house. Seb had a glimpse of a future, of children running in and out of the door, games in the courtyard, dens in the wood.

  If he could just convince her to stay.

  ‘I’ve resigned from the university.’

  She came to an abrupt stop. ‘You’ve what?’

  ‘Resigned. I’ll still write, of course. In fact, without my academic commitments I’ll have more time to write, more time to explore other periods, other stories.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m needed here.’ But that wasn’t all of it. ‘I love delving into the past, you know that. And I loved academia too. Because it was safe, there were rules. When I was a boy—’ he inhaled, steady against the rush of memories ‘—I just wanted to keep my head down, to do the right thing. At school, as long as you worked hard, played hard and didn’t tell tales then life was easy. I liked that. It was safe compared to the turbulence of my parents’ existence. In a way I guess I never left school. Straight to university and then on an academic path. Everything was clear, easy. I knew exactly what I had to do, what was expected of me—until I inherited Hawksley.

  ‘Until I met you.’

  A quiver passed through her but she didn’t speak as they walked around the house and in through the main door, towards the library, their steps in harmony. He pushed the library door open and stood there, in the entrance.

  ‘I’ve made some other decisions too. I’ve spoken to my agent and asked her to investigate TV work, I’ve got an agency looking for suitable candidates to take over the estate management and kick-start an events programme and I’ve asked three architects to submit plans for converting the outbuildings.’

  She did speak then, her voice soft. ‘You’ve been very busy.’

  ‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘I’ve been at a standstill. You were the one who was busy, busy looking into the future. I’ve just taken your ideas and made the next step. But I don’t want to do it alone.’

  She shook her head, tears swimming in her eyes. Tears were good, right? They meant she felt something. Meant she cared.

  He needed to throw everything he had at her. Strip away the diffidence and fear and lay it all out. No matter how much it cost him to do it, the alternative was much worse.

  ‘Daisy, I do need you. Not just physically, although my bed has been so empty the last two nights I couldn’t sleep. But I need you to challenge me, to push me, to make me take my head out of the sand and face the future.’

  ‘You’d have got there on your own, eventually.’

  Would he? He doubted it.

  ‘Seb, I can’t live in fear. I don’t like being in the papers but I accept it may happen. I can’t hide just in case some bored person snaps me. And I can’t not say what I think because you don’t like emotional outbursts. Life isn’t that tidy.’

  ‘I thought it could be,’ he admitted. ‘I didn’t see a middle way between the hysterical ups and downs of my parents’ life and the formality of my grandparents. If it was a choice between sitting at opposite sides of a fifteen-foot table and making polite conversation or throwing plates and screaming then give me cold soup and a hoarse voice any day.’

  ‘Most families aren’t so extreme...’

  ‘No. No, they’re not. And I don’t want either of those for the baby. I want it to grow up like you did, part of a happy, stable family. With two parents who love each other.’

  Her eyes fell but not before he saw the hurt blaze in them. ‘You don’t have to say that. I don’t want you to lie to make me feel better.’

  ‘The only person I’ve been lying to was myself.’ Seb took her chin and tilted it, trying to make her see the sincerity in his eyes.

  ‘Love, it’s complicated. It’s messy and emotional and difficult. I wasn’t ready for it. But then you came sauntering in with your hats and that mouth—’ his eyes dropped to her mouth, lush and full even without its usual coating of slick red ‘—your camera and your absolute belief in love. Your belief in me and in Hawksley and you turned my world upside down. And not just because of the baby.’

  Her eyes blazed blue with hope. ‘Really?’

  ‘I hadn’t been able to stop thinking of you since that first night,’ he told her frankly. It was all or nothing time. ‘I asked the groom who you were the next morning and he sent me a link to your website. I must have clicked onto the contact me button a dozen times. But I was afraid. Nobody had ever got under my skin like that before. And then you came back...’

  She laughed softly. ‘You looked like you’d seen a ghost.’

  Seb smiled back down at her, the warmth creeping back into her voice giving him a jolt of hope. ‘I couldn’t believe my luck. But I was terrified too. Of how you made me feel. How much I wanted you. There was nothing sensible about that. And the more I got to know you, Daisy, the more terrified I was.’

  ‘I’m that scary?’ A light had begun to shine in her eyes, the full mouth quivering.

  ‘You are quite frankly the most terrifying woman I have ever met—and I am including your mother in that. And if you ever begin to believe in yourself, Daisy Huntingdon-Cross, then I don’t think there is anything you won’t achieve. Because—’ he moved in slightly closer, emboldened by the curve of her smile ‘—you are definitely the smartest out of the two of us. It took you leaving for me to acknowledge how I felt about you. But now that I have I want to tell you every day. Every hour of every day. I love you, Daisy, and I really, really hope that you will marry me in two days.’

  With those words the load he had been carrying for so long, the fear, the shame, finally broke free. Whatever her answer he would always be grateful to her for that—even if he had to spend the rest of his life proving the truth of his words to her.

  ‘You love me? You think I’m smart?’ Her voice broke and he dropped her chin to encircle her waist, pulling her in close. He inhaled the soft floral scent of her hair. It was like coming home.

  ‘Ridiculously so.’ Reluctantly he let her go, backing into the half-open door and pushing it open, taking her hand and pulling her inside.

  ‘You’re not the only one to see that the house needs changing, needs making into a home. I can’t begin to match what you’ve achieved but I’m trying to make a start.’

  Daisy stood stock-still, staring at the wall. Gone was the line of stern portraits; no more bewigged gentleman with terrifying eyebrows or stern Victorians with bristling moustaches. Even Seb’s grandfather had been removed to a more fitting place in the long gallery.

  Instead two huge canvas prints hung on the wall, surrounded by smaller black-and-white prints of Hawksley: the castle, the woods, the gardens. Her photos.

  She looked up at the photos, eyes widening as she took in the photo of Seb. It was the one she’d taken of him in Oxford, the light behind him. It felt hubristic having such a large picture of himself on his own wall.

  But it wasn’t just his wall now.

  Flanking him was another black-and-white photo, this time of Daisy—also at work. The trees framed her as she held the camera up to her face, her profile intent, her focus absolute.

  ‘Where...?’ She gaped up at the picture. ‘Where on earth did you get that?’

  ‘I took it.’ Seb tried and failed to keep the pride out of his voice. ‘I had a moment in between those photobooth shots and I turned around—and there you were. Lost in the moment. So I snapped it. I saved it onto my computer, thought you might want it for your website or something.’

  ‘It’s actually pretty good, nice composition.’

  ‘Total and utter fluke,’ he admitted. ‘Daisy—’ he took her hands in his ‘—I want the castle, every room, eve
ry decision we make to be about us. About you, me and the baby. I want to help you turn Hawksley into a family home. Into a house full of love and laughter. I asked you to marry me three weeks ago for all sorts of sensible reasons. I told you marriage was a business. I was a fool.

  ‘I want to marry you because I love you and I hope you love me. Because I actually don’t think I can live without you—and I know I can’t survive without you. So, Daisy.’ Seb let go of her hands and took out the ring. The ring that had miraculously arrived by overnight courier, the ring that Daisy’s sister had somehow known to have ready.

  Slowly, looking up into her face, he lowered himself onto one knee.

  ‘Daisy Huntingdon-Cross. Will you please, please marry me?’

  ‘Get up!’ Daisy pulled him up, snaking her arms around his neck, smiling up at him, her eyes full of joy. ‘Well, the guests are already invited.’

  ‘They are.’

  ‘It would be a shame to waste my mother’s hard work.’

  ‘A real shame.’

  ‘And the chance to see my mother with a penis straw is not one to be passed up.’

  Seb grimaced. ‘I can personally live without that image, my love. But knock yourself out.’

  ‘Say that again.’

  ‘Knock yourself out?’

  ‘No, the name you called me.’

  ‘My love.’ Seb’s heart felt as if it might explode from his chest as he bent his head, ready to capture her mouth with his. ‘My love.’

  EPILOGUE

  ‘READY, DAISY GIRL?’

  Daisy pulled at the waist of her dress with nervous fingers before smiling up at her father.

  ‘Ready, Dad.’

  ‘Well, I’m not.’ Rick Cross’s eyes were suspiciously damp. ‘I don’t think I will ever be ready to walk you down that aisle and hand you over to another man.’

  Violet rolled her eyes. ‘It’s the twenty-first century, Dad. Nobody gets handed over.’

  ‘If anyone is in charge in this house, I’m sorry, I mean in this castle, it’s Daisy. I’ve only been here a few hours and even I can see she’s got that poor earl right under her thumb.’

  Daisy stuck her tongue out at Rose. ‘How I wish I had made you wear frills.’

  Her sisters looked stunning in the simple silk dresses she had chosen. The sweetheart necklines and ruched bodices were white, flaring out into yellow knee-length skirts. Her dress had a similar bodice although instead of bare shoulders, hers were covered with a sheer lace and her floor-length skirt fell straight from the bust in a sweep of white silk to the floor.

  ‘And I wish I had made that ring too large.’ Rose nodded at the band made of twisted yellow gold, white gold petals alternating with small diamonds that adorned Daisy’s left hand.

  Daisy smiled down at the ring. ‘I don’t think you’ve ever made anything more lovely, Rose. I don’t know how you knew to make it but thank you.’

  ‘It goes better with your wedding ring,’ Rose said, but her eyes, so like Daisy’s own, were sparkling with pride. ‘You look beautiful, Daisy.’

  ‘Will Seb recognise you without a hat?’ Violet tucked an errant curl behind Daisy’s ear and tweaked the flowers that held her twist of hair back into place. ‘There, perfect.’

  ‘You picked a good dress.’ Rose was looking her up and down. ‘Your boobs are a little bit bigger but otherwise you don’t look pregnant.’

  ‘I’m not showing yet!’ Daisy still couldn’t mention the pregnancy without blushing. She’d told her mother and sisters during her hen night while Rose Skyped in; they had all been delighted. Especially as she hadn’t needed to lie to them—they weren’t just getting married because of the baby. They were getting married because they belonged together.

  It was as simple and as wonderful as that.

  * * *

  Seb had expected to feel nervous. He was used to standing in front of large crowds, used to speaking in public. But when he taught or lectured he put on a persona. This was him, raw and exposed, in tails and a yellow cravat, ready to pledge his troth to the woman he loved.

  He bit back a wry smile. He was even using her terminology now.

  Sherry sat at the front, resplendent in something very structured and rigid. Seb knew very little about fashion but he was aware she was wearing something very expensive that mere mortals would never be able to carry off.

  The buzz of voices came to a sudden stop as the band struck up one of Rick’s most famous tunes, a song he had composed soon after Daisy’s birth. The familiar chords sounded even more poignant than ever as a violin picked up the vocal lines, soaring up into the beams as one of the twins, Seb had no idea which one, solemnly began to walk down the central aisle followed by the other.

  And then his heart stopped as Daisy appeared. All in white except for her red lipstick and the bouquet of daisies, her eyes shining and a trembling smile on her lips. His fiancée, his bride, the mother of his baby.

  Two months ago he was struggling on alone. Now he had a family, hope, joy. He had a future.

  He smiled as a camera flashed from the back of the hall. Let them take photos, let them publish them everywhere and anywhere. He was the luckiest man alive and he was happy for the whole world to know.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from BEST MAN FOR THE BRIDESMAID by Jennifer Faye.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  ALWAYS A BRIDESMAID...

  Jules Lane lifted her chin and smiled broadly.

  Her steps grew quicker as she made her way past the other departing passengers. At last she was in Rome. Rome, Italy, to be exact. She continued to grin and resisted the urge to pinch herself just to make sure this wasn’t a dream.

  On the other hand, this wasn’t exactly a vacation. She was here for an important job—to help plan her foster sister’s wedding. This wouldn’t be Jules’s first time down the aisle. She’d been a bridesmaid more times than she could count on one hand.

  However, this time around she had the privilege of being the maid of honor. It was a role she eagerly anticipated. She liked to take charge—to provide order to chaos. She wasn’t a closet romantic. She didn’t dream about finding Prince Charming. She didn’t fantasize about her “big day.” But she did have a thing for pretty dresses and cake—cake was definitely her weakness.

  Actually now that she thought about it, Lizzie, her foster sister, hadn’t been into romance, either...at least not until she’d flown here three months ago for a television show—a reality segment about cooking. Cupid sure seemed to have hit the mark with Lizzie and Dante.

  For most of Jules’s life, Lizzie had been the keeper of her secrets, her protector and her only family. Jules loved her with all her heart. But that security came with a steep price tag for both of them—learning at an early age that they only had each other to lean on.

  Now it was time for a change—if only Jules could find a way to tell Lizzie her news.

  Jules sighed as she made her way through the Leonardo da Vinci terminal. She’d find the right time. She just had to have patience.

  The strap of her carry-on dug int
o her shoulder, and she struggled to adjust it. The black-and-white cloth bag was weighted down with a wedding planner, a big bag of sour candies and plenty of bridal magazines with dog-eared pages and sticky notes. She had everything necessary to plan the perfect wedding—except for one very important but necessary ingredient: caffeine. But no worries—Lizzie had been raving about the delicious coffee Rome had to offer.

  Considering no details about the wedding had been tacked down, there would be long conversations over this now-infamous coffee. First, they had to nail down a wedding date. Jules was thinking a spring wedding next year. It’d be perfect as Lizzie had mentioned something about an Italian vineyard as the backdrop. Talk about some amazing photos.

  This wedding-planning stuff shouldn’t be too hard. After all, Jules had most of it memorized by this point. Now she’d be able to put all of that knowledge to good use.

  Boisterous voices filled the terminal as friends greeted each other. An American family called frantically for their son, who stood ten steps away checking out the cell phones that a beautiful woman with long dark hair and a brilliant smile was eager to show the teenager. Jules took it all in as she strode through the congested concourse, following the signs to the baggage claim.

  She couldn’t wait to see Lizzie. It felt like an eternity since they’d seen each other. And she was looking forward to meeting her future brother-in-law, Dante. Lizzie swore the photos she’d emailed didn’t do him justice. That was hard to believe since Jules had found him quite handsome.

  She walked over to the luggage carousel, hoping her suitcase had made the journey and hadn’t been lost along the way. All the while, she kept glancing around for Lizzie. Where could she be? It wasn’t like her to be late.

  Jules’s gaze strayed across to a tall dark-haired man at the other end of the luggage return area. He spoke to a pretty young woman, who shook her head and turned away. And then he moved on to the next young woman. What was that all about?