Clem shrugged. “For all intents and purposes, I guess they were completely interchangeable with a wedding. I mean a reception is a reception is a reception, right? Throw in a father-daughter dance, a garter toss, and a few heartfelt toasts and you’ve got yourself a wedding reception instead of a bunch of stuffy barristers blathering on about flawed justice and retirement accounts.”
“Well, then you simply must help me with my wedding plans!” Elisabetta said, clapping her hands at the kismet of it all.
And with that, things got even more interesting.
Chapter Seventeen
Clementine’s head whipped around toward Elisabetta—Liz—whatever her name was. And Pierre/Peter.
“What?” Sebastian said, his voice an octave too high.
“Huh?” Clem added, a bit stunned.
“Why it makes perfect sense,” his mother said. “We have a wedding to plan. She is an event planner without an event to plan. What a perfectly chance meeting of the minds.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not at all qualified to plan a royal wedding!”
“I think it’s a marvelous idea,” Lady Charlotte said. “It’s right up your alley.”
“Mother, I don’t have an alley.”
“I know something that’s right up your alley,” Sebastian whispered to her out of earshot of the rest of the group.
Clem kicked him under the table.
Her mother waved her hand dismissively and took a sip of her wine. “You know what I mean.”
“Oh I think this will be great fun,” Elisabetta said. “Last time I had absolutely no input for my wedding. My mother was just happy no one knew I was preggers, and she called the shots on the entire event.”
Clementine’s eyes bugged open. Sweet innocent Princess Elisabetta had herself in the family way?
There had been times when she certainly thought Sebastian was a real bastard, but she didn’t know he was a real bastard. Now it all made perfect sense.
“Mum, perhaps you should think about a quickie Vegas wedding instead. You know, get in, get out. That sort of thing,” Sebastian said with a tinge of wishful thinking in his voice.
“I’m not looking for tawdry. I want this to be elegant, yet understated. After all, it’s the last wedding I’m going to have,” she said, batting her lashes at her ex-husband-slash-fiancé. “And only the most important people in our lives will be in attendance.”
No doubt Sebastian wondered if that meant he and his brother and sister were off the hook.
“In fact, Bass, your father has something to ask you.”
Sebastian looked toward his father who was hemming and hawing.
“Well, er, yes, son,” he said, clearing his throat. “It seems the first time around we rather blew it with things. Made quite a mess of it all. We were hoping as, well, sort of emblematic of making things right, that you’d agree to be my best man.”
Sebastian squinted. “But we don’t even have best men at weddings in our country.”
“You’ve got a point,” his father said with a nod. “But as a symbolic gesture, we could do that. And you could be him.”
Clementine just wanted to squirm right on out of her seat and get away from this awkward—or potentially touching, she couldn’t decide—scene unfolding. And a tiny part of her wanted to scooch right onto Sebastian’s nearby lap and pick up where they left off, pressing herself right there where it would make all the pain go away. Or at least amp up the pleasure, which would make her more than a little bit happy.
“Maybe you can think about it, Bass?” his mother said imploringly, her brows knit together.
Mercifully, Rosa chose that minute to deliver the secondi, a pan-roasted duck breast over polenta with brandied cherries in a Chianti sauce. Never had Clementine felt such a kinship with her meal as she did with that duck, focused as she was on slicing each piece and carefully chewing long enough to preclude the ability to conduct conversation. It seemed she wasn’t the only one opting out of chitchat; a surreptitious glance at Sebastian revealed him locking his eyes on his dinner plate, deep in concentration.
Finally, his mother spoke.
“So that’s that, then,” she said, rubbing her hands. “Clementine is our official wedding planner, and Sebastian is our best man. This will be so much fun!”
“But, your Highness—”
“None of this formality, darling,” Elisabetta said. “I won’t take no for an answer. And from here on out, I’m Liz to you.”
“—But I have no royal credentials. I have no business planning a wedding for the sister of the queen!”
“You’re of noble stock—your father was a lord of the manor. You are as qualified as you need to be. Besides, this is not a royal wedding, this is a family affair.”
Sebastian blanched, and Clementine could only focus on the word affair.
“Clementine, love, this will be the best thing for you to get on with your life,” her mother said with a gentle voice as she reached her hand across the table to Clementine’s. “Your father would be so proud of you, and he would want you not to dwell on having lost him.”
Clementine sat in silence, stewing in her annoyance at being railroaded into this gig. Though the more she thought about it, the more she thought maybe it could be quite fun planning a wedding. Especially with those two nutters sitting across from her who clearly had no plans of doing things with convention in mind. And an unlimited budget. Maybe it would give her a chance to have free rein and do whatever rang her bell.
She took a bite of duck and chewed slowly.
“Well...I suppose if your son has agreed to be your best man, it wouldn’t be very sporting of me to turn down being your wedding planner, then, would it?”
Sebastian shot daggers at her. Clementine pushed away from the table.
“Can I clear that for you?” she said, reaching for Elisabetta’s plate, her cue to her mother that she wanted to escape from this little fête.
Chapter Eighteen
Sebastian didn’t know what hit him. First he had his crazy parents ricocheting their affections around like a tennis ball on Centre Court at Wimbledon. And yanking everyone else along with them, as if their history didn’t reflect the rancor that defined it. And then there was Clementine.
God, of all the people to show up tonight, it had to be her, looking so smoking hawt, with that long blonde hair that he could only think about when she tried to drape it across her exposed breasts—as if that bare coverage would have made a difference at the time. But here she was dressed in black leggings and a slouchy sweater and she still looked as sexy as she did with most of her bikini missing.
And then she started talking about rum. Rum, of all the damned things. As if he could do anything but flash back to his tongue slowly dragging its way across her luscious body. The only consolation was he had a napkin spread across his lap, because his khakis were fighting a losing battle trying to contain the hard-on that was determined to be serviced after being privy to that conversation.
Christ, he’d lost count of how many nights he’d fallen asleep with visions of Clementine spread out carefree on the bar, happy to let him play to his heart’s content. God, he felt his heart racing just remembering it.
And here they were with this crazy side conversation going on while his parents were yammering on about their unrequited love. The whole thing felt surreal.
He still couldn’t figure out why Clementine had gone from so hot to so cold with him. But it could only remind him of the very lack of climate control that defined his own parents’ relationship, so all he wanted to do was keep a cool distance. He couldn’t deal with a chick who changed courses so quickly. At least he thought he couldn’t deal with it. Until he saw Clementine and all he could think about was how much he wanted to be with her, in her, all over again.
And then she just walked away from the table, expecting that to be the end of their discussion?
Sebastian cleared his throat and stood up, grabbing a serving platter and an emp
ty bottle of wine and heading off in the direction of the kitchen. Where he fully expected to find Clementine but instead found Rosa all alone.
He looked at her and she just tipped her head toward the door that led from the house in the direction of the barn. He nodded his thanks and followed her outside.
She was a few hundred feet in front of him.
He whistled to her, but she ignored it and kept on walking.
“Hey!” he shouted and picked up the pace to catch up with her. Soon, he was running, hoping he wasn’t going to trip on something in the dark. He rubbed his hands on his arms against the chill of the night. An owl hooted in the distance. He felt out of his element here: no longer barefoot in a swimsuit with a beer in his hands.
As he ran, he could see the trail of steam from her breath ahead and he followed it, his body warming as he moved faster. Finally, he got up just behind her and reached his arm to her shoulder.
“Hey,” he said, trying to turn her around, but she resisted.
“I came out here to be alone for a reason,” she said.
“I whistled for you,” he said. “Why didn’t you answer?”
“I’m not a dog, that’s why.”
Wow, she was gonna make this tough. He caught up and they were now walking side by side.
“Look, Clementine, I’m not sure why we can’t be friends,” he said. “For that matter, I’m not quite sure why we can’t be even more than friends.” He smiled at the suggestion.
“Oh, I’m pretty sure you know why,” she said. “You made it perfectly clear that what we had—what we did—was not going to go anywhere, so I’m just honoring your wishes.”
“Yeah, sure, I wasn’t looking at having a house and a dog and three point five children anytime soon with you,” he said. “But I thought we had a good time together. Why couldn’t we keep that going?”
“Because that wasn’t me,” she said. “I’m not that girl who does outrageous and honestly pretty scandalous things like that. It was impulsive and idiotic and—”
“Incredible and impossibly sexy,” he said. “And so fucking hot.”
She paused for a minute. “It was hot, wasn’t it?”
Sebastian grabbed her hand and laced his fingers in them. “And what’s stopping us from a command performance, then?”
He turned to face her and reached his hand up to brush her hair from her eyes. He wanted nothing more than to run his fingers through that hair, trailing them down her body as he relearned every inch of it.
Clementine shook her head. But he leaned in and ever so gently placed his lips on hers, only hoping he didn’t find himself on the receiving end of a knee to the crotch—a very real possibility, it seemed, with the mercurial Lady Weltenham, Clementine Squires-Thornton in control.
Chapter Nineteen
Clementine wasn’t sure if she wanted Sebastian to follow her or not. Although those rebellious hormones of hers were probably leaving a trail of pheromones powerful enough for him to find her in a cave in the mountains of Afghanistan, so why would she even wonder about this? Her common sense told her to steer clear. What happened in the BVI was a one-off; it was so not how Clem operated. She really just needed to move on and stop thinking about Sebastian. And his darned award-winning tongue.
But then he caught up with her, and she felt his fingers tangle with hers, his hand warm against her palm, and here they were, facing each other.
Clementine could never recall her breathing becoming heavy and labored over a guy before. Only a long run could do that to her. It had been hours since she’d been out on her daily jog, yet here she was breathing hard and feeling lightheaded, as if she’d sprinted five miles. Now, she wanted nothing more than to succumb to her desire and become even more out of breath.
So when Sebastian placed a kiss on her lips, what could she do but reciprocate? The kiss may have started as a tentative gesture, but it didn’t take long for it to become heated. His tongue probed her mouth in search of her own, and his hands skated along her body, warming her inside and out; they roamed her torso, finally finding their way beneath her loose sweater.
Clementine let out a moan when his hands slipped beneath one side of her bra and his fingers started playing with her already hardened nipple. She could barely let his mouth go when he started to trail down her chin and throat and navigated right toward that exposed breast.
“God, Clem, I missed this so much,” Sebastian said right before his mouth settled over that desperate nipple. Clementine’s hands scoured through his hair, encouraging him onward. Soon he pulled her downward until they were both stretched out on the grass, surrounded by nothing but a blanket of brilliant stars and the far-off lowing of a herd of cows who were settling in for the night.
Sebastian picked up where he left off, this time with her other breast, and Clementine reached down to pull his shirt up so she could get her hands on his chest. For a few minutes, they rolled around in the grass, keeping themselves warm as they got “reacquainted.” Clementine unfastened Sebastian’s belt and made quick work of the button of his pants, then slid her hands down to discover nothing between him and his khakis.
“Wow,” she said. “Commando. A bold move with the chill in the air.”
He shrugged. “Not something I need much where I live.”
Which only reminded her about where he lived and what she did when she was there with him. She wrapped her hand around him and savored the velvety softness of his hard length. He thrust his hips toward her, encouraging her on as his own hands slipped beneath her leggings and eased between her legs, sliding under her panties to stroke her already slick center. It was Clem’s turn to pump her hips, willing the rest of him to find his way right there and thrust right on in.
Clementine’s phone rang, and for a second, they both froze in place.
“I need to answer that,” she said as she pulled down her top, as if whoever was calling could see the state she was in.
“Clementine?”
It was her Uncle Alastair.
“It’s Winnie,” he said. “I had the vet come by because I was concerned with how she was acting and he confirmed what I suspect: she’s got colic. Doctor’s given her pain medicine and he’s allowed her to lie down. She seems to be settling in, but I just wanted to let you know you were right when you thought something was off with her today, and I’m hoping we caught it early.”
Clementine frowned. “I feel awful. I just left her and ran back to the house.”
“Remember, I told you that you left her in good hands, right? I think she’ll be fine.”
“I was on my way back to the barn anyhow, so I’ll be there shortly. That way you can get some sleep and I’ll stay up with her.”
“You don’t have to, Clementine,” he said. “I’m perfectly fine watching over her.”
“Uncle Alastair, I simply can’t lose another thing I love right now.”
She hung up from the call, straightened her clothes, and got up, dusting off the stray grass and straw from the field.
“I’m sorry, but it’s my horse,” she said. “You can go back, but I need to go stay with her.”
“Is she okay?”
Clem wasn’t sure if she had the right answer to that. “I hope so. But she’s my girl, so I need to be there for her.”
“Seems to me then you’ll need someone to be there for you.”
Sebastian reached his hand up to Clem and she helped to pull him to standing.
“Sorry, but this is probably for the best anyhow.”
“Let’s not worry about what’s best right now,” he said. “Let’s just go take care of your horse.”
Chapter Twenty
Sebastian called his mother and explained that he would be spending the night in the barn with Clementine tending to her sick horse. She, of course, was concerned that they were missing dessert, but he assured her they were fine and he’d find his way home in the morning.
After meeting up with Alastair and finally persuading him it was all r
ight for him to leave and get some sleep, Clementine and Sebastian got themselves situated to hold vigil near Winnie throughout the night. Luckily, the barn was far more beautifully appointed than most people’s homes, heated even, although that was a generous term, as it wasn’t truly very warm at all. They’d both thrown on coveralls to fend off the chill in the air.
Sebastian had abandoned hopes that their little field party would recommence in the barn, at least in the way he’d fantasized it. He readily realized there wasn’t much chance of a booty call when decked out in head-to-toe Cargill coveralls.
Clementine slipped into the kitchen on the second floor and returned with two mugs of hot chocolate so they could settle in for the long haul.
When she returned, she motioned Sebastian into a room across from where Winnie seemed to be resting comfortably; that way they could keep an eye on her while on the plush leather couch. She sat down and patted the seat next to her for him to join her.
They sat in silence for a time, but for the occasional snuffling sound of one of the horses. It was a bit odd, after having been caught up in a hormonal frenzy out in the field, they were now cloaked in buttoned-up coveralls, searching for even trite conversation. Perhaps actions did speak louder than words, because half an hour earlier, neither one of them had any trouble communicating whatsoever.
“So you? Working for a barrister, then?” Sebastian finally said.
Clem nodded. “I’m afraid so. Finished university and wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, so I defaulted to that job. Not exactly a career path for the likes of me.”
“I could ask why not since I would have pegged you for something a little more adventuresome, but then again, perhaps I’ve only scratched the surface of Clementine,” he said as he took a sip of his cocoa. “Which begs the question, who are you, anyway?”
She laughed quietly. “I’ve been asking myself that for years. The only thing is, I never seem to come up with an answer. I’m me. I grew up with two loving parents in a beautiful home with two brothers I consider to be my friends. I loved growing up in Monaforte, which I consider idyllic. I adore my horse and my dogs and my cats, and I have wonderful friends I can count on when I need them.”
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