The Accidental Bride (10 page)

‘Nighty-night, then.’

‘Goodnight, Lizzie.’

Not quite closing her eyes, she watched him covertly from beneath her eyelashes, wondering if he’d be able to detect that he was being observed with his unnerving, sometimes downright spooky perception.

But this time, it seemed not. His chest lifted as he drew in a deep breath, almost like a diver preparing to submerge, and then settled back down again. His eyes were closed, and his beautiful and ridiculously dark eyelashes cast shadows on his cheekbones. In repose, his sculpted mouth was a thing of beauty.

Looks like I’m the one who isn’t going to be able to sleep.
It’s like putting a great work of art in the bed next to me, and expecting me not to slavishly admire it.

For a while she just lay there, watching him. He was really trying, but she knew he wasn’t sleeping.

‘No, I’m not asleep yet,’ he said suddenly, eyes still closed, but grinning.

‘Didn’t think you were, somehow.’

‘Don’t worry, love. Forget about me. Just relax.’ A hand slid across, caught hers and gave it a squeeze. Then, he began to stroke it, slowly, hypnotically, just in the way he might have stroked Alice the cat if she hadn’t been out in the grounds somewhere, ranging about, pursuing various furry prey.

The slow rhythm of his fingers was so delicious, as wonderful in its own way as when he stroked her when they were making love. Lizzie’s eyelids fluttered, suddenly heavy as lead, and she wondered if he was actually hypnotising her. Perhaps using techniques he’d learnt himself during his therapy, when he’d pursued a ‘normal’ sleep with the help of a psychotherapist.

Well, it mightn’t have worked for you, gorgeous man, but I’ve a feeling it’s going to work for me …

Lizzie’s eyes snapped open again. Déjà vu.

Yes, she’d been asleep. John’s gentle stroking of her hand had seen to that. But what about him? His hand had slid from hers, so no more stroking. Did that mean the miracle had occurred and he’d fallen asleep too? She was desperate to know, but she didn’t dare move.

He had slept with her before. Once, at St Patrick’s Road, that time after Brent’s suicide attempt. John had definitely nodded off in her bed then, but they’d both been
exhausted from a long, eventful night that had run through a complicated spectrum of kinky pleasure at a fetish party right to the pits of desperate fear and anxiety, worrying about Brent.

But now things were different. There were still areas of anxiety – for both of them, she suspected. Nothing quite so acute, though, just their ‘couple’ stuff.

Turning her head on the pillow, millimetre by millimetre, she stole a glance at him, straining to see him out of the corner of her eye.

Bloody hell, you are asleep, aren’t you?

Lizzie knew from their role-playing games that John was a brilliant actor, but something about the relaxed and gentle quality of his facial expression was different. Impossible to fake. He looked even more like a worldly-wise angel than ever, all tension drained away in repose.

Lizzie hardly dared breathe. Even though she wanted to smother his face in kisses, and put her hands on him. It wasn’t a sexual thing, just an expression of her wonder and amazement at being with her perfect man.

I love you; you know that, don’t you? Even if it’s not for ever for us, it’s for ever for me. There’ll never be anybody else.

John might have been freed from tension by sleep, but she was far from it. She had to keep still. She mustn’t do anything to disturb her slumbering prince.

A sobering thought struck her. Would it always have to be like this? Lizzie, on tenterhooks in bed, for fear of waking him up and fracturing his fragile ability to sleep.

Bloody hell …

‘You can move, you know. And I’d recommend breathing from time to time too.’

‘Oh, you beast! You’re not asleep! I thought we’d nailed
it, but you’re faking it, after all!’

John’s eyes flew open and he rolled onto his side, facing her. Reaching out, he cradled her cheek and stroked it with his thumb.

‘Au contraire, sweetheart, I have been asleep. Maybe an hour or two. I checked the clock.’ He leant over and kissed her lips gently. ‘So, we’ve definitely made progress.’

‘But you woke up again.’ She reached for his hand, and wove her fingers with his.

‘Yes … I hate to say this, but I think I subconsciously detected your tension.’

‘Oh, so it’s my fault?’ she said, keeping her voice light. Was he blaming her? Gently, tactfully, but still, it sounded that way. He was a man, after all, and even the most adorable ones, like him, had a bred-in-the-bone tendency to believe they could never be in the wrong. ‘Bollocks, I should have had some gin, shouldn’t I? And then I might have been dead to the world.’

He squeezed her fingers again, and quirked his eyebrows at her in the dim light that filtered through the voile curtains from a high moon. ‘I never said it was your fault, Lizzie love. I never would … It’s my issue. My thing. My fault.’ He paused, and gave her a long, almost wistful look. ‘We’ll get there, darling. It’ll happen. I know it will. And even when I’m not fully asleep, it’s still restful lying here next to you.’

‘I hope so. I was trying my best not to move about or … um … remind you of anything, you know?’

John gave a soft laugh. ‘Don’t worry, love, you don’t remind me in the least of Jack! There’s no way I could ever mistake you for him.’

‘I should hope not!’

They lay for a few moments in silence. Could they recapture what they’d had? Both of them asleep at once? Lizzie had an ominous feeling that might be it for tonight. They’d had an oddly prickly little moment there and she felt unsettled. John seemed relaxed, but his eyes were open and he was looking up at the ceiling. Or whatever he was seeing with his mind’s eye.

‘What are you thinking about?’

Gah, why had she asked that? Why couldn’t she leave him in peace, or at least not ask needy girlfriend questions?

He didn’t turn her way, but he took her hand and laid it across his midriff, resting his over it companionably.

‘About someone else I once tried to sleep with.’

Yikes, now she’d done it. Who was that person? Some flame of his that’d come after his prison sentence, obviously.

Oh God, was it Clara? When they’d had their brief reunion?

‘And before you jump to any conclusions, it wasn’t Clara.’ He gave her a little sideways smile in the darkness, and she’d never been more glad to see it. ‘During the time we got back together, she thought my little problem was quaint and rather tedious. She always did like to do the “sleeping in each other’s arms” thing, whether the partner concerned was comfortable or not. Probably just another reason why she fucked off and left me.’

Was there bitterness in his voice? If there was, it was well hidden. Lizzie felt again the urge to smash in the face of this insufferable cow who’d hurt and betrayed her man!

‘So who was it?’ Probably somebody else to be jealous of, but anything was preferable to thoughts of the ‘C’ word again.

‘It was Benjamin.’

‘You what?’

A man? After the prison experience?

‘Yes, my dear old crush from school, bless his heart.’ There was fondness in his voice, but this time, Lizzie couldn’t resent it. She knew Benjamin had been good to John, back when they’d enjoyed their passionate fling, and she had a feeling it might have been the same later.

‘But I thought … after prison and Jack and all that, well … that you might not have been into men any more.’ After the trauma, it only seemed logical.

John brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. ‘At the time, I thought that too. But I was glad of Ben as a friend back then. He’d heard about my various falls from grace … prison, my glorious army career, the big bust-up with my father … and he reached out to me. He knew the score with Clara, and because he was a decent guy, who still cared for me in his own way, he made a kind gesture.’

‘He sounds nice.’

‘He was nice. He still is.’

‘But … how did it get to sex?’ Sensitive as it was, she suddenly had to know.

‘We talked a lot. He knew I needed it and he was a good listener. Because we’d been lovers, I was able to tell him about Jack … and my confused feelings.’ His voice sounded haunted. He was reliving those feelings. Lizzie returned his gesture, bringing his fingers to her lips, now, for a reassuring kiss.

‘We talked long into the night, on the gin, and I admitted that I wasn’t sure whether I’d ever want to have sex again … with a man or a woman. Because we were both tipsy, Ben offered his services, as therapy, and I accepted.’

Lizzie said nothing, not wanting to fracture the delicate
moment, or balk John in his narrative. She hardly dared breathe again, but she let it out in a gasp when she saw that John was smiling.

‘And it was good. Really good,’ he went on, voice warm as if reliving the sense of relief he must have felt. ‘Ben was gentle when I needed him to be, and, well, enthusiastic when I needed that. We were only together for a shortish while. We messed around, played a bit, even fucked a few times … One day we even did a bit of BDSM, more for a laugh than anything. I’d never really thought much about it before then, but that was when I discovered I had a taste for it … and Ben liked it too.’

‘Good for Ben! He’s done me a service. All my little forays into that area were sadly disappointing until you put me right!’

John laughed, and nibbled her fingertips. ‘Yes indeed. That all worked out very nicely, didn’t it?’

‘Absolutely. But what happened to you and Ben? If you were getting on well? Apart from not being able to sleep together, that is? I guess he was sympathetic?’

‘He was. He never tried to force the issue. He said I shouldn’t worry, that things would right themselves eventually.’ John smiled at her, and Lizzie’s heart sang. They would right themselves. She knew they would. They were already partway there. ‘But … I sensed there was something else going on with him, and he admitted there was someone else he was drawn to, where he’d been working. A woman. He hadn’t asked her out or anything yet. Hadn’t even intimated he was interested. But he did like her, and he wanted to be honest with me, first, before he made a move.’

Lizzie bit her lip. It was so bittersweet. John and Ben sounded as if they’d been a wonderful couple, but if they’d
stayed together, there might never have been a ‘John and Lizzie’. ‘Were you upset?’

‘No. I was happy for him. I knew what we had was only temporary, just a moment in time, even if it was great. I was glad he’d found someone he might have a future with, and, as luck would have it, it wasn’t long after then that I met Caroline again.’ There was an odd note in his voice, perhaps a lingering wistfulness, a curiosity, him wondering what a quite different life might have been like. ‘And I’ve always known that, at base, I’m heterosexual more than bisexual. Ben and I both were, and I valued him as a friend most of all.’

‘Sounds like he was certainly that. Do you know what happened, with the woman he met at work?’

John beamed. ‘Yes, I do. They ended up getting married, and they’re still married. Blissfully so. Nobody deserves a “happily ever after” more than Ben. I was best man at his wedding. He’d told her about me, but she’s a broadminded lass and it wasn’t … isn’t … a big deal to her.’

Happily ever after … will we have that? Will we ever get as far as marriage, or has John sworn off it now?

She hardly dared contemplate that can of worms. In fact, those cans …

John’s eyes narrowed a little, as if he’d read her thought. He drew her close and gave her a hug. ‘And now I’ve got my own broadminded lass too. Everyone’s a winner. Ben and Jessica live in Scotland, but one of these days, you and I will have to visit them. They have a pretty place, by a loch. I think you’d like it, and they’ll love you!’

‘If you say so.’

‘I know so.’

He wanted her to meet people in his world. In the cooler
light of day, she could rationalise this. She was just as good as anybody. She could hold her own. But in the dead of night, doubts circled.

‘Lizzie, don’t worry. I want to show you off to people. You’re my jewel, my star. I want to bask in their envy when they see me with you.’ He kissed her brow, her temple, her hair. ‘And anybody who doesn’t adore you, or “get” you, just isn’t worth my time of day.’

It blew her away when he said things like that, but still, her nerves frazzled over it.

‘I don’t know …’

‘Look, let’s not think about that now. I’ve got something that’ll take your mind off any anxieties about future socialising.’

Holding her tight, he rolled his hips against her.

Again? Oh, you insatiable devil!

John laughed again. ‘Yeah, I know it’s a bit of an imposition to expect you to accommodate my horny excesses in the small hours of the morning, but if we go at it spoon style, you don’t have to do any work. It’ll just be me, in your exquisite pussy, while I play with your clit and make you come.’

‘Tempting.’

Who was she kidding?

‘But not irresistible, then?’ Grabbing her, he rolled onto his back, so she was half lying across his erection. Hot as a brand through his pyjamas, it almost had a life of its own, lifting and pushing against her. As he held her with his hands at the small of her back, she writhed against him, making him groan.

‘Actually … yes,’ she gasped, twisting her wrist to slide her hand between them, and grip him. ‘It is irresistible.
You’re not the only one that’s subject to horny excess, you know.’

‘Ah ha! I knew you’d succumb,’ he cried, gripping her by the waist, using the power in his strong wrists and forearms to work her against him. ‘So, what’s it to be, horny miss? On top? Underneath? Or spoons? Or maybe some devious new variation from your fertile mind?’

‘Oh, spoons, I think … I really fancy spoons.’ Slithering off him, she turned away, and massaged her bottom against the long, muscular line of his thigh. Her pyjama bottom bunched as she moved to and fro, slipping down.

‘Minx! You know how I love the crease of your bottom … I’m almost tempted to …’

‘Think again, buster,’ said Lizzie quickly, but half laughing also. ‘Much as I enjoy that, it’s not on the menu without at least a little prior warning.’