The Accidental Bride (21 page)

Yes
, said her body, and her heart, speaking to his.

‘We shouldn’t,’ she gasped, without the slightest bit of sincerity.

‘Oh yes, we should,’ he replied, kissing again, hard. ‘Or at least I should.’ His blue eyes were bright and sly as he parted their mouths and he looked at her. ‘You don’t have to do anything, my goddess; I’m the one who owes you. So I’ll do the giving.’

‘But the party …’ she began, a token protest.

‘There’s nothing to worry about. The party is perfect and you’re perfect. And you need something to take your mind off my stupid torrid past and the idiotic things I’ve done. I need to do something to relax you.’

Devil! He didn’t have to say what. The way he looked her up and down, his gaze gravitating suggestively towards her loins as he flicked out his rosy tongue, said it all.

‘Oh, no you don’t. Don’t go there, John. There’s no time. I’ll be all flustered.’

What a little liar she was. She didn’t care now if his entire family were heading up the drive in a fleet of limousines, Marquess of Welbeck included.

She made a just-for-show attempt to pull away, but his hand was firm around hers, and she couldn’t help but laugh. That smile, that wicked tongue of his, they were all he needed to prime her engine and start a process with only one resolution.

‘You’ll look even more beautiful if you’re flustered.’ He lunged forward and gave her a ferocious kiss, owning her, goading her, exacerbating her madness.

I should resist. This is bonkers. How long have we got? Fifteen … twenty minutes?

But the motor was running now, and that madness was let slip like the dogs of crazy lust. She could no sooner turn back now, than stop breathing. What the hell …? Shelley’s face had been awfully pink when she and Sholto had emerged from the cabana.

If Shell can steal a quickie, so can I!

‘It’s all right. I won’t mess you up or do anything to spoil your pretty clothes,’ murmured John, sliding his hand down over her breast and squeezing her through the colourful cotton of her dress, and the light summer basque she wore beneath it.

‘You’d better not,’ she growled, remembering a time when he’d made a similar promise, in his room, at the Waverley. And he hadn’t either, apart from the necessity of buying herself a new pair of knickers from the hotel boutique.

I love you, whatever you’ve done, you evil sex-monster!

Yes, an evil sex-monster who looked like a gilded angel from the hosts on high; although angels didn’t usually lick
their plush, sensual lips in such a downright provocative and lewdly suggestive way.

He kissed her again, letting his lips travel from her mouth, to a tender spot beneath her ear, then down to her throat. Dipping down, he kissed her collar-bone, then as deeply into her cleavage as he could get, tongue stroking and teasing.

‘What are you doing, you beast?’ she demanded as he kissed his way down her inner arm, even though she had a shrewd suspicion. His mouth moved from the crook of her elbow to her wrist, and then, in a sudden flourish, he sank to his knees in front of where she sat, and grabbed her right ankle and kissed that too, then her calf, and then … ooh, the inside of her knee, pushing the full froth of her petticoats out of the way as he went.

Oh dear God … Yes!

‘John, you mustn’t!’ she cried, knowing he’d translate it quite correctly as, Y
es, yes, yes, John, you must!

‘Yes, indeed I must,’ he said, as if he had one of those universal gadgets from
Star Trek
. ‘Now, let’s get your knickers off so I can get my face between those fabulous thighs of yours, and lick your cunt until you completely forget every terrible thing I’ve ever told you about myself.’ His eyes flashed, sapphire, sky, ocean. ‘Come on, woman, hurry up! Let me at you!’

‘You’re outrageous!’ She tugged at his hair, more play than threat, teasing a beautiful golden curl between the tips of her fingers. But setting him free, she reached down and snuck her fingers into the elastic of her knickers and started to tweak at them.

John completed the task, slithering them down her thighs, over her knees and off over her ankles, without even hooking them on her shoes. Oh, he was so clever!

He didn’t speak, but his eyes and his smile were a litany of seduction and wickedness. Without hesitating, he plunged in, plying his way through her bush, then parting her labia.

‘Mmm … your most precious jewel,’ he murmured, blowing on her clit, ‘a pearl beyond price. More lustrous even than those rocks in your ears.’ He looked up and winked, nodding at her diamond earrings.

‘Oh, don’t talk bollocks, John, just get on with it! We haven’t much time.’

He laughed out loud. ‘Such a lady.’

A thought passed through her mind: maybe … one day? Then his mouth met her pussy and thoughts didn’t stand a chance.

He went in wildly. Licking. Sucking. Playing and toying and teasing and taunting with his tongue. Long, drawn-out finesse was notably absent for the moment. His goal was to get her off and do it quickly.

But John was still an artist. Still divine. Float like a butterfly; sting with pleasure – like Lucifer incarnate. Within moments, Lizzie was hissing obscenities at him through clenched teeth, coming like a train, just as she’d described to him in her text, the other day. Keeping quiet was the devil’s own struggle, but if she didn’t at least try, she’d end up letting out a scream that would be heard the length and breadth of the garden outside … and around the poolside. Pulling hard on John’s golden hair, she punished him for his greed, for his provocative mouth and for being irresistible and untameable, despite everything. Every goddamn thing.

But when he looked up at her, his eyes were the jewels beyond price, brighter than her diamonds with happy, playful triumph. She grabbed him by the ear and tweaked it.

‘You wicked, fucking devil,’ she said, unable to keep the love out of her low, shaking voice. ‘I expect you want me to service you now.’ She glanced downwards. He was huge in his trousers.

‘Actually no,’ said John, springing up as if he were totally unaware of his erection. ‘I only wanted to remind you that I care for you now, love, and to let you know that the past is just the past, no matter how torrid.’ He gave her a slow smile, and shrugged. ‘And it is my punishment for crimes past and present to go without. As you so rightly point out, sweetheart, we don’t have much time, and I’m sure you want to nip away to the bathroom and “freshen up” now, as they say.’

‘I certainly do,’ she replied as he drew her to her feet. ‘I could do with a shower, but there’s no time. Your ex-wife, and your ex-girlfriend’s mother, will be here any moment!’

‘Why not put your swimsuit on and dive into the pool instead? That’d freshen you up.’ He kissed her cheek, with a kind of salacious chasteness that made her want his mouth on her pussy again, and a lot more besides.

‘No, I’m not greeting Caroline in a bathing costume. She’ll be judging me enough without me having flesh on show.’ She tried to pull away from him, to stalk off towards her bathroom, but he held on tight.

‘Ah, but your flesh is lovely, beautiful girl. Just the right amount, all in the most perfect of proportions.’ Though his eyes still twinkled, he looked more serious. ‘Caroline won’t be judging you, Lizzie. She’s not like that. She’s a good woman. One of the nicest people I know. And you and she will get on like a house on fire. Because you’re basically the same. Intelligent, level-headed and warm-hearted.’

Not like her daughter …

Lizzie shuddered. John frowned as he let her go, and she knew he’d felt it.

‘Now, don’t worry, go and do what you have to do.’ He gently urged her with a pat on the backside. ‘And I’ll do what I have to do.’

Lizzie arched her brows at him.

‘Yes, that,’ said John, arching his own brows back at her. ‘I will if I have to. But it’ll probably go down of its own accord, with a bit of the old biofeedback. Now, hustle, gorgeous! We don’t have much time.’

‘Whose fault is that?’ called Lizzie as she paused at the door, then scooted along the corridor towards the staircase. It was her fault as much as his, really. If she’d really and truly wanted to stop, John would have done so. He’d only given her what she wanted and needed; pleasure as a panacea, a reassurance.

Ten minutes later, as spruce as she could make herself and in a fresh pair of knickers, Lizzie dashed through the house, heading for the front door. A glance out of the window had revealed a beautiful blue vintage Rolls-Royce already drawing up, and John standing on the gravel waiting to open the door.

Calm down, Lizzie. Cool it. She’s just a human being, even if she is John’s ex-wife and Clara’s mother. No need to get in a flap.

Slowing her pace, she walked out of the front door, in time to see John embracing a tall, stately woman with short, softly styled pepper and salt hair. She had her eyes closed and she was hugging him back, her affection obvious.

So this was Caroline. Mother of the dreaded Clara and also John’s former wife. A well-preserved woman of seventy, wearing a gorgeously tailored lightweight trouser suit in
a soft shade of antique rose. Lizzie almost laughed as she observed them. Caroline reminded her a little of a favourite actress of hers, from the television. Someone who played a character as warm and cheerful and generally all-round good-hearted as John claimed his ex-wife was.

Were appearances deceptive? Lizzie sincerely hoped not.

As John released her, Caroline looked over his shoulder and smiled. Instantly and unguardedly. Her eyes were kind. Just like the actress’s.

‘And you must be Lizzie. How lovely to meet you.’ The older woman surged forward, her movements light and swift and energetic. Before she knew it, Lizzie found herself being hugged with not inconsiderable strength. It was the easiest thing in the world to hug back. And to mean it.

‘I’m so grateful to you for letting me intrude on your Saturday afternoon. Especially when you’re entertaining,’ said Caroline as she let Lizzie go. Instantly she slipped her hand through Lizzie’s arm, clearly a person who gave physical contact easily.

‘I’m glad you could come. You’re very welcome,’ said Lizzie, realising that within the space of a few moments, she meant that too.

They walked through the house together, arm in arm, Caroline remarking on the airy elegance and beauty of the rooms they passed through. Lizzie caught John’s eye, and he nodded as if to say,
I told you so, I told you you’d get on
.

On the poolside, Tom got a ferocious hug too, and the others a warm smile and an easy handshake. Lizzie could see Brent and Shelley watching her closely, as well they might on discovering Caroline’s identity. But Lizzie beamed back
at them to let them know that despite the oddness of the situation, all was well.

Caroline settled down on a lounger, and within minutes it was as if she’d been with them all afternoon. She chatted with John about business while watching the resumption of the tag-water-polo-murderball match. Lizzie brought her some food and wine, and as she settled on a lounger beside the older woman, they fell into conversation.

‘That’s a beautiful dress, so fresh and summery. Did you make it yourself? I chatted with John on the phone a week or so ago, and he told me about your designing and dressmaking, and the boutique you work in.’ Caroline smiled. ‘He’s so very proud of your achievements, Lizzie.’

Still a little on edge, Lizzie instinctively went ‘shields up’. Her own mother still had a tendency to patronise, when it came to her sewing. But almost as quickly, she realised Caroline’s remarks were genuine, completely without side. Even on so short an acquaintance, Lizzie was drawn to the older woman, warming to the honesty and candour in her.

‘Yes, I’m quite proud of myself too. For a while, I was a bit aimless in life, but I really feel I’ve got purpose now. I’ve always loved clothes and sewing, so it’s good to be using my talents properly at last.’ She smoothed her fingers over the bright cotton of her skirt. ‘John’s helped. A lot. With the dress agency and everything, but with encouragement too. I think he’s given me a lot of extra confidence.’

‘He’s a very shrewd man, and a kind one too.’ For a moment, Caroline looked far away, a bit dreamy; perhaps a little troubled too. Was she thinking of her daughter? ‘And it’s obvious he cares for you, my dear. A very great deal.’

‘Um … Yes … I think he does.’

‘Of course he does.’ Caroline set aside her glass and
got to her feet, straightening up with ease, not at all like a seventy-year-old woman. ‘How about you showing me around the house a little, my dear? It’s very beautiful and I’d love to see more of it –’ she glanced across to where John had just emerged from the cabana in his trunks ‘– and John seems about to hurl himself into this game, whatever it is.’ She paused. ‘That is, unless you’re planning to join in too?’

‘I had a good long swim this morning. A proper one, not all this farting about and splashing like big kids.’

Caroline laughed, and offered Lizzie her hand to help her up. ‘Good. Let’s look around, shall we?’

Uh oh, are we heading for some sort of heart to heart? Perhaps a kindly warning?

At first it seemed not, and as they walked through the ground floor of the house, Caroline’s praise of the rooms, especially the orangery and Lizzie’s workroom, only reinforced to her how very wonderful it was to live there. But when they reached the upper floors, and her bedroom, Lizzie sensed that now was the time.

‘This is an exquisite room,’ said Caroline, and then took her time as she wandered from dressing table, to bed, and from window to window. ‘What a lovely view. Shall we sit a while, so I can catch my breath?’

Oh dear.

Lizzie took her place beside the older woman, repetitively rearranging the folds and fullness of her skirts. She knew now that she liked John’s ex-wife – in fact, she liked her very much – but the moment was still nerve-wracking.

Caroline looked a bit tentative too. She glanced towards the bed. ‘Perhaps I’m prying too much, my dear, but do you and John actually sleep together? I only ask, because he simply couldn’t get to sleep with anyone else in the
room when we were married. We maintained separate bedrooms … Even though …’ The older woman’s cheeks were a little bit pink. ‘Even though we did have a normal married life in other respects. At least at first … We were always more friends than lovers, although I must admit I was very deeply infatuated with his beauty.’