The Accidental Bride (30 page)

A general excited chatter erupted across the party, all eyes darting from John, to her, and back again, as she rose from her seat with her mother and made her way to the men. All hints of nervousness fled away, to be replaced by relief and happy pride as John took both her hands in his and leant across to kiss her.

His lips were like heaven, even in just this fleeting gesture, and this assertion of their status. And the way John smiled at her as he pulled back was so focused, so intimate between them, that she almost gasped. They were at the centre of the party, yet alone together for a moment. It wasn’t sexual, but an intense communion, the two of them against the world.

People rushed forward, and all became a whirl of congratulations, introductions, and well wishes. In a momentary lull and to gasps of stunned admiration, John retrieved from his pocket the ring Lizzie had been wearing all week, and quickly restored it once again to her finger, kissing her again to seal the moment.

‘I’m sorry we’ve derailed your birthday, Dad,’ said Lizzie a little while later, feeling a bit like visiting royalty when she and John were circulating separately, accepting good wishes.

Her father gave her a hug. ‘Think nothing of it, Elizabeth. I’m thrilled for it to be so, and incredibly happy for you, sweetheart. I like John very much. You’ve chosen very well.’

Lizzie met her father’s eyes. His expression was shrewd. ‘You don’t think he’s too old for me?’ she asked, suddenly anxious. ‘I’m not just marrying him for his money, you know.’

‘Of course you aren’t. He’s a charming man. Very warm, and surprisingly unaffected, given his background. I think you’ll be very happy together. I think being with someone older is very good for you.’ He nodded to himself, as if marking an internal debating point. ‘I know you and I have had our differences in the past, about the way you’ve conducted yourself … but I see a new Elizabeth today. A woman of confidence and purpose, as well as a woman in love. Your news today has been the best birthday gift of all. Even better than the fabulous shirts and the Ratcliffe, although I must say, I was delighted to receive those too.’ He plucked at the fine cotton of his gift.

‘Thanks, Dad. I’m so glad you like John and approve, despite the ages. I think Mum’s still a bit worried, even though John’s so massively eligible and all that.’

‘Oh, don’t worry, she’ll come around. You’re just the first of her chicks to get engaged. She’s bound to be a bit broody over you.’ He paused, looking reflective for a moment. ‘Although she might be a little nervous about the prospect of your new in-laws, Elizabeth. You know my feelings on that matter, but I think your mother might still harbour
misdirected awe at meeting members of the aristocracy. Don’t worry, though, I’ll put her right.’ He winked.

Something to consider, thought Lizzie later, as she and John took their leave. Anticipating a fairly boozy afternoon, he’d booked them rooms at the village’s rather nice vintage pub-come-hotel, and parked the Bentley there so they could walk over to her parents’ home. A good thing too, because when a couple of cases of chilled Champagne had arrived at the party, delivered in a refrigerated van from a local high-end supermarket, both she and John had enjoyed several glasses toasting her father and themselves.

As they waved and called out their goodnights along the lane, Lizzie shivered. She wasn’t really cold. It was just a reaction. The excitement. The utter relief of John being accepted so happily by her family. An awareness that the more difficult introductions still lay ahead.

‘You’re cold,’ said John, slipping his jacket off and draping it around her shoulders.

‘Thanks, love.’ As his hand enclosed hers, some of the wibbles dissipated. Strength seemed to flow from him to her, giving her fortitude. With him at her side, she could handle anything.

Still, it was better to air her thoughts.

‘I think that might have been the easier set of parents, you know. No offence.’

John was quiet for a moment as they strolled along. ‘In some ways, yes, perhaps. But in other ways, I wouldn’t say there’ll be much difference.’ He gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Like I told you, my mother and father will be so thrilled that I’m finally marrying a suitable girl of childbearing age that it wouldn’t matter if you were cross-eyed, had green hair and chewed gum all the time.’

‘Well, seeing as how I don’t have or do any of those, I should be all right, then.’

‘You will be. Don’t worry.’ His voice was assertive, no nonsense, that of John the decision maker, confident in his choices and his chosen path. But was he really so assured of her welcome at Montcalm? ‘I know my family and I know you, and they’re not really so stuck up and entrenched in their class that they wouldn’t love you. Nobody in their right mind wouldn’t love you, Lizzie. You’re perfect! Believe me. That’s definitive. I have spoken.’ He flashed her the wonder-smile.

‘Well, in that case, yes, I am perfect.’ She grinned back at him. ‘This way now …’ She pointed to a narrow footpath, flanked by bushes, leading off the main lane along which they’d been walking. ‘It’s a bit dark and we’ll have to watch our step. No street lighting here. But it’s a quicker way back to the George.’

She led the way along the path, a route she’d taken so many times in her younger days, but suddenly made magical and mysterious by the presence of the man escorting her. There was damp in the air, the smell of leaves and mulch. Today had been bright and sunny for her father’s party, but yesterday there had been rain and the soggy aura of it still lingered here, making their footing muddy.

Halfway along the path, John drew her to a halt.

‘Mm … muddy paths through woods. Does that bring back memories?’ Pulling her into his arms, he kissed her fiercely, and she responded. It had been agony behaving themselves all day in front of her parents and her family, and their friends.

But oh yes, those memories. A rainy afternoon in the park at the Waverley. Scrabbling through undergrowth, a
willow switch, a fallen tree. Happy days. He’d thrashed her bottom, and oh how it had hurt. And yet, barely able to remember the pain, she had a perfect recollection of the delicious pleasure afterwards, and of riding John to orgasm in that soggy grove.

Against her body, as she kissed him back, his cock was iron-hard.

‘Jesus, Lizzie, I want you,’ he growled as they broke apart, gasping. ‘It’s been bloody torture today, wanting you, fighting to control myself. Imagining what’s beneath those pretty pink skirts, and longing to plunge myself into you.’

Lizzie laughed, shimmying against him. It was madness. John was a force of nature when he was roused. ‘My mother would have had a fit if she’d known you were having such randy thoughts. I don’t know where she gets these ideas that I shouldn’t be sleeping with you or anything, but she does have them. It’s ridiculous really, given that I was only just born in wedlock myself. Conveniently premature, you might say.’

‘She’d be scandalised if she knew what I was thinking now.’ John’s eyes flashed like blue stars in the gloom. ‘Planning to drag her beautiful daughter into the bushes and shag her senseless, engagement ring or otherwise.’

He kissed her again, tongue going in deep as he tugged at her skirt, then rummaged amongst her petticoats so he could caress her bottom and thighs.

‘So beautiful … So beautiful …’ he murmured, stroking her, his fingertips sliding expertly into her groove from behind, touching her sex.

Lizzie churned herself against him, tantalised and frustrated by the near contact. His fingers were close to her clit, but not quite brushing it. She stood on her tip-toes,
trying to tilt her hips so she could get some stroking action.

‘Hold your skirt up … Let me get at you …’

It was madness. They were on a public path that was well used, even in a smallish village like this. People cut through here all the time, on their way between the George and a couple of other pubs and the houses along her parents’ lane and a small residential development in the same direction.

Yet still she did it, and John switched his approach, pushing his hand into her knickers from the front, finding her sweet spot instantly and starting to rub and rub, even as he kissed her again, harder than ever. Lizzie clung to him, moaning and rocking. She wanted to drag him into the bushes, and to throw herself down in the mud and muck so he could mount her.

As pleasure gathered between her thighs, she was almost on the point of doing it, even though what last shreds of sanity she currently possessed were shrieking
no, no, you mustn’t
. This wasn’t the rainstorm of that day at the Waverley, but everywhere was still damp. Within moments they’d be plastered with mud and twigs and God alone knew what else, and this was a village where her father had a respectable reputation, and the conventional George was not the crazy, risqué Waverley, where naughty behaviour was actively encouraged.

If she and John were to stagger into the pub covered in filth and leaves, looking as if they’d just been bonking in the undergrowth, word would get back to her parents, and that would embarrass them.

Even then, though, she almost groaned the words, almost hauled John by the hand into the bushes so he could finish in the time-honoured fashion, with his beautiful cock thrusting hard inside her.

But a high, clear shout and a whistle coalesced the shreds of her wits with a jolt.

‘Freddie! Freddie! Come here, you bad dog!’

Like lightning, John withdrew his hand and patted her skirts back modestly into place, just as a boisterous black and white spaniel charged towards them from the direction they were heading, paused a moment to pant eagerly at them, and then dashed off down the lane behind them. Only to be followed by a middle-aged woman, short of breath, dashing in his wake.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry!’ she cried, clearly embarrassed. ‘He just won’t behave himself. He didn’t jump up, did he?’

‘No, it’s fine,’ said John, and Lizzie was forced to smile. He was so cool, so composed. ‘Would you like us to help you catch him?’

‘No, I can manage. Thank you. He’ll probably stop at the other end of the lane and wait for me. He’s not a bad dog really … just young, you know?’

‘He’s very cute,’ said Lizzie, in an effort to sound normal and not let the woman think she’d interrupted anything. ‘A lovely dog.’

The woman bustled on. ‘Yes, he’s a sweetie really. I just hope he didn’t startle you both. Have a good evening.’ Then she scurried out of view, calling for Freddie again.

‘Good evening,’ called out John, towards her voice.

When their new friend was out of earshot, Lizzie burst out laughing. John hauled her into his arms, laughing too.

‘That was a close thing,’ he murmured in her ear, then kissed her neck.

‘An unbelievably close thing,’ gasped Lizzie.

It was true. She’d been almost on the point of coming. It had faded now, discombobulated by Freddie and his
mistress, but close to John, feeling his strong body pressed to hers and breathing in his intoxicating cologne over the smell of leaves and the damp night, it would only take a moment to get there again.

‘Ah … I thought so. Do you want me to finish you?’ He breathed deeply against her skin, teeth grazing her neck as if he were a blond Dracula. He wouldn’t actually bite or suck, though, because they were having an early lunch with her parents tomorrow, and he wouldn’t make a mark that they’d see.

So tempting. So very tempting. Her pussy quickened. The forbidden and the riskiness were an aphrodisiac. But this was her parents’ village, and word would get around.

‘Yes, but back at the George, hot-stuff. We’re a respectable engaged couple now, and we have to behave with a bit of decorum.’ She nuzzled his neck, and did a bit of biting of her own, nipping his earlobe.

‘Decorum, my arse,’ said John, grinning in the darkness. ‘You make me feel like a mad young lad who can’t keep his hands off his girlfriend.’ He paused, running his hands up and down her body, through her clothes. ‘But the beds in the George are a lot more comfortable, and far less muddy than rolling in the undergrowth. So, come on, let’s go!’

Heedless of the shadows and the unknown footing of the path, they set off at a run, hand in hand, eager to touch each other.

Coffee and a croissant in the beer garden of The George Arms was a very pleasant thing of a Sunday morning. Nibbling a bit of the flaky confection, Lizzie glanced up at the window of her room, glinting in the gentle sunshine.

Last night, they’d plunged into that room and thrown themselves at each other. For all John’s talk about comfort, it’d been speed that’d been of the essence after a long day of abstinence. Within seconds, she’d been on her back on the bed, still in her dress, knickers flung across the room, while John powered between her legs, thrusting and shoving with very little of his usual erotic finesse.

It’d been a wild fast ride that had ended in a wild fast orgasm, with both of them biting their lips to keep in their shouts. For such a venerable old pub, that looked so solidly built, the George had extraordinarily thin walls; and no special soundproofing such as the wicked Waverley boasted.

This morning they’d stifled their cries of pleasure with kisses, the love slower and more leisurely; more exploratory and more repeated, yet with the excitement geed up by
a few lazy slaps to Lizzie’s bottom. Though the bench beneath her now wasn’t exactly soft, she could barely detect the aftershock. It’d been play, lightly applied, that she’d invited to increase her enjoyment rather than as any form of punishment.

John was relaxed now, sipping his coffee, reading a newspaper. Every now and again, he’d wink at her over the top of it, and grin.

They’d both slept well. And spent almost all the night together, even though they each had a room. Tired out by the excitement of the day, and the now-resolved anxiousness of introducing her fiancé to her parents, Lizzie had found it easy to nod off. With John beside her, at least for a little while.

And he’d been there when she woke up.

‘Wow, were you able to sleep all night?’ She’d reached to stroke his handsome face as he blinked his way awake.