His smile was slow to spread across his face. “You know, I hoped you might feel that way.” He tossed a look over his shoulder. “Stay here.”
She frowned, but waited outside his apartment, for the minute or so he was gone. When he returned, it was with a small burgundy box. Jane lifted her hands to her mouth as she exclaimed under her breath.
Carter knelt before her, his smile glued to his face. “Jane Morrison, will you do me the honor of agreeing to be my wife?”
She nodded. “Yes! A million times, yes!”
He slid the ring onto her ring finger and stood, pulling her to him. His lips crushed against hers, imprinting on her with love and gratitude. “You are everything I have ever dreamed of. How did I ever think my life was full before I met you?”
She shook her head. “I know. I can’t imagine a day without you now, Carter. You are everything I have ever wanted in this life.”
He laced his fingers through hers, lifting her hand to his lips and placing a kiss against them. He wanted to take her inside and make love to her like he intended to do for the rest of their lives. Unfortunately, it was not possible. “Oh, Jane. I should warn you. We have company.”
She furrowed her brow but allowed him to pull her gently into his apartment. Karina sat, cross-legged, on the floor of the lounge, an iPad on her lap. On the sofa, was a man she hadn’t yet met. Similar in coloring to Carter, but different in looks.
“Eliot? Karina? I’d like to introduce you to the future Mrs. Carter Mann-Hughes.”
Jane smiled at them shyly, then looked at Carter. “I really do like the sound of that.”
EPILOGUE
“Almost there,” he said with a laugh in his voice. “Watch yourself, there’s a small step here.”
Jane bit down on her lip, gripping his hand as he guided her blindfolded form further along a path and over a small rise. She shivered as a blast of icy wind hit her, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Where the heck are we?” She asked impatiently, earning a smile from Carter.
“You’ll see.” He lifted his strong hands to her shoulders and cupped them. “Ready?”
She nodded, unconsciously holding her breath. Carter loosened the blindfold and slipped it off her head, running his hands over her long mane of silky curls.
Jane’s expression was confused, as she took in the picturesque view.
The house was stone, and large. It had the feel of an old, gentrified country mansion, with wisteria rambling over one wall, and Ivy over another. Enormous dormer windows punctuated the third floor, where the lower two levels had very old glass panes that rippled in the frigid midday light.
The path leading to the house was formed from pale gravel, and in the middle of it was a fountain. A sculptured horse stood elegantly in the middle, captured in a state of rearing on its hind legs. Water spurted from its parted lips.
“What is this, Carter?”
He wrapped his arms around her, putting both hands on her still-flat stomach. “I thought a family home was in order.”
She spun in the circle of his arms, her eyes wide. “How did you find out?”
He shook his head. “You don’t think I know my wife well enough to guess when she’s hiding such a secret? I’ve come a long way since we first met.”
Her dark eyes scanned his face, looking for a hint of how he felt. “I know we said we’d wait. It was an accident…”
“Obviously. That’s not to say we didn’t give it every opportunity to happen.”
“You don’t mind?”
“My darling wife, the last two years, married to you, have been the best in my life. To add to what we share with another little Jane is beyond my wildest hopes.”
She frowned. “It could be another Carter, you know.”
“Don’t even joke about that!”
“That would be perfect.”
He lifted a finger and traced her lips. “Why didn’t you tell me, Jane?”
“I… I didn’t know how.” Her voice was just a whisper.
His heart clenched, as it always did, when he felt something was wrong in his wife’s world. He never wanted her to feel pain again. He scanned her face with an earnest expression of concentration. “What’s the problem?”
He knew her too well. There was no point attempting to obfuscate her feelings. “I feel like… it’s already too much. Anita’s happy. I’ve found you. My life is perfect. How can I be more fortunate than this? How can I deserve a baby as well?”
His expression was sombre. “Beautiful Jane. A person as purely good as you deserves only the best. In your whole life, I doubt I’ll be able to give you what you deserve – which is everything good and wonderful.”
She shook her head, and tears pricked her eyes. “You are the best.”
He shrugged. “I hope you always feel that way.”
“I will.” She had no doubts. Not a single one. The love she’d felt for him, the day she’d accepted his proposal, had been unquantifiable. And yet, in the intervening years, it had doubled, trebled, and continued to grow with every day. The more she knew him, the more she needed him.
“Do you like the house?” He asked, nodding up at the enormous home.
“You’ve bought it already, haven’t you?”
He laughed. “Guilty as charged.”
She shook her head and tried to school her features into an expression of frustration, but she was simply too excited. “Okay, yes. I love it. And I love you!”
“Care for a tour, Mrs Mann-Hughes?”
She nodded. “Perhaps we could start with the bedroom?”
He groaned as he ran his hands slowly down her back. “I would love nothing more. Unfortunately, I recklessly invited half of Manhattan to come for a Thanksgiving dinner.”
“You did?”
He nodded. “What better way to warm our house? Our first family home.”
She sighed. “I think my plan would have been just as warming.”
His laugh was rich. “You are right. I will leave all organising to you from now on.”
“Good.” She linked fingers with him. “Come on.”
They paused on the threshold.
“Who’s coming, anyway?”
“Jenna and that guy she’s been dating--.”
Jane interrupted him. “His name is Michael. It’s been a year and a half.”
“Right. Michael. Anita is coming, and Thomas.”
“Not half of Manhattan, but some of the best of it.”
“And Karina and Eliot.”
Jane was glad. She adored Karina, and Eliot and Carter seemed to be patching up the differences of their youth, as they got older.
“Now, Mrs Mann-Hughes, stand still.”
He bent down and scooped her up, cradling her against his broad chest.
She shook her head. “What are you doing?”
“A fine tradition. I’m carrying you over the threshold of our home, for the first time.”
The house inside was even more than she could have dreamed. It was almost completely empty, except for swathes of ivy that were strung along the bannisters. That, and an enormous oak table which was set for Thanksgiving, with pumpkins and chestnuts running its length.
“Just a table?”
“Well, you only have one year to finish your course. Decorating this felt like it would make sense.”
Her heart soared, and immediately, she began to furnish the home in her mind. She could see where she’d mix old and new, different types of wood, fabrics and textures.
“Oh, Carter.” Her lips were quivering with emotion. “Thank you. It is just perfect.”
“I hope so.”
She lifted her fingers and splayed them across his chest. “When are the others arriving?”
He looked at his Rolex. “Any time now.”
“It won’t hurt if we keep them waiting a bit, will it?” The wicked glint in her eyes was all he needed.
“If I remember correctly, there’s a guest room somewhere near here.”
>
They laughed as they ran through the house, until they found it.
Snow began to fall as, on the cold, bare floorboards, their bodies joined as one. Jane held her husband tight, and in his ear, she whispered, “The house is nice. Everything’s nice. But this baby and you… that’s all I really need.”
He kissed her gently, his whole body filled with love and desire. “That’s good. Because you’re stuck with us both.”
THE END.
Following is an excerpt from LOVE IN THE FAST LANE by Clare Connelly. It’s available to purchase here.
LOVE IN THE FAST LANE
Clare Connelly
All the characters in this book are fictitious and have no existence outside the author’s imagination. They have no relation to anyone bearing the same name or names and are pure invention.
All rights reserved. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reprinted by any means without permission of the Author.
The illustration on the cover of this book features model/s and bears no relation to the characters described within.
First published 2015
(c) Clare Connelly
Photo Credit: dollarphotoclub.com/mrcats
Contact Clare:
http://www.clareconnelly.co.uk
Blog: http://clarewriteslove.wordpress.com/
Email: [email protected]
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CHAPTER ONE
It had been three years since she’d seen him, but one thing hadn’t changed.
A single sighting of Leonardo Fontana could still turn her insides to mush. He’d changed so much since the last time she’d seen him. Three year ago, he’d been in a hospital bed, possibly crippled for life, his strong, handsome face bruised, his head bandaged, and his body kept still with casts to allow his bones to heal.
Now? There was no sign that the twenty eight year old had so much as suffered a scratch, let alone been at the centre of a crash that was generally believed to be the worst in professional racing in a decade.
It was as though Aurora was slipping through the silvery threads of time, staring across at the man she’d once loved with all her heart. Though they’d kept their relationship a carefully guarded secret, nothing had been understated about how much they’d loved one another.
She studied him openly through the crowd of the bar. Dressed in a slate grey suit that barely concealed his raw, muscular strength, with his dark hair brushed back from his face, he was the picture of Italian virility. His eyes were wide-set and calculating, rimmed in thick dark lashes and splattered with flecks of grey and green. His nose was aquiline; she had joked, in the past, that he was the ultimate patrician. His lips, oh his lips. Her stomach turned as she remembered the power his lips had to reduce her to a quivering mess.
“Aurora? Are you listening?” Beatrice leaned towards her best friend, waving a perfectly manicured hand in her face. Aurora blinked and forced her gaze away from her former lover.
She smiled apologetically, encompassing her three companions. “Let me guess. We were talking about the wedding.”
Beatrice, Aurora’s closest friend since the first day of high school, was nestled into the crook of her fiancé Peter’s arm. They were a strikingly handsome pair. Beatrice had her mother’s complexion – fair skin, auburn hair, and green eyes; while Peter was fair and swarthy, like a true Viking. Every minute or so, Beatrice’s gaze was drawn to the sparkling emerald and diamond ring she wore on her ring finger.
Beside the beamingly, loved-up couple was the man Aurora knew they were hoping might finally tempt her into the blissful world of coupledom. And he was nice. Alec Shaw was a mid-level financier like Peter; wealthy and successful, though not boring or staid. He was handsome, in a conservative, Ralph Lauren wearing way, with his blue eyes and neatly cut walnut brown hair. His shoes were handmade, his watch expensive, and his manners practiced yet perfect. He was destined to be Peter’s best man at the upcoming wedding, and Aurora to be Beatrice’s Maid of Honor. Therefore, by some kind of unwritten yet all-known wedding law, being both single, they were also destined to get together.
“We can have the wedding at Farnley,” Beatrice referred, with a shrug, to her family’s ancient country estate. A grand hall with expansive gardens and a duck pond that Aurora had once fallen into, Aurora could perfectly picture the splendid event. “But then, there’s the fact that most of Peter’s family and friends are based here, in the City. The travel would be an inconvenience.”
Aurora lifted her champagne to her lips and sipped it thoughtfully. “Farnley is not exactly the end of the earth. It’s only two hours out of London.” The first time she’d seen the grand mansion, she’d thought it the most beautiful palace on earth. Of course, she’d grown up on the eighth floor of an unspectacular council flat in East London. A full scholarship to a prestigious public school had thrown her into an entirely different orbit; her friends came from families that had private jets, royal godparents and claims to ancient thrones. Beatrice had been no different. A mother descended from the Hanovers; a father who was a different kind of royalty – the son of a famous Hollywood director – and a half-brother who had become a legend in the world of Formula One racing. A man who had broken Aurora’s heart into a dustbowl of pieces and feelings. She tried to concentrate on the question at hand.
“But when you think about the oldies and the babies, that seems like a lot to ask of people.”
Aurora slid a side-long glance of amusement in Alec’s direction. Behind him, in the distance of the crowded bar, she was aware of Leo, but she forced herself not to look again. Staring at him as she had done was a sign of weakness that she didn’t intend to repeat. “People travel further than that for weddings all the time. Have the thing where you want it to be. What do you think, Pete?”
He lifted his eyes heavenward in his very diffident way and squeezed his fiance’s shoulders. “I think we should elope in Ibiza.”
Beatrice laughed. “Peter Donald Andre Beaumont, there is no way we’re going to elope.”
“Worth a try, eh?” He winked at Aurora.
“I think the idea of an island wedding has merit.” His voice, deep and gravelly, was intoned with the hint of an accent that came from having spent the first five years of his life in Italy. Aurora didn’t have to look up to know that Leonardo had joined them. She gripped the champagne flute tightly, to hide the way her fingers were shaking, and lifted it to her lips.
“You came!” Beatrice jumped up from the table, her tall, slender length unfurling elegantly to wrap around her older brother. “You really came!”
“It is not every day that your little sister becomes engaged,” he responded with a casual flicker of his brows.
“But still! You’re always so busy travelling around being a Formula One hot shot. I wasn’t even sure I could count on you for the wedding.”
Still, Aurora couldn’t look at him. Her eyes were glued somewhere past them, the lump in her throat making speech impossible.
“It turned out I was in London.”
Beatrice pulled away with a laugh. “I see. So you’re here because it just happened to fit in with your frenetic lifestyle.”
“Does it matter? I’m here.” His grin was lopsided and sexy as sin. “Congratulations, baby sister. I’m pleased for you.” He extended a hand to Peter. “You do know you’re getting more than you bargained for, right?”
“I’m counting on it,” Peter responded with a confident nod of his head.
To Aurora’s absolute chagrin, Leo pulled a chair out and sat wedged between Peter and Alec. “Leo, this is my best man and occasional thorn in my side, Alec Shaw.”
“Leo Fontana? In the flesh?” Alec asked, his eyes as wide as wheels.
“Guilty as charged,” he said with a small nod.
“Alec’s a racing
enthusiast,” Peter explained unnecessarily. “And of course you must know Aurora?”
Aurora couldn’t have been sure she was still breathing.
Her lungs were burning as though flame had torn through them. Her mouth was dry and claggy, her tongue thick in her throat, and perspiration was beading at the very top of her forehead. Three years and now, in a glamorous bar in the East End, the moment of truth had finally arrived.
Be brave. She forced herself to lift her pale blue eyes to his face, carefully keeping her expression neutral.
“I have had the pleasure,” he responded drily, leaving Aurora in very little doubt that he considered their acquaintance to have been anything but pleasurable.
Even Beatrice had not known about their relationship. “Did you used to have a crush on Leo, Aurora? Or was it the other way around?” She giggled, obviously not realising she was driving a stake of mortification into her best friend’s heart. For it had been so, so much more than that.
Be brave. “A million years ago,” Aurora said with an attempt at a smile. “That’s ancient history, isn’t it, Leonardo?”
“Haven’t thought of you in years.”
Her heart turned over in her chest, for she had no doubt it was true. She had dreamed of him every night, and imagined she’d seen him everywhere she went. She’d studiously avoided any television sets when he was racing. And, if the gossip magazines that delighted in covering his string of glamorous relationships were to believed, he had long ago forgotten her existence.
It should have given her relief. After all, the ease with which he’d moved on underscored how right she’d been to end things. But relief was a long way off from how she felt.
Whether she sensed the undercurrent of tension between them or just had a one-track mind, Beatrice reached out and put a hand over Leo’s. “Seriously, what do you think? Farnley? Or the City?”
He locked his eyes with Aurora’s, and the searing anger in them would have taken her breath away, had she any to spare. “There is always Rimini.”
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