Midnight Wedding

by Sophie Weston

  Home. It sounded odd. Holly had not had a home, a real home, for so long. And Jack did not have one at all; did not even seem to feel the lack of one. Yet suddenly here he was calling a little plantation cabin where they would spend just one night ‘home’. It was crazy. Yet somehow it felt right.

  Impulsively she turned to him.

  ‘Jack?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Thank you.’

  He swung the buggy into the lea of the cottage and cut the engine.

  ‘No need to thank me. I please myself.’

  She shook her head. ‘No, you don’t. You never wanted to marry me. I knew it, even when you were saying it was the only solution. You didn’t say it but I knew that you thought I should have faced them. I shouldn’t have said yes…’

  Jack looked down at her. ‘Second thoughts? It’s a bit late for that.’

  Holly said vehemently, ‘No second thoughts.’

  His eyes gleamed in the moonlight. ‘Then let’s go inside.’

  He leaped lightly down from the buggy and came round to help her. It was no more than a courtesy. He just touched her hand as she stepped out of the vehicle. But Holly could have sworn that his fingers burned her palm.

  The bongo drums started under her ribcage again. She put a hand to her head.

  ‘What is it?’ said Jack swiftly.

  He slipped an arm round her waist to steady her. That was worse. His strength seemed to flow through her, imprinting her.

  Why is my body reacting like this? thought Holly, frantic.

  But she could not say that. Not aloud. Not to Jack. She searched for something he would believe and her eyes fell on the tall bush of trumpet flowers that tumbled over the end of the verandah.

  Seizing the excuse gratefully, she said, ‘The scent of those flowers. It made my head swim for a moment.’

  His look was shrewd. ‘Do you want me to carry you?’

  ‘No!’

  He laughed. It was an amazingly sensual sound.

  ‘Well, lean on me, then, my bride.’

  And Holly had no choice but to do just that. It made her legs tremble as if she was going to pass out. What is happening to me? she thought.

  He produced a key to the cabin.

  ‘How did you get that? I left mine at the desk.’

  ‘Forward planning again. I told Paula to bring it with her. I thought you would want to come straight back here, rather than go collecting keys at the desk.’ He unlocked the door and swept her inside, pausing to look down on her only when he had closed the door. ‘Was I wrong?’

  Outside the cicadas were thrumming like the percussion section of a full orchestra. So why did it sound like thunder when she swallowed?

  ‘N-no.’

  He snapped the light switch. It turned on three table lamps, their soft light pooling around the huge four-poster bed.

  He looked down at her.

  ‘I never noticed before.’ He sounded taken aback. ‘Your eyes are like marmalade.’

  ‘Lovely,’ said Holly with irony. But she shivered with pleasure to have him look at her like that.

  He touched the corner of one eye very gently. ‘It is. All green and gold.’

  Still in the comparative shadows of the door, Holly could not read his expression, though she searched his face like an explorer in new terrain.

  Jack seemed to make up his mind. He turned, masking her with his body. Putting his hands either side of her head, he leaned towards her.

  ‘And am I wrong about this too?’ he murmured.

  Holly found herself arching towards him. It was a long, long kiss.

  Her feelings bewildered her. She had not known such sensations were possible, Her mouth felt fuller, softer, infinitely more responsive than she had ever imagined. When Jack raised his head and murmured, ‘Mmm, sweet,’ she knew exactly what he meant.

  He brushed her hair back from her naked shoulders. Holly shivered. Her skin seemed suddenly to have become super-sensitive. She held her breath as he bent his head. When—with excruciating slowness—he touched the tip of his tongue to the heated skin, she gave a low moan of pure need.

  He smiled down at her, his eyes so tender she barely recognised him. And then he put her away from him with a rueful smile. He stepped back…

  No, screamed her heart.

  She swayed towards him. Her body felt light and vulnerable. He caught her by the shoulders, holding her at arm’s length.

  ‘Not a good idea,’ he said unevenly. ‘I shouldn’t have kissed you.’

  Holly closed her eyes. She had a vision of herself as a leaf, tossed and rushed and spun about, half drowned in the ferocity of a waterfall. By contrast, Jack felt like a rock. And she needed to haul herself up on that rock or she would die.

  She inserted herself under his guard and clung like a magnet.

  ‘Holly!’ He sounded strangled.

  Ignoring his resistance, she reached up. He avoided her blindly seeking lips.

  ‘Stop a moment. Think!’ His chest was lifting and falling as if it hurt. ‘I promised you a marriage of convenience.’

  Holly was breathing as if she had just run up the hill from the Place des Abbesses. She opened her eyes and shook her head, trying to clear it. ‘What?’

  ‘You didn’t sign up for this. And nor, God help me, did I.’

  Her blood drummed. He was distracted, utterly unlike cool, controlled Jack Armour. Had she done that to him?

  Holly’s lips parted. He looked shaken to the core.

  ‘Stop looking at me like that!’ he said in a voice she hardly recognised.

  She said his name, voiceless. It was a plea. She did not quite know what she was begging for.

  Jack did, though. As if he could not help himself, he hauled her tight against him and suddenly he was kissing her fiercely.

  Holly made a small sound, half-fear, half-exhilaration. A thought flashed: I wish I knew what to do next.

  He seemed to know the fastenings of the new dress better than she did. The white stuff fell to the floor with a soft shushing sound, revealing its secret.

  He made a sound as if he had walked into a wall.

  When Paula had taken her shopping, neither of them had thought about underwear. When she’d been getting ready, Holly had found that the wide drawstring neck of the wedding dress had shown the strap of every one of the three bras she possessed. So there had been only one solution. Now he held her away from him and Holly’s breath stopped at the look in his eyes.

  ‘This,’ he said raggedly, ‘is not fair. I’m trying to be chivalrous.’

  As if of their own volition, his fingers began to undo his shirt. He was clumsy in his haste. Jack, who was never clumsy.

  He never took his eyes off her, never for one second. And suddenly Holly felt beautiful. Shy and proud and beautiful all at the same time.

  She watched him rip his clothes away and thought: It’s all right. I do know what to do next, after all.

  Her panties were thin with much washing. She slipped out of them and left them there on the floor as she walked into his arms.

  But even then he held back for one last, agonising second.

  ‘Holly,’ he said, on a shaken note.

  She thought she felt his mouth on her hair.

  ‘Are you sure?’ It was so quiet she hardly heard him. ‘Oh, God, I shouldn’t do this. You don’t know what you’re doing.’

  She pressed closer, looking up to meet his eyes. Her mouth trembled. Then, very deliberately, she ran her open palms down the taut back. She felt the muscles clench under her caress and smiled.

  ‘Don’t I?’

  He went completely still. For a terrible moment Holly thought he was going to resist after all. She shook back her head so that her hair fell and brushed the arms so tight around her.

  If he doesn’t make love to me now, I’ll die. She was not sure that she had not said it aloud.

  He let out a long, uneven breath. And then he was lifting her, carrying her, taking her to that bed
in its pool of light…

  She learned that Jack Armour was a leisurely lover. She learned that he took pleasure seriously. He explored her body with meticulous sensuality, refusing to be deflected by shyness, inexperience, or even her longing to please him in turn.

  ‘Do you like that?’ the low voice would demand. And until she answered he would leave her in the exquisite torture of suspense.

  ‘Yes,’ she gasped in the end.

  ‘And that? That?’

  ‘Yes. Oh, yes.’

  The total intimacy of it was terrifying. And yet somehow straight out of her dreams. Holly felt she had been waiting for this place, this time, all her life.

  Her own body turned into a wild creature she did not recognise. It was Jack whom she knew. Jack who steadied and held her, even while his touch drove her crazy. Jack whom she could trust.

  Very gently, he shifted her hips. She held her breath, not quite believing it. And then she felt him inside her. Holly screwed her eyes tight shut, turning her head on the pillow, waiting…

  ‘Holly.’

  How could he sound so calm?

  He took her head between both hands, stilling her frenzy.

  ‘Holly, look at me.’

  She opened her eyes reluctantly. He was looking at her with heart-stopping tenderness. She hardly recognised enigmatic Jack Armour.

  ‘Don’t look so worried.’ He brushed her hair back from her face carefully. ‘There is no easy way to do this. But I promise—I promise—I won’t leave you unsatisfied.’

  She was bewildered. ‘Wh-what?’

  There was a sudden sharp pain and she realised what he was talking about. She gasped. Her shocked pulses went into overdrive.

  It was utterly strange, utterly new. At the same time it was so familiar that, deep under the clamour of her pulses, her blood knew she had come home. Holly soared, crying out in amazement.

  ‘Yes,’ said Jack.

  And stopped being gentle.

  Holly came awake with a jump. She had been dreaming and cobwebs of the nightmare still clung to her. Brendan had caught up with her, and although she had tried to run she had been staked to the spot somehow. The police had been raking her with a spotlight…

  Her eyes focused. Why was the light on? Why were there so many lights? Come to that, where was she?

  She tried to move and found she was pinned down, in truth. Panic flared momentarily. But then she turned her head and remembered.

  Jack had collapsed into a deep, deep sleep. One arm was flung over her possessively. His bare shoulders were smooth and golden.

  Holly ran a wondering hand over the compact flesh. Closing her eyes, she inhaled dreamily.

  My husband. Who would have thought it?

  He stirred, muttering, but did not wake. Well, of course not. He had been travelling for the best part of twenty-four hours even before the wedding. Holly felt a great surge of tenderness. Carefully, so as not to wake him, she reached out and snapped off the lights. Then she eased the sheet from under their bodies and pulled it over them.

  At last, greatly daring, she lifted his head and cradled it to her breast. He murmured something—maybe her name?—and perhaps he kissed her breast. Holly smiled and stroked his hair a little, warm in the friendly dark. Then she, too, fell asleep. This time there were no nightmares.

  In the morning she awoke slowly. This time she knew exactly where she was. The doors to the cabin verandah were open and the sun streamed in, outlining the dark shadow of the man standing out there, silently watching the distant sea.

  Holly struggled up on one elbow, shading her eyes.

  ‘Jack?’

  He came into the little room. He was fully dressed in chinos and a green bush shirt. He brought the smell of the sea with him and the cool air of the morning.

  ‘Oh, you’re awake, are you?’ His face was in shadow but his voice sounded strained.

  Something about it made her say, ‘Is anything wrong?’

  ‘No. But we haven’t got a lot of time if you’re going to have breakfast and still make the Miami flight.’

  She said slowly, ‘If I’m going to have breakfast?’

  ‘I’ve eaten,’ he said curtly. ‘I woke at dawn. I always do. I went across to the hotel and had something and then got on with my work.’

  Why should that be hurtful? Yet it was.

  Holly said, ‘I’m sorry…’ before she realised she did not know what she was apologising for.

  Jack got even brisker, if possible. ‘No reason. You needed your sleep. But I think you should be moving soon.’

  Not a kiss, not a touch, and yards of polished parquet flooring between them. All that care for her last night. All that tenderness…And now it seemed as if he would hardly look at her. What had happened?

  She shook her head, bewildered. ‘Why?’

  ‘I told you. The plane.’

  Did he misunderstand her deliberately? Of course, she had never had a lover before. Maybe this was what every man was like the morning after. Maybe he was embarrassed by the passion he had shown her last night. Maybe—and this was a lot worse to face—he was embarrassed by the passion she had shown.

  Holly snatched the cotton sheet up to her throat.

  ‘I’ll get up now,’ she said in a strangled voice.

  He seemed to hesitate. Or was that her imagination? It did not matter because almost at once he nodded.

  ‘I’ll see you on the breakfast terrace.’

  She scrambled out of bed, winding the sheet round her so tight she hobbled herself. It was crazy. He had looked at every inch of her last night. But now she was wrapping herself up like a mummy in case he caught a glimpse of breast or thigh and was offended.

  Jack turned away abruptly.

  Holly felt as if she had been winded. So she did offend him. She writhed mentally. If only she had more experience. If only she had known what he expected last night…

  One hand on the door jamb, Jack looked over his shoulder.

  Holly did not know it but she was standing in a beam of sunlight which struck rainbow lights from her tumbled hair. The muscle in Jack’s jaw locked.

  ‘Hol—’

  Her drooping head lifted. ‘Yes?’

  He said with constraint, ‘Do you think you could pack before you come over for breakfast?’

  She stared at him as if she did not recognise him. ‘Wh-what? Why?’

  ‘So I can send over for the bags while you eat. Then we can go straight to the airport.’

  ‘Airport? You’re getting rid of me so soon?’

  She thought his face twisted. But he looked away at once and she realised she must be wrong.

  ‘Of course not.’ He was brisk again. ‘Damn it, I knew we should have talked last night.

  There was a moment’s disbelieving silence.

  Then—‘Talked?’ She could not help herself. All her hurt, all her bewilderment were in her voice.

  ‘It would have been more sensible than what we did do,’ said Jack, suddenly savage.

  Holly’s whole body flinched from the cruelty of it. But he was looking out across the hibiscus bushes and did not see.

  He went on, ‘But we can’t do anything about that now. We have to think of what’s best for you. I gather you haven’t made any plans?’

  Holly shook her head. She was having difficulty in adjusting to this new Jack. Or rather not a new Jack. This was the old Jack, cool as an arctic breeze and with roughly the same effect.

  ‘Was I supposed to make plans?’ she said, distracted. ‘I didn’t realise…I’m sorry.’

  ‘No sweat. If you’d planned something, then I wouldn’t want you to change it.’

  Wouldn’t you? Why wouldn’t you? She did not quite have the courage to say it aloud.

  After all, maybe making love as they had last night was no big deal for him. Maybe he had made love to hundreds of women like that.

  She swallowed. ‘What do you suggest?’

  ‘I’ve got to go back to Ignaz. You could come alon
g. We could use an extra pair of hands. Do you speak Spanish?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then you’ll be useful.’

  Oh, yes, that was the old Jack all right, logical and realistic. Holly could have wept. Her chin came up.

  ‘It sounds a good practical plan,’ she said quietly. ‘Give me ten minutes.’

  The hotel was famous for its breakfasts: fresh mango and pineapple and guava, served with home made rolls and wonderful fragrant coffee. Holly looked at the food as if it would choke her and barely touched the coffee.

  ‘Hangover?’ said Jack, not without sympathy. He poured water for her from a jug steaming with ice. ‘The local rum punch is lethal. I should have warned you.’

  She looked up quickly. ‘Is that what’s wrong?’

  She looked very young in her cotton T-shirt, her hair in its curly fronded plait again. Jack looked away painfully.

  ‘Wrong?’

  She looked at him very directly. Her eyes were very dark this morning, no trace of last night’s golden green.

  ‘I’ve done something wrong,’ she said bravely. ‘Just tell me. What is it?’

  He did not pretend to misunderstand her this time. ‘Not you, Holly. Me.’

  ‘What? I don’t understand.’

  ‘I know you don’t. That’s what makes it so unforgivable.’

  She did not understand him.

  ‘Do you regret last night, then?’

  A muscle leaped in Jack’s jaw. ‘It is not a question of regret,’ he said curtly. ‘I broke the agreement.’

  And Paula Vincent had said he always kept his word. Holly began to see what might be the matter.

  ‘I wanted you to break it,’ she reminded him softly.

  The slanting eyes were black. It almost looked as if he was in pain.

  ‘You were not thinking straight. And I knew it. I just chose to ignore it.’

  ‘Does thinking matter? About that?’

  ‘When you’re older,’ said Jack deliberately, ‘you’ll find that thinking is essential. Particularly about that.’

  Holly winced. But she was brave enough. She had had to be and now, if ever, was the time to face up to what she had done.

  ‘And if I told you I don’t regret it?’

  For a moment his eyes seemed to soften. Then he shook his head.

  ‘It makes no difference. Sex wasn’t part of the deal.’