Romancing the Soul

by Sarah Tranter

  He closed his eyes and lowered his forehead to hers again. Please God, let these fears be irrational.

  ‘I’m not happy with bodyguards, you know that, but if it will help you here, we’ll sort something. Would that help?’

  He moved back to stare into her eyes. She meant it. And relief immediately overtook his body. So much relief. He didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve her.

  ‘The things I do for you,’ she murmured as he pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

  ‘Thank you. Thank you,’ he said, as he buried his head in her hair. ‘And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m going to work on things, okay?’

  ‘Damned right you are. I’ll help you with that because I cannot believe what I just agreed to.’

  ‘I love you,’ he whispered.

  ‘So you should. I love you too, evidently more than is healthy. There is a condition though. That you now stop acting like a caveman and keep your troupe of Neanderthals under control.’

  ‘You think I’m a caveman?’ he murmured, moving back so their eyes locked.

  She moistened her lower lip, holding his gaze. ‘No. Yes. Today, yes. You aren’t worrying at this precise moment in time, are you?’

  And he couldn’t help the grin. They were so attune.

  ‘Put me down!’ she shrieked as George picked her up and flung her – albeit gently, and really less of a fling than a gentle placement because she was still bruised – over his shoulder.

  ‘I’m giving you caveman here,’ he said, walking up the stairs. ‘Although this Neanderthal apologises profusely for things getting out of hand today and is beyond grateful for your understanding and forgiveness and I promise to get a grip. We will talk and reach a compromise, but not when you’re standing on your feet. And I’d like very much to show you how badly I’ve missed you today. Being out of contact has been hell … Please?’

  He was met with silence. Bugger. Had he more apologising to do?

  ‘Will you fling me on the bed, rip off your clothes and uncontrollably ravage me?’

  George groaned. If he could make it up the stairs this time. But he had to. Because it would be gentle lowering, sooo gentle, rather than flinging; she was still recovering from Saturday.

  Not that he was sure he ever would.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Susie stood before the mirror not believing what she was seeing. How had they managed to make her a dress that …? It was a miracle. An optical illusion. She didn’t know how they had possibly managed to do it. She looked … She looked … God her boobs looked amazing, her stomach ‘looked’ flat, her waist small and … turning around for a moment just to triple check … her bum didn’t look humongous. They were geniuses. And the colour, a stunning deep grey with an almost metallic, silvery sheen, but with an underlying … something; it didn’t look grey, despite being grey. In fact: it was stunning.

  ‘It had to be that colour,’ he said.

  She moved her eyes so she could see George in the mirror. He was leaning against the door frame, watching her intently. He was in his formal tux, bow tie hanging loose and untied around his neck; the top few buttons of his shirt undone. His dark hair was ruffled in that way she loved. He was … breathtaking. And for now: he was hers.

  ‘Susie …’ His eyes almost glowed and they transfixed her. ‘You are … You look stunning, but that word – no word – could do you justice.’ He shook his head. ‘The dress, the colour … It’s exactly that of your eyes as they look at me, while your lips are swollen, your cheeks blushed, your hair mussed and …’ He cursed before breaking off and crossing the room in a couple of strides.

  Now standing behind her, he pulled her back against him, the length of his body pressing tightly against hers. She leant her head back to rest on his chest. How could he make her feel like this? She continued to hold his eyes in the glass.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Thank you for being by my side. Thank you for agreeing to marry me. Thank you for making me the happiest man the world has ever seen. I love you. I will always love you.’

  And that look … The sincerity, the depth … Susie could feel the tears welling. ‘Don’t get all soppy on me,’ she said, her voice full of emotion. ‘You’re going to make me ruin my make-up.’

  She turned around in his arms to clutch his shirt and to bury her now wet face in his chest. ‘I love you too. If I managed to explain how much you’d realise just how nuts I am. And it’s me that should be thanking you. Oh God, I’ve got to stop crying. I’m so sorry! I’ve got mascara all over your shirt! And I can feel my eyes going all red and blotchy and puffy and—’

  He kissed the top of her head, holding her tightly. He chuckled in that way that reverberated through her whole being. ‘So now isn’t the time to get down on one knee and give you your engagement ring?’

  He had the ring? Oh God she was seriously going to lose it here. ‘George!’ she wept, clutching his shirt tighter and shaking her head profusely.

  ‘We can hold the ring,’ he said gently, stroking the small of her back. Lowering his head, he rumbled into her ear, ‘But don’t deny me the chance to go down on one knee. There’s something I want to do down there.’

  Susie’s tears seemed to freeze in their tracks. No! He wouldn’t? Not when she’d spent hours getting ready and …

  But her body was singing ecstatically and her temperature rising alarmingly. And then there was all that tingling …

  She slowly removed her face from his chest to meet his eyes: dark, intent and … that glint. Coupled with that grin … Oh God, he would and she was wanton mush.

  Her head managed to secure a moment’s airtime. ‘But we can’t! I’d have to re-do my make-up and …’

  While she’d been talking, he’d been inching up the skirt of her full-length dress and …

  Her head wasn’t meant to be used around George anyway.

  There was something to be said for the natural look, Susie conceded as she stared, stunned, at the morning newspapers before her. She couldn’t comprehend that the person in the pictures was her.

  She’d gone with her hair loose and tussled (having spent three hours in the hairdressers getting it put up); her lips cherry-red and swollen (who needed a Paris Lip, George had quipped, unashamedly); her cheeks naturally blushed rose-pink … And her eyes! They were the exact same colour as her dress. The only make-up she’d worn was a smidgen of eyeliner and some mascara … and, okay, the odd spot of concealer.

  Who needed make-up and hairdressers with George around? He made her feel so beautiful and cherished and … loved.

  And George … She couldn’t help but focus on George in the images. He looked as heart-stoppingly beautiful as ever. Oh, she loved him so much. He looked happy and … proud. Proud to have her at his side. How did this happen? And how perfect did the man get?

  Yes, that day he’d unleashed Tom, Dick and Harry on her, had been … difficult. Okay, it had been more than difficult. But they’d reached a compromise of sorts. He had been acting out of worry, she could see that now. Irrational worry, but worry nonetheless. And she knew how powerful fears could be. Not that hers were irrational, of course. Hers felt way too real for that. Hammering on a few more securing batons to that box in her head, she forced herself to refocus. And if she was truly honest, she would have been as furious as George had roles been reversed; had she been in his shoes. Furious and worried, too. She wasn’t sure what she’d have done, perhaps not something far off his actions if she’d had those options before her. But the fact was: in the here and now, he cared. Deeply cared. Loved her. Was proud of her. Thought she was beautiful. Her, Susie Morris!

  And that made George Silbury pretty much too good to be true.

  George hung up the phone with a series of curses and started making his way to the kitchen. He paused in the doorway, the frown
leaving his face as he took in Susie, sat at the table in his shirt. She had her own clothes here, yet she was in his shirt and on a primal level that more than worked. She was his. The beautiful, gorgeous, stunning, sexy, witty, highly intelligent, argumentative … sometimes infuriating woman before him – was his. And he couldn’t wait to get his ring on her finger. Perhaps he’d have another attempt at that tonight?

  He refused to dwell on the conversation he’d just had with Michael. He’d sort it.

  ‘Good morning, sleepy-head,’ he swooped down to give her a quick good morning kiss, but had trouble pulling away. Her taste … Addictive. Taking a deep breath he forced himself to move back. Grinning, he nodded towards the papers before her. ‘Believe me, now?’

  He took himself over to the coffee machine and pressed the button to prepare them both a mug. Susie had evidently not got that far. Returning to the table, he pulled a chair up to sit beside her. That wasn’t good enough. He pulled her over from her own chair to sit on his lap, where he wrapped her in his arms.

  She still hadn’t said anything and his grin broadened at her expression. There was no way she couldn’t see how beautiful she was now.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  ‘Whatever for?’

  ‘For last night. For making me feel beautiful. For having me. For letting me have you. I love you so much, George, although it feels so much more than that.’

  ‘Do you have any idea how much I like hearing those words,’ he buried his face in her neck. They got to him so deep. She was his. He was hers. End of.

  And, dear God, let them live happily ever after.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and he wallowed in the feeling.

  ‘The living room appears to be full of bouquets of flowers, for me,’ Susie said, sounding confused.

  George knew. And none were from him. He should have filled the whole damned house up with bouquets from him! ‘I apologise they aren’t from me, but I will make it up to you.’

  ‘Who are they from?’ She nestled into his neck.

  ‘An army of admirers, no doubt.’ He fully intended to find out exactly who made up that army and read every last card. Unfortunately, Michael had distracted him from that very task this morning. Attempting to sound casual, he said, ‘There’s sure to be a fair number from dress designers, too, who can’t wait to get you into their frocks.’

  ‘This is all beyond bizarre, George,’ she said, shaking her head.

  ‘And that from the girl who has yet to look out the window this morning.’ He immediately winced at his words.

  She went to stand up and he pulled her back down, shaking his head. ‘You’re not going to the window unless you want to be photographed looking X-rated in my shirt. And even if you wanted to be, I won’t let you. I do not want every Tom, Dick and—’

  He stopped himself and she met his pursed lips with a smirk. ‘It’s your own fault, you know. Where are they, by the way?’

  ‘At the bottom of the front steps keeping the hordes away from the door.’ Today there was no question their employment was rational.

  ‘Well at least they are out of my hair,’ she muttered.

  George stroked her back and kissed the top of her head. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘The things I do for you, George.’

  ‘I know.’ He just wished she’d make their assignment easier. She’d allowed their presence on the basis they stayed ‘the hell’ out of her way. And he’d leapt at the compromise. But according to Tom, she’d made squeezing past people and through the smallest of gaps on the bus to and from school, an art form. They couldn’t casually follow, so they would spend their journey at opposite ends of the bus to her. But it was better than nothing; far better than nothing. It meant they were there if, God forbid, they were needed.

  ‘Is it that bad out there?’

  ‘Mmmm.’ He tightened his hold around her as he thought of the fifty or so people armed with cameras and that wasn’t counting the television crews. ‘But I promise it’ll die down. Last night and today were always going to be the worst. You were fantastic, Susie. I was – am – so proud of you.’

  ‘And me you. Your film was brilliant George. You were brilliant.’

  He’d not watched any of it. He’d spent the entire time absorbed in the sensation of Susie being at his side, being able to finally cry from the rooftops. But her opinion mattered more than anyone else’s. ‘Thank you. That means a lot. I believe there’s enough of me out there for a while though. I called Michael earlier and told him about cutting things down a bit. In fact, I’ve asked him to clear the next twelve months or so. Once this one is out of the way, I’m taking that holiday.’

  Susie leaned back to look at him. ‘You mustn’t—’

  ‘I want to, sweetheart.’ He pulled her closer again. ‘You know how much. We talked about this. I’m not prepared to spend so much time in the States.’

  She hugged him tightly. ‘The idea of you being away is … horrid.’

  He’d second that. Since they’d got their act together, they’d not spent a night apart. And that suited him down to a tee. ‘Future projects will definitely be close to home.’ He grinned. ‘Just imagine … if you play your cards right during my sabbatical, my mushroom risotto could be on the table for when you get home from work.’

  She gave him her adorable knowing look and the depth of heat in those eyes. ‘If I play my cards right?’

  Oh yeah. And he knew she was remembering, as was he, the game of cards they’d played a few nights ago … and the forfeits. ‘You and I are clearly on the same wavelength, I’m pleased to see.’ And they were. And not just in bed. Which he could really do with not thinking about at this precise moment. She’d added to her eyes, the drawing of small circles over his chest and … He shifted her slightly on his lap. Whether it was that profound connection they shared or simply that they were meant to be, he didn’t know. But every second with Susie was a joy. Even if they were talking crap, or he was being told off for leaving the toilet seat up again, or for not wiping the basin out after shaving. She was exhilarating and being with her resulted in a higher high than he could have ever imagined. Nothing compared to it. It was just … right. Oh, they could disagree. And yeah, he could bollocks things up when his fears screamed at him. He instinctively tightened his hold around her. But what they had, what they shared … As things stood, it went so deep he couldn’t imagine them parting … willingly. He closed his eyes, ignoring the shudder in his spine, and imagined a dose of rationality flooding his system. He reopened them and grinned. ‘And I rather think our honeymoon is going to have to be in the summer holidays. Two weeks would never be enough.’

  And dare he? He wasn’t sure there was ever going to be a right moment to ask this. But he wanted it so much. He took a deep breath. He wanted the world to know. ‘If you’re happy with the idea – and only if you are – can I get Michael to announce something on the engagement? I’ve asked him to get something drafted … but only just in case. Only if you are …’

  Her grin provided the answer and he let out an elated laugh.

  ‘We’ll have to tell my dad and my brothers first though.’

  ‘Does that mean I finally get to meet them?’

  Susie’s grin broadened. ‘We’ll have to see what we can arrange. They will no doubt give you the Spanish Inquisition though, particularly my brothers. Dad is simply happy because he considers you might possibly love me.’

  ‘I wonder what makes him think that?’

  Susie reached up and planted a kiss on his cheek.

  ‘With your brothers, I’ve got a plan. Josh, I’ll talk cars with. Not a hardship; as you know, if I couldn’t act, I wanted to do just what he’s doing and be a mechanic. Craig, whose got a soft spot for my last female lead, I’ll arrange an introduction!’

  Susie laughed. ‘That’s br
ibery.’

  ‘Call it what you like, sweetheart, but I’ll do pretty much anything to get them on board.’

  ‘Porsche’s not going to be happy,’ Susie mused and he felt her tense in his arms.

  ‘She can go to hell! And now we’re sort of public, how about you bring your class along to the set for a day trip? I can give them a walk around and I’m sure wardrobe would let them try on some clothes. Aren’t you teaching them about the Georgian and Regency periods at the moment? They can even have a spot behind the camera if they want and can have a go at the clapper board and sit in the director’s chair and … Hey,’ he said, breaking off, concerned at the suspicious glistening of her eyes. ‘Baby …?’

  ‘Don’t ever leave me. Please.’

  ‘Never, ever, ever,’ he vowed, wrapping his arms around her tightly. Into her hair he said, ‘And one day very soon, you will believe me when I tell you that; no matter what your best friend managed to do to you a decade ago.’

  Wrapped in each other’s arms, it was Susie that finally broke the silence. ‘I should get dressed.’ She started up with her circling fingers again. ‘I was thinking of taking a bath first though and wondered if you’d care to …’

  George was abruptly snapped out of the very, very wonderful place he was at, as a po-faced Harry walked into the kitchen and deposited a manila A4 envelope on the table, before returning to the fray.

  George forced himself to breathe, his lungs seemingly reluctant to take in air. He gave Susie a kiss on the head and attempted to sound normal, utilising his professional skills to the full. ‘You pop up and run the water … I’ll join you in a few minutes.’

  Susie frowned. And there was no wonder. It didn’t matter that he was an Oscar-winning actor. She’d always see through him. She studied him closely before glancing at the envelope and back to him. He went for an innocent look. ‘Go on,’ he said, easing her up from his lap and giving her a tap on the bottom. ‘I won’t be long.’