The Best Man's Bride

by Anne McAllister

  “Ooh! I wanta do that,” Katja said, eying her brothers enviously.

  Celina, imagining Anna’s reaction, started to say something discouraging. But Jack plucked the little girl up and set her on her feet on top of the wall where she looked down at them, her eyes wide.

  “Jack!” There was just so much suppression of her inner-Anna Celina could manage.

  “I’ve got her,” he said calmly, and as Katja began to balance her way along the way, Celina could see that Jack had kept hold of one of her hands.

  “I’m doing it!” Katja crowed. “See, Celina?”

  Celina let out a breath. “I see, Katja.”

  “She’s got courage,” Jack said approvingly. “She faces the tough stuff, don’t you, Katja?”

  Was there a challenge in there? And one aimed not at Katja but her? Celina thought she heard one.

  The little girl bobbed her head and carefully put one foot in front of the other, all the while gripping Jack’s hand.

  When she’d walked to where her brothers were waiting, Jack let her jump into his arms, then set her on the ground. “Run back and climb over the stile now,” he told her.

  When they were all on the other side of the wall and walking along a stream, Celina took one of Katja’s hands again, Jack took the other, and they swung her along between them.

  Once more Celina felt the bubbles, more now, fizzing like a magnum of champagne inside her.

  Jack was right about the boys. Once they’d run off the edges, Mads and Casper settled down and walked with them, peppering Jack with questions. There were stories to be told about medieval knights and Roman soldiers, about standing stones that had stood nearby for thousands of years and ammunition kept in WWII-era depots in derelict mines and limestone caves. Celina listened as attentively as the boys as Jack recounted local history.

  “How do you know all that?” she demanded while the boys were examining saplings for their bow and arrow potential.

  “Simon gave me a rundown while I was printing out the maps. He’s a local history buff.”

  It turned out that the earl had provided a couple of head lamps, too. So after another half hour, when they made it to the caves, Jack took all three kids in while Celina spread out the picnic blanket and the lunch the kitchen staff had provided.

  “You sure?” Jack asked. “We could all go in.”

  But Celina waved them on. “No, thanks. When you come back everything will be ready to eat.”

  She had no desire to visit the caves at all. Too claustrophobic, thank you very much. But she knew better than to share her squeamishness with the kids. So she spread out the picnic blanket and divvied up the sandwiches and fruit and crisps while from the entrance to the cave she could hear the echoey sounds of the kids’ high voices and Jack’s lower one.

  She had everything laid out and sat down to lean against a tree trunk when they finally came out. The boys fell on their food as if they hadn’t eaten in weeks, chattering madly about the remains of the WWII ammo depot they’d found. That brought out a number of World War II stories about Jack’s grandfather, too, where he’d climbed cliffs and got shot at. The boys were rapt.

  And when he told them about his own climbing experiences in Montana and a couple of climbs he’d done with Dex, their eyes shone.

  Celina, smiling, settled back and listened. Katja carried her sandwich over and crawled into Celina’s lap. Instinctively Celina shifted to accommodate the little girl and wrapped her arms around her. If Celina bent her head, she could smell the soft flower scent of the little girl’s shampoo and press her nose into the sun-warmed honey-colored hair.

  Over the top of her head she caught Jack’s gaze on her. She smiled at him a little tentatively and was rewarded by a look that melted her into a puddle. She made a soft involuntary sound and Katja tipped her head to look into Celina’s face.

  “What?” the little girl asked, looking perplexed.

  Celina gave her a gentle squeeze. “Nothing,” she said softly. “Just happy you’re here.” And she kissed the tip of Katja’s nose.

  “Me, too.” Katja lay her head against Celina’s breasts and Celina wrapped her arms around her, relishing the weight of the small body on her lap. Within minutes the little girl was asleep.

  The boys were still raring to go.

  “Let me take them down one of the other caves,” Jack said. “Maybe she’ll be awake by the time we get back. Okay?”

  “Fine with me.”

  “You okay?” Jack looked at her, concerned.

  Celina lifted her gaze to meet his. “Never better,” she told him. And she meant it.

  They were back in half an hour. Katja was still sound asleep.

  “We should head back,” Jack said.

  “But we haven’t seen Mad Harry’s Folly!” Mads protested.

  “I wanta see the folly!” Casper cried.

  “Another time,” Jack said firmly.

  “When?” Mads pressed with the determination of a boy who knew vagueness wasn’t his friend.

  Jack’s mouth twisted. “When we can.”

  “You got to go adventuring,” Celina reminded both boys when they looked disgruntled. “You might well have been at the stuffy luncheon.”

  “Yeah.” Mads scuffed his toe.

  “So be grateful for what you’ve been able to do. And now that Uncle Jonas is marrying Hope, you’ll be able to come back and visit the area. I bet the next time you come you can go see the folly.”

  “Come on,” Jack said. “Let’s gather up the stuff and I’ll tell you about some caves on the ranch where I grew up.”

  “Did they have ammo depots?” Casper wanted to know.

  Jack shook his head. “No.”

  But the stories he told about exploring them when he was a boy and his grandfather had taken him down in them kept the boys silent and attentive as they stowed the picnic stuff back in the rucksack. And before they left, he trimmed two branches and made each boy a walking staff.

  “Because you’re good hikers,” he told them, handing them the sheaf of maps as well. “You should have something to remember the day by.”

  Both boys beamed and thanked him. Mads tucked the maps into the rucksack and closed it. Then Jack said, “Can you carry it?”

  Mads’s back straightened sharply. He nodded. “Of course.” He tucked his own small pack inside the larger one when Jack opened it, then zipped it shut again and settled the pack on Mads’s narrow shoulders.

  Jack ruffled his hair. “Good lad.”

  Then he came over and gently lifted Katja out of Celina’s arms. She didn’t wake, just curved into his chest and put her head on his shoulder. Then he reached out his other hand to Celina. Wordlessly she put hers in his and he pulled her to her feet.

  “Let’s go,” he said to the boys, nodding so they’d start down the path first. Jack fell in behind them with Celina beside him. He kept her fingers wrapped in his the whole way down. He never let go.

  “There you are!” Nico was standing in the drive flirting with one of the local kitchen girls when they came up the lane to the house. He grinned and came walking toward them. “About time!”

  “Anna wasn’t worried, was she?” Celina asked. They hadn’t said what time they would be back and it was just past five.

  Nico rolled his eyes. “Wouldn’t know. Wouldn’t care. Doesn’t matter.” His gaze slid from Celina to Jack. “Dex is here,” Nico told him. “He’s waiting for you.”

  Jack nodded. “Okay. I’ll find him.”

  “He’s in the house,” Nico said. “Follow the giggles and squeals.” His brow furrowed. “What is it with you band guys pulling all the women?”

  “Natural charm, obviously.” Jack grinned easily.

  Celina wasn’t smiling. She liked Dex Carpenter, South Face’s bass guitarist. He was moody and mercurial and the only thing predictable about Dex was that you usually couldn’t predict what he’d do next. But in this case she didn’t see him thinking that Jack quitting the band was a
good idea. And Dex’s opinion carried a lot of weight with Jack. The two of them had co-founded South Face, then recruited Mark and Peter.

  “Is he here to talk you out of quitting?” she asked.

  Nico had herded the children back toward the house leaving Jack and Celina standing in the drive staring at each other.

  “He doesn’t know I’m quitting. Not yet. I’m sure he’s here for the wedding.”

  “Two days early?”

  “He probably wants to talk about the tour. You know Dex. He’s a perfectionist.”

  “He’s not going to be happy,” Celina predicted.

  “It’ll be fine,” Jack said firmly. “I’ll go talk to him now.”

  “The girls won’t know what hit them with both of you there,” Celina said dryly.

  “I’m not interested and you know that.” Jack’s gaze was stern. So was his tone. “You do know that, right?”

  “I know that,” Celina said after a moment. She went up on her toes to kiss his jaw, but Jack, anticipating, turned his head and met her mouth with his. It was a longer kiss than Celina had intended, a hungry kiss that left her no doubt about what he wished they were going to be doing. And it wasn’t talking to Dex.

  “I’ll be up in your room in half an hour,” Jack promised raggedly. His breathing was heavy, his eyes a little bit glazed.

  “I’ll be waiting,” Celina told him with a happy, impish smile.

  She went up to her room, humming. After taking a quick shower, she dried her hair and dressed in one of her “casual professional” outfits – a tailored skirt and blouse – because no matter what they wanted to do as soon as he got here, what they’d end up doing would be to go to dinner with the other guests of Jonas and his family.

  There would be time later for the two of them. A whole night.

  Many nights. And days. Months. Years.

  She sat down by the window and waited.

  And waited.

  Chapter Ten

  “Goodness, I didn’t expect to see you!” Maggie beamed at Celina the next morning when she arrived at the dowager’s room at precisely eight o’clock. “Sleepless night, was it?” She peered more closely at Celina’s pale face and bloodshot eyes. “You didn’t need to rush off,” Maggie admonished her, still smiling. “I’d have understood.”

  Understood that she had been with Jack. That was the subtext, at least.

  No doubt the dowager had seen the kiss she and Jack had shared on the drive right before he’d gone to find Dex. No doubt she’d believed it was a prelude to a sleepless night of mad passionate makeup sex.

  The night had been sleepless, true enough. But not for the reason Maggie seemed to think. There had been no mad, passionate lovemaking. No to-die-for kisses. No whisker burn.

  No Jack at all, thank you very much.

  Celina was gutted. Hollow. Disbelieving.

  And yet ...

  Somehow it made awful sense. It was so Jack. It was, as her grandmother would have said, “Just the way he is, dear.”

  Jack flung himself into whatever was in front of him. When he’d found her here, she had been what was in front of him. Unfinished business he hadn’t cared enough about to finish until she was right in front of him. And, let’s face it, they’d always been hot for each other. So he’d wanted her and he’d set out to get her.

  And he’d got her. Hook, line and sinker, he’d made her his again. She’d trusted. She’d believed. She’d hoped.

  Then Dex had showed up. All he represented – South Face, touring, music, fame, fortune – had come front and center again.

  And Jack hadn’t been able to resist.

  At some point in the middle of the night, it had begun to rain. At first it had been a soft quintessentially English rain that barely tapped on the windowpanes. But on toward morning, it had picked up and the rain had come pelting down, pinging like pebbles against the glass. By the time the sun should have been up, the sky was a mass of low dark clouds that suited Celina’s mood perfectly.

  She was glad she hadn’t eaten dinner. She was sure she would have been sick.

  She took another shower shortly after six, though she certainly didn’t need one. She hadn’t done anything except wait since she’d had the last one. But she was in the habit of taking a morning shower.

  She needed the refuge of habit right now. It was the only thing that was going to see her through.

  Now she smiled wanly at Maggie and tried to raise her game. “The rain kept me up a bit,” she agreed.

  “The rain?” Maggie raised her brows. Then she shook her head. “Whatever you say, dear.”

  “What do you want to start with this morning?” Celina made herself focus on the work at hand. “Correspondence?”

  “We could start with me telling you how boring that luncheon was,” the dowager said in a long-suffering tone. “I trust your afternoon was better.”

  It had been wonderful. Then. Now Celina wasn’t sure what to say. “We had a good time,” she finally answered. “The boys enjoyed it just like you said they would.”

  “Of course.” Maggie knew that. “And I presume you enjoyed it, too.”

  Celina nodded wordlessly. She wasn’t going to talk about it. Couldn’t talk about it. Not the way the night had ended.

  “You’re not going to give me a scrap, are you?” Maggie tsked and shook her head. “Well, fine. Keep your secrets. Just tell me when I need to find a new personal assistant,” she said pointedly. “Now, let’s get on with the correspondence then.”

  It was a good thing that Maggie corresponded with half the Western cultural world and a good part of the rest of it, too, as far as Celina was concerned. It meant that even in the age of email and instant messaging and texting, she still kept up a letter exchange with a huge number of people. And that meant there were always letters that needed answering, and that meant Celina had something to concentrate on this morning that wasn’t Jack.

  She couldn’t think about Jack.

  Two of the girls on the staff brought in breakfast about fifteen minutes after Celina had arrived. They’d looked around hopefully as if they might find Jack standing behind a door, but when they didn’t, they laid out a plate of pastries and bowls of fruit and yogurt on the table along with a pot of coffee and another of tea.

  “I asked for continental today,” Maggie said. “I expected to be alone. But at least they’ve brought enough for both of us.”

  They’d brought enough for three at least, especially if one of them was a hungry lead guitarist. There was going to be plenty left over because Celina thought she might gag if she had to eat anything even now.

  She did accept a cup of tea when the dowager passed it to her, though she declined anything else.

  “I don’t like to eat alone,” Maggie said, giving her an arch look over the tops of her spectacles. “It’s not polite to make me.”

  Ah, protocol. “Anna must be getting to you,” Celina said, dutifully selecting a croissant and putting it on a small plate. She didn’t bring it to her lips, however.

  “Anna is a trial,” Maggie agreed. “But at least we got the boys a bit of freedom yesterday. Today she can do what she likes with them. Maybe she’ll let them go over to play with Max’s son. It would be good for them.”

  “Yes.” Celina sipped her tea.

  “You’re not eating.”

  Celina sighed. She nibbled. “First letter?” she said hopefully, looking at the stack of correspondence on the dowager’s desk.

  Maggie sighed. “Very well. Slave driver,” she muttered. But she picked up a letter and began to read it. “We’ll answer this one first.”

  They were on their third letter with eight or nine more to go, and Celina was successfully holding most thoughts of Jack at bay, when there was a light tap on Maggie’s door.

  The dowager lifted her head from the letter she was scanning. “Come.”

  The door opened and Fredrik stuck his head in and gave a quick look around before focusing on the dowager. “The
boys aren’t here, are they?”

  “Mads and Casper? No. I haven’t seen them. Though I hope they will come tell me about their hiking adventure yesterday since some people –” she directed an arch look in Celina’s direction “– haven’t said a word.”

  Fredrik’s gaze went to Celina as well. “Have you seen them?”

  She shook her head. “Not since our hike yesterday. Why? Can’t you find them?”

  “I haven’t looked,” Fredrik said. “Their mother is looking for them. I said I’d ask around.”

  “No wonder they’re hiding,” Maggie said with asperity. “Boys will be boys, and there are a thousand places in a manor house to go if you don’t want to be found. I knew that,” she added, “and I was ‘just a girl’ as my father always said.” She sighed at the memory, then looked out at the still-falling rain. “Perfect day to do it. No doubt they had a taste of freedom yesterday and are avoiding their mother.”

  Fredrik’s lips quirked. “You could be right about that,” he murmured.

  “Indeed,” the dowager said with considerable satisfaction. “All my fault, then.”

  “I’ll help you look for them,” Celina offered, getting to her feet.

  Fredrik hesitated, but then said, “That would be a help, if you can spare the time. I told Princess Anna I’d have a look for them. I’ve got a couple of the bodyguards looking as well. But I don’t want to alarm anyone by turning it into a full-scale search mission. It’s not. And the princess would not be happy.”

  “Of course not.” Celina glanced at Maggie. “Do you mind?” she asked because, of course, if the dowager said no, she wouldn’t do it.

  But Maggie nodded. “Look,” she said. “But take your time. And if you find them,” she said to both Celina and Fredrik, “give them some leeway before you send them back to Anna.”

  Celina picked up her raincoat, but left everything else with Maggie. No point in lugging it all around the manor house. She probably wouldn’t even need the raincoat, but if Fredrik wanted her to check the stable or any of the other outbuildings, she might.