I Only Want To Be With You

by Lisa Norato

  “I’m all yours, Darcey.”

  Darcey beamed. “Fabulous!”

  *

  Church bells rang through Rousham Park as guests of the Swann wedding arrived in carloads to mix, mingle, and celebrate.

  The extensive gardens, designed by William Kent in the early eighteenth century, remained unspoiled by time. “One of the few gardens of this date to have escaped alteration,” Marcella read off the brochure she’d snatched from the manor house upon exiting the ladies’ room.

  The setting included a walled garden with herbaceous borders to wander through; Venus, cupids and various other statues to lend ambiance; shade trees to relax beneath; and cozy gathering spots on terraces or by fountains.

  Just outside the marquee — a reception tent large enough to accommodate table seating for over two hundred and draped in herbs and greenery — the wedding party lined up to receive their guests.

  William, ever so tall and resplendent in frock coat and top hat, winked at her from the end of the line, his smile as intoxicating as that first sip of a full-bodied, but slightly sweet cabernet sauvignon on a Friday night after a long workweek. A tingle of warmth seeped through her veins.

  Marcella smiled giddily and wiggled her fingers back at him. She folded the brochure and tucked it inside her organizer, excited and full of anticipation at the knowledge William was waiting for her.

  She extended her hand to the first in line, an elderly woman in salmon pink and a coordinating shade of lipstick. Beside her, the woman’s husband introduced them both as Henry’s parents. They accepted Marcella’s congratulations, and when Marcella explained her relationship to Lynne, the senior Mr. Swann joked about how Marcella’s losing a boss now meant Henry was gaining one. His wife swatted his arm.

  Marcella was still grinning when she moved on to kiss the thin, fragile cheek of Lynne’s mother and compliment her embroidered silver suit.

  Feeling Lynne’s watchful gaze hurrying her along, Marcella turned to offer her best wishes. Lynne gave a curt smile and offered up her cheek. Marcella leaned forward to bestow the expected peck.

  “I saw you flirting with William as I walked down the aisle,” Lynne muttered. “Could anything be more inappropriate? Really, Marcella, only someone like you would make advances to a man like William, in church, no less.”

  What? Marcella rolled her eyes. You’d think William was a saint, the way his family went on. Well, there wasn’t anything saintly about the way his eyes were all down the front of her suit. In church, no less. Not that Marcella was complaining. Au, contraire. But how convenient of Lynne to pretend not to have noticed.

  Marcella got in her former boss’s face and whispered, “I returned his smile, Lynne. I have nothing to apologize for, but if somehow I unconsciously offended you, I’m sorry. Now, what do you mean, ‘only someone like me’?”

  Lynne’s stern expression mellowed to a mere disapproving pout. “You’re quite talented and dedicated, Marcella, but outside of work, you and Sallie are always looking to have a bit of fun. Not at all serious. And if we must be honest, William does come from a royal family, while you’ve been raised in your little ethnic neighborhood. Quite very different backgrounds. Actually, you’ve nothing in common. I hope you’re not considering pursuing him.”

  Marcella seethed. For anyone’s information, William was the one doing the pursuing. When Marcella spoke, her voice was almost a hiss. “You think I’m not good enough for William? Is that why you kept him such a secret all those months I was helping you plan this wedding? Well, what about Babette, huh? I suppose, then, Babette is from a royal family?”

  Lynne arched her practically bleached-to-nothing brows. “In a manner of speaking, yes, she is … quite. She’s a top pedigree dog.”

  While Marcella blushed at the mistake, Lynne touched a hand to her forearm and spoke in a low, more sympathetic tone. “You must understand William’s exemplary character. It’s complicated, but trust me, he’s not the man for you. He’s not some disposable date to entertain yourself with while you concentrate on your career, then later chuck because you don’t have time for a relationship. William deserves more than just your passing fancy. We’ve discussed your career objectives, Marcella. It’s no secret you’re after my job. I don’t know what the executive board will ultimately decide, but I want you to know I’ve given you a favorable recommendation as my replacement. Senior Editor is a demanding job, and as I recall, you did tell me your career takes priority over a relationship.”

  Marcella remembered that conversation. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Lynne. What I said was, I’m not a woman to pass up important life experiences just to be with a guy.”

  “And being promoted to Senior Editor is not an important life experience? What is it you really want, Marcella? Something to think about, dear.”

  Lynne released her and stepped back, raising her voice as she commented. “Now, tell me what you’ve done to your eyes, darling. They look lovely!”

  “Just a little eyeliner,” Marcella mumbled and moved on to Henry. As was her intention, Lynne had given her plenty to think about. Marcella offered a smile to the groom and said loud enough for Lynne to hear, “Did you know, Henry, that my family is in the iron and steel business?”

  “No,” Henry admitted, he didn’t know.

  “Yeah,” Marcella confirmed. “My mother irons and my father steals.”

  Henry’s eyes crinkled at their corners as he burst into chuckles.

  Lynne sniffed.

  Marcella would have congratulated Henry but felt offering her sympathies to be more appropriate. She wished him luck instead. As he turned to introduce his three grown children, one of whom was recently married, Marcella zoned out, greeting them in robotic, pasted-smile mode. Could Lynne have a point? Beyond the need to assert her controlling nature, that was. Lynne might be leaving the magazine of her own free will, but Marcella imagined she was resenting it every step of the way.

  As for herself, just what exactly was her interest in William? A couple of casual dates? A fling? She had no intention of pursuing a serious relationship at this stage in her career. And not that she was speaking from experience, but a long-distance romance was sure to be an emotionally draining undertaking filled with longing and insecurity. On the other hand, was she willing to let this great guy pass her by? Did she want to pursue a relationship with William?

  Questions. Decisions. This was too much soul-searching to dump on her. She’d known William for all of a half-hour. Still, how many guys lately had held her attention for even that long?

  Bottom line, though, nothing or no one was going to get in the way of this promotion. It meant everything to her. She’d been working her whole life towards her own personal dream of working in the media, living in an exciting city, traveling, meeting new people. As early as age eleven, she began washing dishes in her grandfather’s restaurant on Providence’s Federal Hill to earn money for college.

  It floored her how William could distract her from her career goals for even a moment.

  Marcella hadn’t realized she’d reached the end of the line until she held out her hand and it was enveloped by a firm, comforting grasp. She glanced up and fell headlong into the depths of William’s smiling aquamarine eyes.

  “Ah, nice.” He nodded approval. “Lovely, actually. I see you’ve met Darcey?”

  “I did, yes.” Marcella batted her lashes at him. “Thanks.” Darcey had encircled her eyes with a smoky shadow to give them a wide-eyed look, soft and subtle, but adding a touch more drama to her face. Her lips were painted in a nude shade to accentuate their fullness then brushed with gloss until they shone like glass.

  “Not that you didn’t look lovely before, mind. I rather fancied those two big black smudges beneath your eyes, but this is a smart look, too.”

  Marcella had to force herself not to stare. Maybe she hardly knew the guy, but she sensed something incredibly wonderful in him. She truly believed him to be the extraordinary person his mother, aunt, and Da
rcey had raved about and realized she could fall — and fall hard — for this Will Stafford. Suddenly she was terrified.

  “So, what d’ya think? Shall I fetch our drinks and meet you by the goldfish pond once they release me from this queue? What d’you fancy? A cocktail? Wine?”

  “Oh, William, I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to pass on the drink,” she heard herself say. “You see, I’ve been assigned to cover the wedding in an article for Gracious Living. There are still several shots I need from Sallie, and I want to take care of business before the party gets under way and things get crazy around here. You understand.”

  “Oh, right.” He was obviously disappointed. His smile wilted. In an unconscious gesture, his hand rose to the cravat tied at his throat. “Aunt Lynne explained about the dog collar, did she?”

  Marcella didn’t quite catch his meaning. “She enlightened me to the fact that Babette is your dog and not a girlfriend, but I don’t think I’ve heard the story about the dog collar.”

  He gave her an ambiguous look. “What exactly did Aunt Lynne say to you?”

  “Keep the line moving, please,” Lynne shouted at them.

  “I’d better go, William,” Marcella said. “Thanks again for the ride.”

  As she hurried off to look for Sallie, Marcella thought she heard him mutter, “Bloody hell.”

  Chapter 4

  Marcella picked her way across the grass in her stiletto mules to join Sallie by the dessert table. She hugged her organizer to her chest and assessed the spread as she went.

  A crystal cake stand held the wedding cake. White garden roses and rose leaves decorated three iced tiers of traditional English fruitcake, along with an evergreen called Alchemilla mollis, which Marcella remembered from her notes.

  Mountainous platters of strawberries had been set out alongside pitchers of fresh cream. Excellent choices for the simplistic yet elegant theme of a perfect summer’s day. Marcella greeted Sallie, ready to get down to business. The table merited a thumbs up, and a photo was a must-have for her article.

  Not surprisingly, Sallie was already armed with a cocktail. Her camera hung from a strap around her neck. “You’ve been gone awhile. You missed the fun. I love that dark smoky thing you’ve done to your eyes, by the way.” She raised her glass and sipped slowly. “Yummy.” She lifted her brows for emphasis, then made a show of running her tongue across her upper lip and sighed. “So? Tell me. How’d it go with William?”

  Marcella didn’t want to think about William. Thinking about William would only make her depressed. She reached for a strawberry.

  “Yeah, taste those berries,” Sallie encouraged. “They’re incredible. Sweet, but not too ‘tart.’ Like someone I know.”

  Marcella tried to muster some spark of amusement for the pun, but she could only stare blankly at the strawberry. Her appetite had vanished.

  Sallie sipped again from her cocktail. She frowned impatiently then pumped, “Okay, Marcella. Tell me what happened.”

  Of course, there was no way to avoid telling Sallie. Actually, Marcella was grateful for the opportunity to unburden herself. “William was great. Fun, courteous.” A smile touched her lips at the memory. “Even Lynne noticed how much we were hitting it off.”

  Sallie gawked. “And this has you in a funk, why?”

  “I freaked, Sallie. William offered to buy me a drink, and I told him I was too busy with work.”

  “You shot him down? The Honorable William?”

  Marcella nodded. “I know, I know. I should live in the moment. I could be having fun, but I don’t think I can dismiss William as just someone to hang with for a while. He scares me.”

  “How so?”

  “A girl doesn’t meet a man like William every day. A hunk who also happens to be a genuinely nice guy. I could really fall for him. I’m afraid if we spend time together, I’ll only grow to like him more. And then when this weekend ends and we go our separate ways, I am going to be so bummed.”

  “It doesn’t necessarily have to be like that. You can keep in touch.”

  Marcella snorted. “I can’t adopt a pet because I don’t have time for a relationship with a goldfish. How would I manage to stay connected to a man who lives an ocean away? I’m on the verge of achieving everything I’ve worked my whole career for, and at this point in my life, I’m not willing to walk away from that for any man.” Marcella managed a weak smile. “Not to mention what the phone bills would do to me.”

  “You are such a hopeless case.”

  Sallie shook her head, and this time when she raised her martini glass, Marcella recognized with astonishment its golden, yellow-orange contents topped by a twist of lime.

  Sallie beamed at her shocked expression. “Duh, took you long enough to notice. I all but waved my drink under your nose. Here, have a taste.”

  Marcella accepted and downed a mouthful. She puckered, savoring the citrus intoxicant, and wondered aloud, “Sallie, where’d you ever get such an excellent Potion for Passion?” For the first time since leaving William behind in the receiving line, she felt happiness return in a warm glow.

  “William got it for me.”

  The glow waned. “William?”

  “Yeah. I hate to rub salt in the wound, Tart, but you’re right. William is a great guy. While you were gone, we got to talking, and I asked about his Triumph. He even posed for me in his Regency duds.”

  Sallie positioned her Leica for a shot and mocked, “Yeah, baby! Fabio’s got nothing on you.” She lowered the camera with a shrug. “Anyway, he told me he used to bartend in college. When I told him about Potion for Passion being your absolute fave, he suggested we see how well the bartender could mix one. Then, if it passed my inspection, he was going to surprise you.”

  A cold, sickly feeling overcame Marcella. If she believed she’d done the right thing by refusing William, then why was she left with such regret?

  *

  Over two hundred guests rose to their feet in applause and cheers as the bride and groom entered the marquee to take their place of honor at the top table.

  William glanced out over the rows of long dining tables and scanned the faces as he clapped along. Jolly fat lot of good it’d do to search her out, he thought, keeping his smile in place. His gaze wandered idly over the garlands of greenery that draped the interior of the tent. Marcella wasn’t interested.

  But why wasn’t she interested? Bit odd, wasn’t it, the way she’d changed her mind for apparently no reason?

  Had Darcey said something in the loo to turn her off, he wondered. He couldn’t imagine Darcey giving him anything less than the highest of praise.

  Aunt Lynne. Right. More had been exchanged there besides kisses and congratulations. He’d seen the distress on Marcella’s face. ‘Course Aunt Lynne would never speak uncomplimentary of her godson, but she might get rather cheeky with a woman she believed unworthy of him. In this case, a working-class American of no particular fame or title: Marcella.

  Rather dense bloke, wasn’t he? Smitten with a woman so intent on pursuing her career she couldn’t spare him the few minutes it took to sip a drink? Mind, how he could have grown smitten so quickly, when all he knew of the exotic giantess was her occupation and favorite cocktail, was quite the mystery.

  No, Sherlock. No mystery a’tall. He was simply bowled over with attraction for her.

  But enough of that. Time he focus on the festivities, being as he was about to toast Aunt Lynne and Henry before the whole assembly. It also had been assigned him to confer the blessing over the meal.

  William reached into his trousers’ pocket for his notes. He’d jotted down a few thoughts he didn’t wish to forget, but the pocket turned up empty. Where had he lain those notes?

  As he searched the inner pocket of his frock coat, he noted flutes had been filled with champagne at each table. Centerpieces held more herbs set in white bowls, and each place setting was marked by a paper butterfly napkin ring.

  The applause faded, as one by one the guests re
sumed their seats.

  William remained standing. He removed his notes from his frock coat and unfolded the sheet. He took his reading glasses out the same pocket and was just about to slip them on when a familiar voice arrested him.

  “Well done, Vicar, chatting up those Americans. Fabulous. So, which do you fancy? I’d concentrate on the dark one, if I were you. She can’t resist undressing you with her eyes.”

  William had rather gotten the same impression himself. He’d been mistaken, obviously. “Bertie,” William implored, turning to his little brother, “what did Darcey and Marcella discuss in the loo?”

  Bertie’s eyes lit up. He drew closer. “Her breasts,” he whispered into William’s ear. “They’re quite the real thing. A pair of jolly good handfuls, I’d say.”

  William’s brain exploded at the thought of Marcella’s breasts. He stood dazed. Signals of excitement shot through his body and his face warmed, due in part to a stab of anger that Bertie should be discussing Marcella with such intimacy.

  Bertie burst into laughter. “Red in the face, are we, Vicar? Knew you’d be pleased. You can’t fool me. You’re a classic breast man.” He slapped William on the back. “Everyone fancies you for such an icon. William, the perfect son. William, the scholar, the champion rower. Even his dog’s a bloody champion. Who better than our own dear vicar to represent the family and give Aunt Lynne away? Bullocks. I often wonder whether you didn’t join the clergy just to have a better go at the ladies. That collar attracts more birds than suet.”

  “Don’t be an ass, Bertie,” William grumbled. “Take your seat. I was just about to give the toast.”

  “Toast? Is that what you’re doing? Bloody hell. I thought you were rummaging through your pockets.”

  “Go on, then. Sit down.”

  William scowled, but Bertie laughed once again, made a bow to Aunt Lynne, who was shooting him daggers, then dashed off to find his table.

  William smiled apologetically to the crowd as he drew himself up to his full height of six-foot-three.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he greeted, “I’d like to thank you all for coming. I know some of you have traveled quite a distance farther than others, and you are all welcome on this joyous day. As Lynne’s nephew and godson, it is my honor and a privilege, not only to have been chosen to give away the bride, but to toast Henry and Lynne on the happiest day of their lives.”