The Bride, the Baby & the Best Man

by Liz Fielding

  ‘But it’s true !’ she protested, apparently quite unable to stop. ‘Aunt Janet would never allow it!’

  ‘You sound more like her with every passing day. What a shame you won’t be putting all this experience to good use.’

  That was when she stopped worrying about what Sarah might be thinking and began to worry about what her aunt had been saying. ‘What?’ she demanded, quite forgetting that they had an audience. ‘What has Aunt Janet been telling you?’

  ‘What is there to tell?’ Harry’s look was thoughtful as he dropped a kiss on her tousled head then released her, rolling away to sit on the far side of the bed, raking his long fingers through his hair. ‘How’s Ben?’ he asked Sarah, apparently not in the least put out to be discovered in a single bed with a woman who was about to marry someone else.

  ‘Fine. No symptoms. Yet.’ Sarah ran a professional hand over Alice’s forehead. Alice scowled and pulled away. ‘And this one’s a lot cooler.’

  He rose to his feet, still favouring his good leg and retrieved the mewing scrap of fluff from the bed. ‘Well the doc can look at them both later.’ He regarded the wriggling cat with amusement. ‘Come on, Tiddles. “She who must be obeyed” has spoken. Downstairs where you belong.’ His departure left a sudden vacuum. An unbearable silence.

  ‘He just— I just—’ Faith rushed in, feeling somehow that she should offer Sarah an explanation. The words wouldn’t come and she wondered bleakly what had happened to the self-confident woman with her life under perfect control who had arrived at Wickham Ash, was it really only three days ago? ‘Well, anyway,’ she said, in a desperate little rush, ‘it wasn’t what you think.’

  ‘Oh, I make it a rule never to think before six-thirty,’ Sarah said, solemnly. ‘Or before I’ve had a cup of tea. Can I make one for you?’

  Grateful for her tact, Faith responded with a somewhat rueful grin. ‘That would be lovely.’ She eased herself to her feet. ‘Then I’d better have a shower.’ A cold, fierce blast of reality might concentrate her wits.

  ‘Well, take your time, have a nap if you want. You couldn’t have had much sleep last night.’ She seemed quite unaware of Faith’s sudden tremor, or that her words had a double edge.

  ‘Rather too much, under the circumstances. I didn’t mean to go to sleep at all.’

  ‘Well the crisis seems to be over.’

  ‘Is it?’ Faith would have given a great deal to be sure of that.

  ‘For the moment. With children you can never tell.’ As Sarah turned to go, she stopped in the doorway. ‘Oh, by the way, your father rang last night while you were out. I’m sorry, but with all the drama it went right out of my mind.’

  ‘Is anything wrong? My aunt’s in hospital.’

  Faith immediately dismissed her own concerns, but Sarah was reassuring. ‘He said not to worry. In fact, he seemed very glad that you’d gone out for the evening. He said it would do you good.’

  Which just went to show how much he knew. ‘Oh, well,’ she said, glancing at her watch. ‘I suppose it is a bit early to ring him.’

  ‘I’m sure it’ll wait until you’ve had your shower and some breakfast. There’s nothing worse than sleeping in your clothes, is there?’ Sarah said, as she wandered off, yawning, to make the tea.

  Isn’t there? Faith headed for her own room and the needle-sharp chill of the shower. She had her doubts about that. On this occasion she would have rated sleeping without them an absolute disaster.

  * * *

  Faith returned her father’s call as soon as she had coaxed Alice to eat a little yogurt for her breakfast, but all she got was the answering machine. She called her aunt, hoping to find him at the hospital, but Janet Bridges hadn’t seen her brother and was far more interested in the health of little Alice.

  ‘Make sure she has plenty of fluids and don’t let her get too excited. Elizabeth could never handle excitement. It used to bring her out in a rash. Or was that Emerald Fitzsimmon? Oh, Faith, I’m getting old.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. You’ve just had major surgery. Once you’re back on your feet there’ll be no holding you.’

  ‘It’ll be a week or two yet,’ she grumbled.

  ‘I want you at my wedding. In a wheelchair if necessary. You can decorate it with white bows.’

  ‘Humph. We’ll see about that. How’s Harry?’

  ‘Harry— What Harry is isn’t repeatable,’ she said, with feeling.

  ‘He’s getting to you is he?’ Janet Bridges chuckled.

  ‘Was that the plan?’

  ‘Plan? I don’t know what you mean.’ Her indignation was utterly convincing. It wasn’t until she had hung up that she realised her aunt hadn’t asked her why she was still in Wickham Ash.

  The jangle of the doorbell distracted her. After the doctor had left, uttering soothing assurances to Harry that Alice’s glands would reduce in size in their own good time and that he was almost certain that it wasn’t mumps but he’d call in again and check on her progress, she knew there had been something bothering her, but couldn’t remember what.

  ‘Penny for your thoughts?’

  Faith looked up as Harry returned from seeing the doctor to his car. ‘They’re not worth as much as that. My head’s stuffed with cotton wool.’

  ‘A swim would clear your head. Sarah can hold the fort upstairs for half an hour.’

  ‘I have the feeling that Sarah could man the battlements of the Tower of London single-handed,’ she said, but was unwilling to risk that kind of close encounter.

  ‘It’s a shame that Alice doesn’t like her.’

  ‘I can’t think why, but you don’t have to turn the screw, Harry, I’m not about to desert her. I feel bad enough that I was out enjoying myself when she was sick.’

  ‘You are prepared to admit you were enjoying yourself?’

  ‘Of course I enjoyed myself. I’m sorry that I didn’t have the opportunity to thank you properly last night.’

  ‘You were getting there, but since you’re staying, you’ll have plenty of time to get round to it.’

  She felt her cheeks sting with colour, but made a heroic effort to ignore the fact. ‘I’ve promised Alice I’ll stay until her mother returns. Heaven knows how I’m going to organise my wedding long distance, but with Sarah looking after Ben, I’ll try. You’ve got what you wanted, Harry, so can we leave it at that?’

  ‘If you think that’s what I wanted, Faith, I’m happy to disabuse you any time. But perhaps now would be a good time to tell you that your wedding invitations will be arriving by courier this morning.’

  ‘They’re coming here? You went ahead and arranged that without consulting me?’

  ‘I was trying to be helpful. Of course if you’ve changed your mind?’

  ‘About staying?’

  ‘About the wedding, Faith,’ he said, quite gently. ‘There’s no compulsion to get married you know. People don’t get married all the time and survive to tell the tale. I know.’

  They survived, but not unscathed. ‘Of course I haven’t changed my mind,’ she said, with a determination that rang hollow in her own ears. ‘Whatever gave you that idea?’

  He reached out and touched her lips, his eyes lit with a provoking little smile. ‘I can’t imagine.’

  ‘Harry! Please!’ she begged, as a shiver ran through her and terrified of her own weakness turned away from him.

  ‘Please what, Faith?’ he asked. His hands were resting so lightly on her shoulders, his breath so soft against her hair that she might have been imagining it. Except that her heart was pumping with excitement, her skin rippling beneath his touch.

  ‘Please don’t,’ she begged.

  ‘Don’t?’ His hands tightened. ‘Look at yourself in the mirror, Faith. There, see?’ She opened her eyes unwillingly, closed them again as she was confronted by her reflection in the mirror that hung above the fireplace. Her cheeks were hectic, her breasts rising and falling too quickly, Harry’s face above hers, the pair of them framed like a photograph by the ornat
e gilt frame. ‘You do see, don’t you, Faith? Your head is saying one thing, but your body is saying something quite different.’

  She couldn’t deny it, but she didn’t have to succumb to the temptation. ‘It’s got nothing to do with love,’ she said, turning away from the disturbing image in the mirror.

  ‘What is love? Is it something that can be written down on paper and sent through the post? Pretty words that—’

  ‘Julian cares about things,’ she blurted out, anything to stop the dangerous words that seemed to threaten everything she stood for, wanted. ‘Important things.’ She turned to face him.

  ‘Unlike me?’

  ‘You don’t understand, Harry.’

  ‘I understand that love at long distance is very safe. You can detach yourself from emotion, analyse your feelings like a set of accounts. It’s what you’re best at, isn’t it, Faith? That’s why you’re so good at your job. That’s why you can contemplate marrying a man you scarcely know.’

  ‘Is knowing a man any guarantee of happiness? I’d known Michael all my life. I thought I knew him better than anyone but he still hurt me.’

  ‘First love seems very real, but it’s just nature’s way of shaking out the emotions, giving them a trial run. We need to mature a little before we’re ready to commit ourselves for life.’

  ‘Yes, well, I’m all grown up now and making a mature choice.’

  ‘Are you? I think perhaps you’re still eighteen, emotionally.’

  ‘And you’d like to help me grow up a little?’ Her challenge was direct and he met it without flinching.

  ‘Any time you like. And then if you still want to marry Julian—’ He gave the smallest shrug.

  ‘You conceited—’ She swung at him, but he caught her wrist and held her.

  ‘Whatever happened to the level-headed Miss Faith Bridges?’ he enquired, a tormenting grin lighting his eyes.

  ‘You could agitate a statue!’ she declared, trying to pull free. He merely took the opportunity to capture her free hand.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘That wasn’t a compliment!’ She stood, her breasts heaving with indignation. ‘You just don’t understand. Julian and I—’ She stopped, unwilling to expose herself further to Harry’s ridicule.

  ‘You and Julian,’ he prompted.

  ‘It isn’t like that! It’s not simply lust!’

  ‘After a long spell in the icy wastes Julian might not feel quite the same. You’d better prepare yourself—’

  ‘Harry...’ Her protest died on her lips as still holding her wrists he drew her closer to him.

  ‘For instance, what would you do if he were here in this room right now, holding you in his arms? How would you feel?’

  She didn’t know. She only knew how Harry made her feel. Breathless with anticipation, light-headed, unable to move as he took her hands and raised them to his lips, kissing the tips of her fingers one by one without ever taking his eyes from hers.

  ‘That’s fairly innocent. Could you handle that?’ he asked.

  Innocent? It didn’t feel innocent. It felt dangerously arousing, churning up sensations, longings that were anything but innocent.

  Faith tried very hard to concentrate on Julian, but every touch of Harry’s lips sent tiny charges of electricity racing through her body, shocking into life desires that she had buried deep and she couldn’t answer, couldn’t think of anything outside of the small circle formed by their bodies. He turned her hands over and his lips brushed her palm and she visibly trembled.

  ‘That seems to be a little bit more of a problem.’

  ‘I...’ Her throat clammed up. He released her hands and she almost shook with what she hoped was relief as he straightened. Too soon. There was no relief as he cradled her face between long sensitive hands. There would never be any relief until she found the strength to tear herself away from Harry’s drugging touch. She must stop him. Right now. All she had to do was walk away. But her legs, like her voice, didn’t seem to be working.

  ‘Did he ever kiss you, Faith? Or were you too busy discussing how you were going to save the world? Perhaps a marriage of minds doesn’t need passion. And since you’ve apparently decided not to have any children, I suppose you won’t actually need sex. Or are you having second thoughts about that?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘I’ve seen you with Ben in the middle of the night, half asleep, your hair tumbled about your shoulders, eyes full of love. You looked so warm, so beautiful, Faith. I wanted you so much...’

  ‘Harry, please.’ She mouthed the words, no sound came out.

  ‘“Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments...” Tell me, Faith, does this true-minded man know that you blush like a peach ripening on a sunny wall? Or how your skin feels beneath his hands?’ He stroked her temple lightly with the pad of his thumb. ‘It’s like translucent silk, I can see the faint violet blue tracery of your veins—’ She felt her pulse throbbing beneath his touch, warm and vital. ‘Does he know that your hair smells of apple blossom?’ Somehow her cheek was resting against the softness of his shirt while his fingers, his face, were buried in her hair.

  ‘It’s just—’ Shampoo. She must be going mad, she thought. She should be telling him to stop, but she was mesmerised by the touch of his hands, the soft lulling drawl of his voice.

  He lifted her face, tilting it up so that his own was just above her, too close. Not close enough. ‘Does he know that when you part your lips, just a little, so that your teeth show, you look like a kitten asking to be stroked?’ He clearly didn’t expect an answer because he brushed his mouth against hers. Stroking her. And she knew why cats purred.

  Her mind was clamouring a warning — a flashing red light, wailing klaxon kind of warning — but her body wasn’t listening. Her lips were throbbing, demanding the kiss that hovered, and then her body was drowning in the sweetness of it as he took her lower lip between his and stroked it with the tip of his tongue. There was no thought of danger as he drew her close, one hand tangled in her hair, one at her waist holding her to him so that she could feel his need for her. This was it. Passion. White-hot. No holds barred, no prisoners taken. She wanted Harry and in that moment nothing mattered more than that she show him how much.

  It seemed forever before they finally parted, a lifetime of bliss before he raised his head and she saw the flash of something like triumph in his eyes. ‘Tell me, Faith,’ he asked, softly, ‘was that better than a cross on the bottom of a letter?’

  And that finally released her from the madness that had seized her. She wanted to strike out, slap that look of triumph from his face, wipe out his memory of how her mouth had felt, had tasted. But she didn’t because she knew he was right. He had seen her desire and reacted to it. She had not been an unwilling partner to his love-making. But for her it had been real. Real feelings, real emotions. He had been doing nothing more than proving a point.

  Well, he had proved it.

  What now? Did he expect her to fall into his bed? A temporary lover as well as temporary nanny? In the white heat of passion she might have succumbed to temptation, but knowing that he was simply providing a tutorial for a woman he thought emotionally immature, in need of warming up— Even so, it took all her strength to step back from the brink.

  ‘When I’ve tried the cross in person,’ she said, with admirable restraint, ‘I’ll let you know.’

  ‘You’ll what!’ Disbelief flashed across his face, followed closely by something bordering on disgust. ‘You’re not being honest with yourself, Faith. Worse, you’re not being honest with a man who wants to marry you. He can’t be that much of a cold fish.’

  ‘I made a promise.’

  ‘Promises and pie-crusts are made to be broken,’ he retorted.

  ‘Are they?’ She made her voice hard. ‘I thought you might understand the importance of a promise better than most, Harry.’

  ‘Did you?’ His eyes darkened. ‘Then I’m sorry to disappoint you. Clemmie might have been vain
and facile, the kind of girl who never gave a promise a second thought if it suited her. But she knew what she wanted out of life and went for it. It gave her a basic kind of honesty. You should try it some time.’

  ‘I know what I want,’ she said, stiffly.

  ‘Really?’ His eyes clouded with anger. ‘Then last night was a figment of my imagination? And five minutes ago that was some other woman kissing me as if her life depended on it?’ He didn’t wait for her answer, but turned abruptly and walked from the room.

  * * *

  ‘Didn’t anyone hear the bell?’

  Sarah startled her. Faith had no idea how long she had been standing in the drawing room, staring at nothing while her mind tried to reel back into place the emotions that Harry had unravelled. But she couldn’t even find the end to make a start.

  ‘What? Oh, Sarah, I’m sorry. I was miles away.’

  ‘Well hurry back! Your wedding dress has just been delivered and I, for one, can’t wait to see it.’

  ‘My wedding dress?’ What grotesque irony had brought it to the door just at that moment?

  ‘The young woman who delivered it asked if you would try it on to check the length as soon as possible,’ Sarah was saying. ‘Apparently they had one bride who didn’t bother and they had to despatch a dressmaker to tack her up half an hour before she was due at the church.’

  Some sort of response seemed to be required and Faith made a superhuman effort to concentrate her mind on what Sarah was saying. ‘Try it on.’ She repeated the words dully.

  ‘Would you like a hand?’ Eager to see the dress, to share the excitement, Sarah lingered, apparently not noticing her distraction.

  ‘Now?’

  ‘Well, the children are having a nap and Harry’s gone out so there’s no danger of him seeing.’ There was some mercy left in heaven, Faith thought. At least she was to be spared his sarcasm. ‘Alice was telling me that she’s going to be your flower girl. She’s terribly excited.’

  ‘Her mother used to come out in a rash when she got over-excited,’ Faith warned vaguely. ‘I think.’