The Unconventional Bride

by Lindsay Armstrong

  ‘Now I come to think of it, Batman got the blame. She told me he’d acquired the habit of squirrelling away clothes. I can’t think why I didn’t query the fact that he hadn’t chewed any of them.’

  ‘You had a bit on your mind.’

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘I suppose I did.’ She moved and the skirt twirled. ‘Would you rather I changed into something of mine?’

  ‘Not at all—did I say that?’ Some wicked amusement gleamed in his eyes.

  ‘No. You don’t seem to be visibly impressed one way or the other, though,’ she said tartly.

  ‘Oh, I am,’ he replied softly. ‘Not only do you look simply gorgeous, Mel, but the thought of the fight you must have had with yourself over what clothes to wear—fills me with awe too.’

  By now he’d stepped onto the veranda and they were only separated by a few inches.

  Mel breathed again rather unexpectedly instead of telling him to go to hell, which had been on the tip of her tongue.

  ‘Would it be too much to ask if you were able to persuade yourself away from cotton, supermarket underwear as well?’ he drawled.

  To her horror, her breathing became more ragged and a dew of sweat beaded her forehead because he was so close and, despite her hurt and anger, it was impossible not to be affected. To even visualise herself in his arms in no underwear at all. Why is that always there, she asked herself in despair, when I’m making such a fuss about sleeping with him?

  But the answer came with the man. Etienne Hurst was supremely desirable. The planes and angles of his body were so strong yet clean and fine-tuned, his shoulders so broad, but not only that, he had all the confidence of a superbly fit athlete and a man who knew women all too well, she didn’t doubt.

  Do I want to be just any woman to him, though? It flashed through her mind.

  ‘Mel?’

  She blushed and took a step backwards. ‘Uh—you were saying?’ she asked disjointedly.

  ‘I was contemplating your underwear.’

  He lifted his hand and touched her hot cheek and ripples of extreme sensuality flowed down her body, not only at the feel of his fingers on her cheek but also at the way he was looking at her. A heavy-lidded dark gaze that told her all the curves of her body, the sheen of her skin in her most private places might just as well be on parade for him.

  ‘It’s…my own,’ she said with an effort.

  ‘Good.’ He took his fingers away. ‘For some reason I like the thought of you preferring cotton and no frills, don’t ask me why.’

  She did anyway. ‘Why?’

  His brow creased briefly. ‘Maybe there’s a nun-like quality to you, Mel Ethridge.’

  ‘I can assure you there isn’t.’

  ‘What would you know about it?’ he asked with his lips twisting.

  She bit her lip in confusion.

  ‘OK!’ He moved away. ‘I applaud the battle you’ve done with yourself, Mel. Give me ten minutes and we’ll go to dinner.’

  As soon as Mel laid eyes on Paula Littleby she knew that, at least on one front, she’d made the right decision regarding clothes.

  The redhead was looking superb in a tight black dress that showed off her cleavage and a stunning diamond necklace to full advantage and shouted couturier. Nor did Paula bother to hide the spark of surprise in her eyes as she studied Mel’s outfit, although she said nothing initially.

  Brad Littleby was full of compliments, however. ‘Wow! The bride looks stunning! You’re a lucky guy, Etienne!’

  ‘Thank you, I know it,’ Etienne murmured, whereas Mel smiled nervously then took herself to task—don’t be a wimp or a prig, you can do this!

  ‘I take it you shop in Brisbane, darling,’ Paula remarked.

  ‘As a matter of fact I have someone who does it for me,’ Mel replied. ‘Saves a lot of time.’

  Etienne shot her an amused little glance but sobered immediately. ‘Shall we go in?’

  ‘But I adore shopping,’ Paula objected, rising to her feet.

  ‘Don’t I know it?’ Brad contributed ruefully.

  ‘Most women do,’ Paula said with a tinge of venom.

  ‘Mel leads a very busy life,’ Etienne contributed.

  ‘Then I’d better take some tips from her!’ Paula put her arm through Mel’s. ‘Because I am bored stiff with my life!’

  Uh-oh, are we in the middle of a domestic here? Mel wondered.

  ‘So, tell me what you’re so busy doing you don’t have time to shop?’ Paula asked, once they’d been seated at the same table Mel and Etienne had shared the night before, although tonight there were no wedding bells and horseshoes.

  Mel fingered her napkin and explained about Raspberry Hill and her three brothers.

  ‘And you never wanted to do anything else?’ Paula looked amazed.

  ‘Not really.’ Mel smiled. ‘I guess I was born and bred a country girl.’

  ‘Then how did you meet Etienne?’ Paula was plainly puzzled now.

  This time Etienne did the explaining.

  Paula sat back and nursed her glass of wine. ‘How convenient!’

  ‘It was, wasn’t it?’ Mel replied with a grin and a wry little look at Etienne. ‘But what did you do before you got married, Paula?’

  ‘She was a model,’ Brad said genially.

  ‘I could still be a model if it weren’t for you, Brad,’ Paula pointed out. ‘He doesn’t like to think of his wife treading the catwalk looking sexy.’

  ‘Would you?’ Brad asked Etienne.

  ‘I hadn’t thought about it.’ Etienne shrugged. ‘Shall we order?’

  For a time the evening went smoothly but a couple of glasses of wine later saw Paula’s discontent resurface.

  ‘Are you planning a family?’ she asked of Mel.

  ‘One day.’

  ‘You keen for kids?’ Paula transferred her attention to Etienne and bestowed upon him a caressing, all-encompassing gaze backed by the full power of her cleavage and lusciously painted, pouting lips.

  ‘Sure,’ he said easily. ‘How about you two?’

  ‘Paula has reservations,’ Brad said.

  ‘Some women are born with a maternal streak; I am not one of them,’ Paula announced.

  ‘No wonder you’re bored stiff if you don’t have kids and don’t have a job,’ Mel said, but with genuine concern in her blue eyes. ‘Although there’s all sorts of charity work you could do. You know,’ she turned to Brad, ‘I’ve just had a thought. Perhaps you would consider Paula organising some charity fund-raising fashion parades?’

  Etienne cleared his throat as dead silence from the other side of the table greeted this suggestion but Mel went on unaware and quite excited. ‘I think that would be a great idea! Do you have a favourite charity, Paula?’

  ‘Are you kidding?’ Brad said flatly as Paula continued to regard Mel as if she’d dropped in from outer space. ‘She wouldn’t know one from the other and she wouldn’t have the faintest idea of how to go about it!’

  ‘It’s quite simple,’ Mel assured him. ‘The whole trick to fund-raising is not being afraid to ask people for their time and their generosity. You may get some knock-backs but you often get some lovely surprises.’

  ‘I suppose,’ Paula said frostily, ‘that’s another string you have to your oh-so-efficient bow?’

  ‘I’ve done a bit,’ Mel agreed with a grin. ‘I once organised a charity rodeo—’

  ‘Enough!’ Paula said. ‘If you think I’m going to grovel around the place—’

  ‘Well, I think Mel might be on to something,’ Brad broke in. ‘I think it would do you the world of good, Paula, to stop thinking about yourself to the exclusion of all else and to get out into the real world—’

  He stopped abruptly as his wife emptied her wine glass over him.

  ‘You’re laughing!’ Mel accused.

  Etienne had extricated them from the debacle with the minimum of fuss, and once again they were on the beach, although this time in the moonlight.

  ‘I’m laughing,’
he agreed with his shoulders still shaking.

  ‘But it was awful! I thought they were going to have an all-in brawl.’

  ‘They may yet well do so.’

  She stopped with her shoes in her hand and her expression stricken.

  He turned to her, still looking wickedly amused. ‘Did you have no idea of the mayhem you were creating, Mel?’

  ‘I…I thought I was being helpful, that’s all. I mean, it seems such an awful waste to have so much and be so discontented!’

  ‘So you weren’t,’ his gaze lingered on her, ‘doing it tit-for-tat?’

  Mel’s eyes widened. ‘Certainly not—what do you mean?’

  ‘She was sending out some rather obvious signals.’

  ‘Oh, that.’ Mel dismissed it with a wave of her hand. ‘That’s probably an occupational hazard I’ll just have to learn to live with. No.’ She paused. ‘Etienne, have I been…stupid?’ she asked on a lowering note.

  He put his arms around her shoulders. ‘You’re priceless, Mel.’

  ‘Pricelessly funny ha-ha and thick as a plank, do you mean?’

  ‘Worth a hundred of Paula Gibson.’

  Mel felt a little glow and they strolled together for a while in a companionable silence.

  ‘Better night,’ he said.

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘If we weren’t married, say we’d only just met, would you mind strolling in the moonlight with me—rather than walking for exercise, Mel?’

  She made a little face. ‘No-o. It’s rather nice.’

  ‘Then how about this?’ And with the lightest touch he ran his hands up and down her arms then hooked a finger into the neckline of her top, drawing her closer so their lips were just touching and her loose tendrils of hair were blowing against his face. ‘Still nice?’ His lips moved against hers, his voice deep and quiet.

  ‘Yes…’

  ‘But?’

  ‘If this were only the first time we’d met…’ She hesitated.

  ‘Forgive me,’ he said gravely. ‘I forgot for the moment what a very literal person you are.’

  This time Mel flinched visibly but he went on, ‘Let’s speed up a bit, how about to our second date—would it be permissible then?’

  ‘Yes…’

  ‘Within limits, of course.’

  ‘Etienne,’ she said rather raggedly but all the same, ‘I get the picture; we’re going back to the beginning we missed out on.’

  ‘Good. Nevertheless, does that mean you’d be happy to participate—on a second date?’

  She hesitated then slipped her arms around his neck. And he moved his hands slowly from her armpits to her hips.

  She trembled but made no attempt to move away as he pulled her hips into his and held her there, and teased her lips open with his tongue.

  One by one all her senses came alive, not only vision, taste and touch et cetera but hidden senses; the budding and flowering beneath his straying fingers of erotic areas she wasn’t aware she possessed. Joyous, tantalising sensations as he caressed her throat and behind her ears, her nape, the soft skin of her armpits, her hips. Sensations that awoke in her not only her own pleasure but also a throbbing need for more.

  And a need not only for more of that edgy, provoking pleasure he was bringing her with the lightest touch but also more of Etienne himself.

  A desire, she identified with a spurt of shock, to be equal in this at least with the man who held all the cards of her life. Who was magnificent, clever, dynamic, always one step ahead of her and capable of just walking away from her as he’d done earlier.

  A desire to conquer him with her body and claim him with her mind…

  The next revelation that came to her, however, was that if anyone was being conquered, it was she. She was helpless with desire in his arms, revelling in his kiss and his hard warmth. And helpless as he gradually drew their passionate embrace to a close. His hands stopped wandering, he lifted his mouth from hers and for a long moment just held her gently against him.

  She wasn’t sure if she made a protesting little sound but something drew a faint smile from him.

  ‘Let’s not forget this is only our second date, Mel.’

  If there was one thing she admired herself for later, it was the way she regrouped. She took several deep breaths then pushed herself away from him, realised she’d dropped her shoes somewhere and said with a tinge of humour,

  ‘Let’s not also forget I ruined a pair of shoes on this beach only last night, Etienne!’

  For a moment he didn’t move a muscle as he stared narrowly into her eyes. Then his mouth relaxed and he looked around. ‘Here they are. Not ruined.’

  He picked them up and handed them to her. ‘Want to talk about it?’

  She studied her shoes and considered. ‘No. But I mightn’t mind if we made another…date.’

  ‘Touché,’ was his response, coming just a shade belatedly. ‘However, seeing as we don’t have separate homes to go to, it might be an idea if you went to bed, Mel. I’ll come up later.’

  ‘If that’s supposed to make me feel foolish and virginal, Etienne—’ she started to say.

  But he put a finger to her lips. ‘Not at all. I started this, so I, in a manner of speaking,’ his dark eyes were alight with the humour of self-directed irony, ‘made this bed I’m going to have to lie in tonight. I just need a drink to help me through it,’ he added.

  ‘Oh.’ She bit her lip.

  ‘And who knows, I may even find a fellow sufferer at the bar?’

  ‘Who? You mean Brad?’

  ‘None other. We can drown our sorrows together.’

  ‘Etienne,’ she planted her hands on her hips, ‘you did start this but, for what it’s worth, I think it’s a good idea,’ she said without a tremor, although that didn’t nearly encompass her thoughts on the subject. ‘So don’t spoil it now.’

  ‘No, ma’am.’

  ‘And don’t laugh at me either!’

  ‘Who’s laughing?’

  ‘You are. And I am going to bed.’ She turned away and walked up the beach.

  ‘Just a minute, Mel.’

  She stopped but didn’t return to him. He’d taken his jacket off and slung it over one shoulder, and as she watched he loosened his tie. She eased her hair out of the knot it was coming out of while he apparently debated what to say.

  ‘We haven’t established when our next date will be,’ he offered at last.

  She tilted her chin and swirled her skirt. ‘I’ll think about it.’

  ‘Now, that is…just like a woman.’

  ‘I must be learning something!’ she said wryly as she swung her arms wide, and retreated.

  The next morning she was all packed and ready for their trip to Great Keppel when she came out of the bedroom to find breakfast served on the veranda. Although it had rained during the night, it was a beautiful morning with a light breeze creating a lazy pattern of ripples on the sea.

  Etienne was at the table and he emerged from behind the sports pages of the paper. He hadn’t shaved, he was barefoot, wearing shorts and a checked shirt. He looked, not to put too fine a point on it, moody and dishevelled.

  Uh-oh, she thought as she hovered on the doorstep for a moment, what will I have to cope with today? Nor did his moody, unshaven state decrease by one iota the way he affected her. Her nerves tightened, her senses sharpened and she recalled with almost painful clarity all the responses he’d drawn from her last night.

  Then she pulled herself together and joined him.

  But she was not helped by the way he looked her over thoroughly, her yellow blouse and slim white trousers, her newly washed and shining hair.

  ‘Morning, Etienne,’ she said, stiffening her spine and pulling out her chair. ‘How are you today?’ she added and could immediately have kicked herself.

  He smiled a singularly sweet smile at her, quite taking her by surprise, and raked a hand through his curly hair. ‘Morning. You certainly look all bright and bushy-tailed.’

  She regard
ed him with a faint frown. ‘You don’t—if you don’t mind me saying so?’

  ‘Not at all!’ He reached for the coffee-pot. ‘I feel,’ he grimaced and rubbed the blue shadows on his jaw, ‘like a horse put out to pasture.’

  She frowned. ‘Why?’

  ‘I am unused, my bright and pretty wife, to being away from work for any length of time.’

  ‘Oh! Is that all? For a moment I wondered if you might have a hangover after consorting with Brad Littleby last night.’

  He laughed. ‘Well, he was certainly drowning his sorrows in the bar last night but I only had one drink.’

  Mel served herself some fruit and muesli. ‘Did I do an awful lot of damage last night?’ she asked.

  ‘I would say the damage was already done.’ Etienne sat up and took the cover off a plate of sausages, bacon and egg. ‘Paula is his second wife, for whom he discarded his first wife in a fit of insanity, he now believes.’

  ‘But why?’

  He studied her wide eyes then said with irony, ‘Well, you’ve seen her, and men in the grip of lust are not renowned for their wisdom.’

  ‘Oh dear.’

  ‘As you say.’ He reached for the condiments. ‘Would you have a solution for that?’

  She stopped eating with her spoon poised. ‘Why would I?’

  ‘I was wondering if you would recommend he ditch Paula and go back to wife number one, or persevere with remodelling—’ he grinned ‘—Paula along the lines you recommended?’

  ‘Etienne,’ she put her spoon down slowly, ‘what are you trying to say? I mean, is your underlying point to do with me being a “regular little do-gooder”, which seems to amuse you greatly?’

  He shook some salt on his egg and some Worcestershire Sauce on his sausages.

  ‘By the way, salt is not good for you,’ she murmured.

  For a moment his expression defied description.

  Mel had an attack of remorse. ‘Sorry, there are times when I can’t resist telling people what they should and should not do. But only in their best interests.’

  ‘Or what you perceive are their best interests.’ He shot her a keen but dark little look.

  ‘Well,’ she shrugged, ‘hardening of the arteries is in no one’s best interests, I would have thought.’