His only reply was to take a sharp right against traffic. To a chorus of horns and waving fists he managed to manoeuvre the car into a parking place no larger than a shoebox, his hands still gripping the steering wheel.
‘You’re not going to pull that trick on me are you? I thought you were better than that lot, but obviously not.’ He dropped one hand to her lap and started playing with her fingers, his voice now soft and wheedling. ‘It’s not very fair to leave me to the vultures, but if that’s the way…’
‘Vultures?’ She was confused now. What the hell vultures had to do with weddings was beyond her, and anyway hadn’t she only asked him out because Sorcha had egged her on. ‘What vultures?’
His hand shifted then, encircling her chin so she couldn’t avoid his gaze.
‘You know, all those single friends of Sorcha’s that I’ve been avoiding for the last six months.’ He rubbed the pad of his thumb over her skin, melting the ice that had enveloped her since she’d seen that dress. ‘That Jane Austen had it wrong,’ he continued. ‘All single women want is a man to nag, and being in possession of a large fortune has nothing to do with it.’ He paused, ‘although being in procession of a Ferrari has certainly proved my downfall on more than one occasion.’
He flipped down the visor and started rearranging his hair just so.
‘You’re ridiculous.’ She replied, laughing.
‘Yep, ridiculously handsome - you even admitted it yourself not less than an hour ago.’ He slammed the visor back in place, but not before giving it a little pat. ‘See you later you good looking devil you.’ He said, turning a mock serious face on her. ‘Come on Grainne, the sun is shining – you’re in the company of the coolest man in Dublin and he’s about to buy you…’ He paused briefly, a frown appearing. ‘Did you eat breakfast?’
Breakfast, had she eaten breakfast? She remembered the cup of tea she’d let grow cold. She remembered the plan she’d had: an egg sandwich (She was off bacon) looking out over the canal - five minutes peace and quiet while Freddie lolled about in bed. Five minutes, perhaps stretched to fifteen spent in the silence of the best part of the day. The early morning silence only interrupted by the odd tweet - a tweet not from Twitter - she still hadn’t charged her phone and at this rate she wouldn’t bother.
‘No, I can see by your expression you haven’t.’ He opened his car door and then hers, sweeping her in front of him. ‘Come on, let’s grab something – heaven only knows what time we’ll be eating.’
They arrived at The Shelbourne in a flurry. One cuppa at the Petit Parisian had led to another and when their Croque Monsieur embellished with honey roasted ham and béchamel drizzle arrived they almost ditched the wedding all together in favour of seconds. It was only the thought of Sorcha’s recriminating looks that made them high tail it up the road like wayward children – they still had to work with her at the end of the day.
Grainne and Simon had been to all the most fashionable places in and around Cork. He loved seafood, but not the kind covered in batter or indeed the kind sold in boxes with bearded captains beaming across the front! Oh no, he was a great fan of Bantry Bay scallops and Dublin Bay prawns and if anywhere tried to serve him inferior varieties he’d invariably complain.
But even her experience of high end restaurants couldn’t prepare her for The Shelbourne. She’d heard about it of course, but never dreamt she’d actually see it, let alone breach its shiny plate glass doors. Even the flooring was marble under foot, but that wasn’t a problem as the red carpet had been rolled out especially for the wedding party.
She felt like royalty being ushered down the long corridor be-speckled with floor standing candelabras shedding their reflected glory on decorative mouldings etched in gold. Her eyes didn’t have time to more than focus on the domed blue stained glass roof before she was heralded into the wedding reception.
The emotional overload continued as she clocked their dining room. The Constitution Suite was decadent to say the least. Walls emblazoned with opulent green velvet flock wallpaper interspersed with more wall hung candelabras and Victorian portraiture. The golden silk waterfall curtains were to die for and as for the Aubusson rug sitting square in the midst of mahogany floorboards – the last time she’d seen anything of that quality and richness was when she’d visited that stately home in Galway with her gran on her tenth birthday.
Her rounded eyes slipped to the long regency table loaded with pristine white table linen and sparkling crystal and cutlery as Ruari gently led her to the last two remaining seats. It felt as if she’d walked into a Merchant Ivory movie set instead of an intimate wedding feast.
‘Hi Mitch, Liddy.’ He said, smiling at the couple just settling in the seats opposite. ‘I see we haven’t missed anything.’
‘Where have you been?’ Mitch hissed. ‘Sorcha thought you’d gone AWOL with…’ He paused and, meeting Grainne’s eyes held out his hand across the table. ‘Hi Grainne, is it? I’m Mitch and this beautiful lady is my er wife – Liddy.’
Liddy smiled, her hand tucking itself into the crook of his elbow. ‘He’s not used to the wife bit – he’s only had the ring through his nose a few weeks so it’s all a bit strange.’
I’ll give you ring through my nose.’ But he belied his words by bending down and kissing her gently on the lips.
‘Hey you two, get a room.’ Shouted Paul from the other end of the table as he helped Sorcha rearrange her dress.
Laughter swelled up around them and Grainne, having felt awkward and a little embarrassed at not knowing anyone other than Ruari and the bride started to enjoy herself. There was a waiter by her side every few minutes plying her wineglass with champagne, which helped of course and as for the food – there wasn’t a prawn or scallop in sight!
‘God, I’m absolutely stuffed.’ Ruari pushed back from the table with a sigh. ‘That has to be one of the best wedding breakfasts I’ve ever had.’
Grainne, placing her knife and fork neatly on the centre of her place fiddled with the handles to make sure they were aligned evenly. ‘I’d have to agree there – I couldn’t eat another thing.’
‘Not even a profiterole tower dripping with chocolate,’ interrupted Liddy.
Grainne followed her gaze, her jaw dropping at the sight of the chocolate monstrosity being carried by two waiters on a table all of its own.
‘Mother of God!’
‘I know – fantastic isn’t it?’ She replied, ‘and of course the good thing about it is chocolate calories don’t really count.’
‘Yeah, right.’ Ruari said. ‘I’ll bet you a second helping it was a woman said that!’
‘I’ll have you know, and I have this from the highest of authority.’ She put out a hand and stroked Mitch’s arm before continuing. ‘All those endorphins in chocolate mean that any calories are soon burnt off on the after chocolate activities bound to follow.’ Green eyes crinkling up with laughter. ‘I’m not planning on seconds, more like thirds! – I’ll need all the energy I can get for later.’
‘And here was I thinking I’d married a shy little thing.’ Mitch cradled her head between his hands before dropping a kiss on the end of her nose. ‘We could always skip pudding and go and check up on Lucky.’
‘Not bloody likely - you know I love you, I wouldn’t have married you otherwise, but at this minute I don’t love you as much as I love chocolate.’ She grinned across the table.’ But we can leave straight after pudding if you like?’
Chapter Eleven
Ruari refused the profiteroles, instead opting for cheese and biscuits even as he eyed the heaped platefuls of cream and chocolate placed in front of both girls.
He’d said it before and he’d say it again. He’d never understand women as long as he lived. He’d sat and watched her put away an 8oz sirloin steak with all the trimmings, not to mention a bowl of leek and potato soup and a trilogy of salmon. Either she was bulimic or had the metabolism of a cheetah. If he ate that much he’d be as fat as a house in no time. As it was it felt li
ke a lead weight had taken up residence in the bottom of his stomach, and that after missing the soup!
He caught Mitch’s expression.
‘Where do they put it?’
‘Well I don’t know about yours but mine will be burning it off in no time.’
‘You’d be so lucky.’ Liddy interrupted, tidily adding her spoon to her now empty bowl. ‘Yum, but now I think it’s time for a walk.’
‘You’d be so lucky!’ Repeated Mitch, pointing to the head of the table where Paul was frantically chinking his glass with a spoon.
‘Ah sure he won’t be speaking for long, I give him two minutes at most.’
‘Shush.’
They all shifted in their seats to watch Paul fingering the collar of his shirt with a nervous hand.
‘Hi there and welcome.’ He paused to stare at what was no doubt a sea of faces after all that champagne. ‘I’m not a great one for speeches, I leave that to my big bro.’ He turned and pointed an unsteady finger at Mitch. ‘Forty four minutes, a tad too long, even though I won the sweep stake.’ He paused briefly before lifting his glass. ‘I’d like to thank him all the same for helping me out with the wedding and the honeymoon for that matter, but most of all I’d like to thank my beautiful wife for agreeing to take me on.’ He glanced down at Sorcha squeezing his arm. ‘Oh and please be upstanding to toast the bridesmaids and the mother-in-laws. That’s it folks.’ He glanced at his watch before glancing at Mitch. ‘Forty four seconds – learn from the master!’
‘Cheeky blighter.’ Mitch took a generous sip from his glass before turning to his wife. ‘Time for home my dear? They’ll be leaving in a minute to catch their flights.’
Where are they off to?’ Interrupted Ruari, his eyes still glued to Grainne’s near empty plate.
‘Grand Cayman, but only for a week as Paul goes straight back into his last year at Trinity.’ He was standing up now and helping Liddy with her shawl. ‘You’ll excuse us – we’ll just go and say goodbye.’ He looked at his watch again. ‘They’ll have to hurry; the taxi is in half an hour.’
Twenty minutes later saw them all standing on the pavement waving off the happy couple.
‘It’ll be you next Freddie.’ Ruari gave her a quick hug, ‘and then it’s a break from marital festivities as far as I’m concerned. Four weddings one after the other is wreaking havoc with both my waistline and my wallet.’
‘It’ll be your turn next, big boy.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘What, you don’t want to fill your house with the patter of little feet?’
‘I can’t think of anything worse Mabel.’
‘Your time will come.’ She smiled across at Grainne standing quietly by his side. ‘I’ll see you later; Henry’s coming with me to visit my dad.’
Chapter Twelve
‘Want to go for a swim?’
Grainne paused before answering. Wasn’t he the one full of surprises, but a swim was the last thing she needed.
‘A swim?’ She repeated, parrot fashion.
‘Yes.’ She watched him push his glasses up his nose. ‘It’s only gone five, plenty of time to get out to the beach before the sun goes down on us.’ He smiled then and her heart, always the most unreliable of organs lurched uncontrollably inside her chest.
‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea….’ She started, almost mesmerised by his liquid brown eyes even as she tried to think up an excuse to get her out of something she suddenly realised she really wanted to do. Instinctively she felt she could trust this gentle giant of a man but then again hadn’t she felt the same about Simon and look what he’d done to her.
‘Unless you’d rather not come with me of course.’ He added, leaning back against the railings that flanked the hotel.
‘It’s not that. After all the food I’ve just eaten I might drown.’
‘Nah, although…’ He paused, looking at the ever so slight swell noticeable through her dress. ‘Now that you mention it you’re looking a little fatter than you did a couple of hours ago….’
‘You cheeky blighter.’ She smoothed her dress across her stomach, before glaring at him. ‘What woman wants to be called fat? You could never be accused of being a charmer now could you?’
‘Well the truth often hurts and after the pile of puff pastry you just put away…’
‘Choux.’
‘Choux?’
’The profiteroles! They’re made of choux pastry, not puff.’ She said, still trying to hold in her stomach.
‘Yeah? I’ve heard it all now.’ He burst out laughing, only to stop at the sight of her face. ‘I give up Grainne. If you’d told me before I wouldn’t have teased so.’
‘What?’ She squinted at him, for the first time regretting her lack of sunglasses. What the hell was he going on about? There was nothing she’d said that could be considered remotely funny. They were standing there on the doorstep of Dublin’s finest hotel talking about pastry for God’s sake when they could be talking about so many other fine things.
He smiled then, reaching out a hand to push her hair away from her forehead. ‘You have to give it to the master baker who invented it – filling his buns with cream before smothering them with chocolate and then calling them after every woman’s favourite wardrobe accessory; Pure bloody genius!’
‘You’re daft.’ She pretended to swat him with her bag, her face set in a mock frown.
‘So all jokes aside what about this swim then? I don’t have a hidden agenda – promise. I won’t even come in for a coffee after; you’d probably end up throwing it in my lap anyway.’ His expression deadpan, his eyes still holding the suspicion of a twinkle.
She turned away, looking across at St Stephen’s Green, packed full of people catching the last few days of summer. She couldn’t even begin to work someone like him out. She knew she was plain, plain on a good day. Recently she’d been ugly - too drawn, far too thin and too lethargic to do anything other than laze about trying not to think. She had nothing to offer a man like him. There was no witty conversation, no glamourous body, no pretty face, no cute cottage on the side of the river.
Her face paled at the thought for, of course she’d finally realised what Simon had seen in her. She wasn’t a girl to love. She hadn’t brought anything to their relationship excepting the possibility of a desirable lump of Kinsale real estate, highly suitable for an up and coming physician – but Ruari wouldn’t know about that.
She threw him a brief glance. It must be the sex he was after, well he’d be in for a shock. She’d only done it once and, as Simon told her afterwards – she’d been crap. God, it had taken her all this time to realise just what a bastard he really was, but here standing around thinking about bastards wasn’t going to help her out of her current dilemma.
Did she want to spend time with him – this gorgeous kind generous man? She was sworn off men, wasn’t she? Especially ones like him that were only after a quick tumble in the hay. Oh yes, she knew all about quick tumbles in the hay and the strong urges men seemed to be governed by. She didn’t even like him that much. She remembered, was it only ten days ago – only ten days ago she’d despised him and that before she’d even met him? It wasn’t him of course. It was all men. All men, of a certain type that treated girls like a throwaway fashion accessory. She didn’t despise him now, in fact if she wasn’t careful she’d find herself making a complete fool of herself and then where’d she be? There were only so many places to run away to.
‘I’ll buy you an ice cream, even though I’m not sure where you’ll put it.’ His voice interrupting her thoughts like a hammer smashing through dead wood.
‘What, a large Mr Whippy with a flake?’ She quipped back.
It was only a swim, right: One swim wasn’t going to hurt now was it. She had no intention of taking it any further and, even if she did would it really be the end of the world? It wasn’t as if she was a shy little virgin or anything and her friends had been telling her to go and play the field. Her thoughts were dro
wned out by the sound of his voice.
‘Women and chocolate - you remind me of my sister.’
‘Well, that cinches it.’ She said as though the fact he had a sibling explained everything. She looked up at his questioning look before finishing her sentence.
‘Brothers are all I’m interested in at the moment.’ She added, placing her hand on his arm. ‘Lead on bro.’
He pulled up outside her house for the second time that day.
‘Thanks.’ She smiled up at him. ‘I always seem to be thanking you for something. Did you want to come in and see how Lizzie’s doing? She’s being going from strength to strength, thanks to you – oops, there I go again.’
‘I’d love to – we have time.’
Chapter Thirteen
Ruari heaved a sigh of relief, his gaze lingering on the enticing view of her bottom as it swayed under the thin silk of her dress, even as part of him absorbed her comment about brothers. Well if that’s how she wanted to play it – after all he didn’t fancy her or anything now did he? She had pretty hands and a cute bum under all that silk, but that really wasn’t the basis for any kind of a relationship.
Not fancying her was an excellent start to their friendship. All he could say was she was a brilliant nurse, probably one of the best he’d ever worked with. The way she’d handled Mr McDade was exemplary. He’d even heard on the grapevine she’d been popping up to see him during her breaks with newspapers and chocolates, knowing full well he wouldn’t be getting many, if any visitors. She was also a good friend, as he remembered just how good Freddie’s hair had looked. If he was going to choose a new friend kindness surely was more important than cuteness, or sexual chemistry come to that.
Girl Descending (Irish Girl, Hospital Romance 2) Page 7