Her Improper Affair

by Shea Mcmaster

  From his end of the table Oswald could see her blush while he pushed in Randi’s seat. Probably just as well he was at the far end from Courtney. She’d pick up on his nervousness too easily.

  Court stood to give the blessing. The vicar would have been far more brief. It seemed Court had a lot to be thankful for.

  At last the prayer ended and the parade of food began. Oswald let Randi dish out everything that passed their way. Turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, corn, salad, rolls… The bounty rolled on and on.

  “We don’t serve this as individual courses,” Randi explained to the company in general. “Most Americans don’t have servers, and it’s sort of a tradition to just pile it all on. Take a little of everything, and you can go back for more of what you like best. Pass the gravy, Drew, if you please.”

  Of course Oswald had tasted some of these dishes before, but not all. The sweet potatoes with melted marshmallows on top didn’t appeal to him one bit. Most of it was quite excellent, and it wasn’t long before he began to feel very full. Call him a civilized man, but he preferred the courses served separately and in proper order. When he and Courtney hosted the feast, they’d adjust the tradition slightly and slow down the food service.

  Then again, like his courtship, nothing had worked out properly. Normally deviations from a civilized plan annoyed him, but not today. Today he saw the value in relaxing and going with the flow.

  He glanced down the table toward Courtney in time to see her throw her head back in unrestrained laughter. The intoxicating sound soared to the heavy Tudor beams overhead. Everyone stopped talking and turned their heads to watch, and listen. From the corner of his eye, Oswald could see his Uncle Wilton smile at the vision before them. Uncle Wilton who had an even bigger stick up his arse than Courtney accused Oswald of having. Oswald met his uncle’s gaze and was completely gobsmacked when the man actually smiled and nodded his way. Uncle Wilton approved of Courtney.

  Shocked to his very soul, Oswald blinked, then nodded back. For once in his life, Uncle Wilton approved of Oswald’s decision. It was mind blowing. So much so, he didn’t want to wait for dessert to be served.

  Scraping the floor with his chair as he stood, Oswald had everyone’s attention. Only he didn’t see them. He only saw Courtney as the room fell silent but for the crackling of the logs burning in the large fireplaces on either end of the great hall.

  Gaze firmly locked on her questioning stare, he started walking toward the head of the table. Somewhere in the back of his mind some vague words floated around. He had a speech prepared, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember any part of it except the last two words.

  The world narrowed down to just the two of them as he passed behind Court’s chair and came to a stop beside Courtney. The soft strains of an acoustic guitar came from somewhere, and he remembered the request he’d made of Paul. “Unchained Melody.” Letting the tune carry him back to their first dance, he silently held out his hand to her, and she took it. He drew her up and into his arms, eager to kiss her. She met him with a hint of hesitation, and then the fire between them flared and she kissed him back, with her whole heart. All he ever wanted.

  Eventually, the clearing of a throat broke through, and he reluctantly ended the kiss.

  “Say yes, Courtney. Please.”

  “Yes. But what’s the question?” A little smile playing around her lips teased him for forgetting his words.

  “Marry me.” Those were the only two words of his speech he remembered. “Please.”

  “Oh good lord,” Drew cried from the end of the table. “He forgot the speech!”

  “Shut up, Drew,” Courtney said. “Yes. Yes, I choose you, Ozichu.”

  Drew laughed the loudest, but everyone else broke into applause.

  “I forgot my speech,” Oswald told her.

  “No you didn’t. It’s all there, in your eyes and in your kiss. You didn’t forget a word,” his beautiful Courtney said. And in her eyes he saw the same.

  “The ring, Oswald.” Court’s reminder kicked Oswald in the gut.

  “I have something for you, but first, the ring.” He let go long enough to hold out his hand to Court who slapped a ring box into it. Holding the box with one hand, Courtney with the other, he told her, “Open it.”

  She used her free hand to open the box, still looking into his eyes.

  “Take a look. If you don’t like it, we can choose another.”

  “Doesn’t matter what it looks like. You picked it out; I love it.”

  Joy so large it filled not only his heart and soul, but the entire room, he kissed her hard, then let go to release the ring from its velvet bed. With shaking hands he slipped the three carat princess cut diamond set in eighteen karat gold onto her finger. Her hands shook as well until she finally looked down and gasped.

  “Oh, Ozzie, it’s perfect.”

  “Like you.”

  Courtney’s laugh sounded a little soggy, but she grinned enough to chase away the snow clouds gathering outside. “I’m not perfect.” She threw her arms around him and hugged him tight before pulling back to rub his chest. “What’s that?”

  For a moment his mind blanked out again. “Oh, right. Your engagement gift.”

  “The ring is more than gift enough.”

  “No it’s not. This one is even more special.” Reaching into his breast pocket, he pulled out another jeweler’s box, this one long and flat, and handed it to her.

  By now everyone in the room was straining to see, especially Randi at the far end of the table. Not a breath was heard as Courtney snapped open the lid.

  “Oh my…” Wide eyed, she ran her finger over the solid gold bracelet carefully secured on a bed of velvet. “Charms. It’s beautiful…Wait, is that Vauxhall Bridge? And…” Her mouth fell open as her finger touched a tiny pair of handcuffs.

  Oswald met her shocked eyes with laughter. He took the box from her and started pointing out the tiny charms, each one found or made to his exacting specifications. “Tower Bridge and the Golden Gate, those are obvious. A horse for Ascot, a hundred pound note for your winnings.”

  “A bee, also Ascot.” She grinned up at him, then looked back down. “Platform shoe, fancy dress, Ascot hat, Godiva chocolate box, mail trolley, earrings?”

  “Fancy dangling earrings,” he confirmed.

  “Punching bag, lipstick, champagne, a bird! Oh, Ozzie, it’s perfect!”

  “All right,” Randi said from behind Oswald. “We all want to see!”

  Courtney clutched the box to the front of her. “It’s mine.”

  Randi laughed. “Of course it’s yours, but I get to be nosy. What do the charms mean?” She gently tugged the box from her daughter’s hand.

  “Defining moments,” Oswald answered. “Each one represents a moment we shared that added to my love for Courtney.”

  How he loved the blush on her cheeks as Meilin and Mrs. Robinson joined the circle.

  “Handcuffs?” Randi asked. “When did handcuffs come into play, or do I want to know?”

  “The police, Mom. When they thought I was about to leap off Vauxhall Bridge, they handcuffed me for a short time,” Courtney answered and swiped the box back. “Ozzie, help me put this on.”

  “Handcuffs? Police? Vauxhall Bridge?” Court demanded as he pushed his chair back to join the fray.

  Courtney rolled her eyes and held out her wrist. Oswald concentrated on securing the clasp to hold the decorated chain on her wrist.

  “It’s a long story, Dad. Maybe I’ll tell it over dessert.”

  “Dessert!” Randi cried. “Who wants dessert when we have this for excitement?”

  “I want dessert,” Drew said, his words echoed by his younger cousins.

  Albert raised his hand. “I want to try the pumpkin pie.”

  Shaking his head, Oswald finally secured the clasp and turned the chain around to show her two charms secured together. One a heart, the other…

  “A Chine
se symbol?” Courtney asked “Do I need Meilin to tell me what it means?”

  Oswald cupped her cheeks, loving the sound of the charms tinkling as they moved on her wrist when she grasped his arms.

  “The character means forever. Which is how long you’ll have my heart.”

  The End

  See where the story began, with a special excerpt from

  Her Foreign Affair

  Twenty-two years ago, she ran out on the love of her life—and took a secret with her.

  When Randi Jean Ferguson fell for Courtland Robinson while studying abroad in London, she was ready for a life of tea and crumpets. But when she discovered Court was being forced into a shotgun wedding, there was no way she could stay—or tell him she was also pregnant with his child. Now widowed, Randi is just starting to consider finding Court—when he shows up at her door. With his son. Randi’s not ready to reveal everything to Court, but if she doesn’t, will both their children end up scarred?

  The best thing to come out of Court’s unhappy marriage was his son. But he’s spent the last twenty-two years thinking about Randi, his California girl, his first—and only—love. Now a widower, he takes a chance he’s only fantasized about and seeks her out. At last he’ll solve his heart’s greatest mystery—but that won’t be the only surprise in store for him.

  A Lyrical e-book on sale now.

  Learn more about Shea at

  http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/author.aspx/29498

  Prologue

  London, England

  Mid-late 1980s

  A soft spring breeze tugged a long curl from Randi Jean Dailey’s carefully styled up-do. She paid the cabbie his quid, stepped from the car with the help of the hotel doorman, and gave him a smile. The cabbie let out a satisfactory wolf-whistle before zipping back into London traffic.

  Jean’s heart pounded with excitement. Instead of climbing on the plane to go home after her semester abroad, she’d primped and polished and put on her perfect little black dress accented with proper pearls and sexy stilettos. The ones Court had bought for her two weeks prior. The ones that made her short legs look a mile long, he said. The black shoes she’d worn to seduce him last night. The ones that had driven him so mad with lust he’d made love to her all night long.

  With a long bittersweet kiss, they’d parted at noon. His promise to follow her to California as soon as he possibly could were the last words spoken between them.

  She adjusted the lace shawl around her shoulders and headed into the hotel where the Lynford International Importers new hire reception was being held. As an only-just-hired summer intern, she’d received her job acceptance and invitation to the reception shortly after Court had left her studio flat. The afternoon had been spent madly running around making arrangements to stay in England another three months. To start.

  But that wasn’t all the good news she had for Court. Instead of only the summer, she’d be extending her stay indefinitely. Forever. The thought made her dizzy with delight.

  Upon reaching the doors to the reception hall, Jean stopped and rested a hand over her abdomen. She had one more surprise for Court. One she prayed would thrill him to his bones. One that would give him the leverage to work around his father’s manipulations. Like the song from a few years before, their future was so bright, they’d both have to wear shades. A silly grin crossed her face as she started through the wide open doors.

  Soft string ensemble music drifted across the room. The event was exactly as Court had predicted. Proper Englishmen and their ladies talking quietly, mingling, as much to see as to be seen. For a week, he’d bemoaned the fact that instead of seeing her off at the airport, he had to attend this stuffy reception put on by his father’s company. Not interested in the décor, she searched the sea of bodies in semi-formal wear, looking for one particular blond head. The men wore sharp suits of worsted wool with silk ties, the women cocktail gowns in various levels of fashion and expense. The student interns and freshly graduated new hires were easy to pick out, by not only their youth, but by the less expensive clothing and the nervous smiles on their faces. Because Court’s family owned the company, she looked beyond the students and concentrated on the older attendees. The people Court had known since the day he’d been born.

  One bright head stood out. Danielle Richards, the hiring contact. If not for Danielle’s call hours before, Jean would have been boarding a plane just then. Jean headed for Danielle, who certainly knew Court and could help Jean find him. She merely had to work her way through to the other side of the large ballroom.

  Descending the steps into the crowd, she plowed ahead, exchanging nervous smiles with the three or four people she recognized from classes.

  Among the glittering bodies, various scents perfumed the air and queasiness assaulted Jean for a moment. Something that had never bothered her before the past week. She and Court figured she had a mild touch of flu, or possibly food poisoning like she’d had right after arriving in January. The call from the student clinic this afternoon had negated that theory.

  A glint of Danielle’s bright copper hair through the crowd assured Jean she was still on the right path. A few more steps and her gaze briefly met Danielle’s. Someone stepped in and cut off the line of sight before Jean could take a second look at what appeared to be mild alarm on the other woman’s face. Jean glanced behind her to see what might be happening that would cause the hiring director’s reaction. No, nothing unusual there. Jean pressed forward once again.

  Like the sun prying back a thick layer of dark clouds, she saw his golden blond hair through a parting of bodies. His back to her, he stood near Danielle, part of a circle of immaculately groomed men and women, a mix of older and younger.

  Finally, she eased past a knot of distinguished men and stood directly behind Court. On a deep breath, she assessed the situation. The group he stood with contained two older couples, important looking men and their society wives, all perfectly dressed and bejeweled. A younger woman with a sleek blond bob stood at Court’s left. Too close, but he came from people who knew people and had friends he’d been raised with. This could be one such. Across the small circle, Danielle was the only other person Jean recognized. A person who’d been friendly. Although the expression on Danielle’s face wasn’t exactly comforting.

  Court began to speak, and Jean was able to hear him clearly, see clearly as his left arm came up to encircle the waist of the blond woman at his side, the action surprising her. If his shoulders looked a bit stiff, the movement a tad forced, she seemed to be the only one who noticed.

  “Danielle, I’d like you to be among the first to know, Bea and I will be married next weekend. There isn’t time for formal invitations,”—his chuckle was forced—“we’re expecting, however, we’d love you to attend.”

  The timbre was Court’s, but the tone and the words couldn’t be his. Dizziness surged in Jean’s head. She took a step back and clamped both hands over her now roiling stomach. The air had evaporated from the room and darkness framed the edges of her vision.

  “Court…” Danielle said, doing her best to keep her face clear of emotion. Jean could see it, could hear the strain, as the other woman’s electric blue gaze locked on her.

  Jean swallowed against rising nausea and took another step back, bumping into someone’s chilled glass of something. The shock of cold liquid dribbling down her back froze her in place.

  In an almost dreamlike parody of slow motion, Court’s arm dropped from the woman, and he slowly turned. Jean’s gaze flew to his face as it came into view. His skin took on an ashen cast, as his eyes widened above his slackening jaw. For a long moment, it was all she could see.

  “Courtland?” The sharply spoken word from the blond woman broke the spell. “What is it, darling?”

  Jean’s breath rushed back into her starved lungs, and her heart jolted into triple time, rushing adrenalin into her system. It was the spark she needed to turn on her heel and push through the crowd. />
  “Jean!”

  She heard him call after her. Heard Danielle call after her, but didn’t stop. Escape was the one thought in her head. Later she’d think about Court’s announcement. But now there was room for only one instinct pounding through her veins. Run.

  Snippets of his history came to her as she forced her way past people now expressing their shock at her rudeness. The girl he’d practically been engaged to since they’d been in nappies. The horrible break up days before Jean had tripped him in the library. The stories of his family and how he was expected to take over the business one day, like generations of Lynfords and Robinsons before.

  Above all, the vision she couldn’t reconcile with the words he’d just said, Court’s face smiling down at her. His voice saying, “I love you. I’ll come for you. We’ll have a wonderful life.”

  As she broke through the edge of the crowd and rushed into the lobby, she thought she heard Court call out her name one more time, but from a distance. She didn’t look back. Couldn’t look back. Adrenalin pounding through her veins powered her forward. A doorman opened the heavy outer door.

  “Miss?”

  His enquiry went unacknowledged as she rushed by, headed for the cab parked at the curb.

  “Taxi!” she called out.

  Surprised, the doorman who’d recently helped her from a cab, leaped to open the door for her.

  “Miss? Everything all right?”

  She shook her head and climbed into the cab.

  “Where to, miss?”

  “Home.” It was all she could think of. She could be at Heathrow in a few hours where she’d wait until a seat opened on a plane headed for New York. From New York she’d get a plane to San Francisco. There, she’d figure it all out.

  “Where’s home, miss?”

  “Away from here.” Tears blurring her vision, she met the cabbie’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “Just drive.” No one had followed her out the door. Especially not Court. His words echoing in her head tore her heart to shreds. The cabbie turned around and slowly eased into traffic.