by Sharon Booth
Chapter Two
Chessingborough House was a sixteenth century manor, tastefully converted into a beautiful country hotel. Standing in almost twenty acres of grounds, its honey-coloured stone and mullioned windows made it the perfect setting for a celebrity wedding. The fact that it had forty guest bedrooms, a spa, and a Michelin star restaurant, had ensured it had hosted its fair share of them.
Even so, as Emerald Carmichael entered through the impressive front door, glancing around her at the ancient panelling on the walls and noting the deep pile carpet that was so soft beneath her feet that she felt as if she were walking on cushions, she thought that, really, Honey could have shown more imagination.
Then again, she conceded, what more could she expect from Daddy's spoilt little princess? It was clichéd and predictable, just like her half-sister. And to sell the whole event to a tacky magazine! Honey was a media whore, with no taste and no self-respect. Now, if Emerald was in charge of organising this wedding, she would have done things very differently. Of course, she was relieved she hadn't been asked to plan the wedding, or to be a bridesmaid, or to be involved in any way whatsoever with the wedding. Honey was very lucky that she'd agreed to attend at all. It had been a last-minute decision, taken merely to shut her mother up.
'You can't be the only one of Cain's children not attending! Even Jed and Scarlet are coming back from America to be there. And I'll bet my last penny that Marcus goes. Marcus! I won't have it, Emerald. You belong there far more than that boy does.'
Marcus was a sore point with her mother, Cassandra, as Cain had still been married to her when his fling with a pub waitress called Sandy had resulted in Marcus's birth. That had caused the end of that marriage, and Cassandra had never forgiven Sandy, nor Marcus, come to that. Emerald thought Cassandra had asked for it. She was a very whiny woman, who always saw the worst in people. Emerald could see why Cain had looked elsewhere for some fun. She had long suspected that her mother wouldn't have minded half so much if he hadn't gone looking for it in a Steak 'n' Bake pub. According to the company website, you could get a three-course meal in those places for less than a tenner, which said it all, as far as Cassandra was concerned.
The reception hall was a hive of activity, and Emerald hovered uncertainly, car keys clutched in her hand. A long queue snaked towards the desk, and a harassed looking receptionist was battling to deal with the clamouring guests. Emerald began to panic. If she wasn't shown to her room within the next few minutes, her chakras were in danger of becoming unaligned, and she wasn't having that. Not when it had taken her the best part of a week to get them sorted. It was all the stress of having to attend this damn event. She wasn't the celebrity type. She was a simple girl at heart, after all, and all the superficial trappings of fame didn't suit her in the slightest.
'Can I 'elp you with that bag?'
Upon hearing the broad northern accent, Emerald glanced round, her eyes widening as she caught sight of a tall, dark-haired man, smiling kindly at a woman who was struggling with a valise. Good grief, the lady was positively ancient, and if she was so frail she couldn't manage a small bag like that, she really shouldn't be out on her own. She didn't seem to be the slightest bit grateful, either. She shook her head and clutched the bag to her drooping bosom quite defensively.
'Certainly not! I'm perfectly capable, thank you,' she said, in a cut glass accent, eyeing the man with suspicion.
He shrugged but left her to it and strolled towards the reception, carrying someone's overnight bag. Emerald felt some relief. At least she could get the car sorted, if she would have to wait a bit longer for a room.
'Excuse me? My keys.' Emerald held out the car keys and waited for him to take them. 'There are three bags in the boot. It's the cobalt blue coupé outside. Please, be careful.'
He stared at her, and she found herself staring back. It was hard not to gape at him, to be truthful. He was an extremely attractive man. Those black-brown eyes were quite mesmerising, and those raven curls ... She swallowed. Good heavens, what was she thinking? She'd be trawling for men in a Steak 'n' Bake at this rate. Her mother would be appalled.
'My keys,' she repeated, rattling them in his face.
'Happen they are. Are you telling me that for a reason, or do you allus mither on about nowt?'
Emerald gaped at him. She wasn't sure what he'd just said, but she had a feeling he hadn't been entirely complimentary. 'Can you park my car, or not?'
His eyebrows knitted together. 'Why would I want to park your car? It's taken me best part of ten minutes to park me own. Flaming place is heaving. Didn't you pass your test, or summat?'
'Well! How bloody rude!' He'd hit a nerve there. It had taken her eight attempts to pass her driving test, and parking wasn't her strong point. Despite her indignation, she had to admit he looked rather handsome as he scrutinised her, a stern expression on his face. She had a funny feeling he could be quite firm with her, if he chose. It wasn't an altogether unpleasant thought.
'I'm so sorry to keep you waiting.' The receptionist, wearing an apologetic expression, finally dealt with the last guest in the queue before her, and turned to them, forcing her to look away from the porter, or car parking attendant, or whatever the hell he was. 'It's quite busy here, I'm afraid, what with our grand event. You're here for the wedding, I presume? Double room was it?' he enquired, smiling at the dark-haired man beside her.
Emerald blushed. It would be rather interesting to share a room with this northerner for a short while and find out exactly how firm he could be. The fact that the receptionist didn't recognise her, though, rankled. And, anyway, why hadn't he recognised the porter? Probably temporary staff, hired for the wedding, she supposed.
'I'm not with her!' The man in question sounded quite put out, and Emerald's temper flared. She should be the one who was offended, after all.
'Of course he's not. He works here!' she snapped.
'I don't bloody work here,' he protested. 'What the hell gave you that idea?'
She was about to say, your accent, but thought better of it. She didn't want to be accused of racism, of all things. 'Then why did you try to take that old woman's bag?' she demanded.
The receptionist eyed him, a definite trace of suspicion in his face. 'You tried to take someone's bag?'
'I bloody didn't. I asked her if she wanted a hand, that's all. I were being polite. Not that she were having any of it. I shouldn't have bothered.'
'A likely story,' Emerald said, still smarting from his vehement rebuffal.
'I'm not so sure,' admitted the receptionist. 'Was she small, wearing a blue hat and carrying a paisley valise?'
The man nodded.
'Positively ancient,' added Emerald, 'and with an alarmingly droopy bosom. Practically swept the carpet as she walked.'
The receptionist sighed. 'Yes, I know the person you mean. She wouldn't thank you for trying to help. And she won't part with that bag. Takes it everywhere. Goodness knows what she's got in there.'
'Who is she?' It sounded to Emerald as if the ungrateful old woman was carrying around a fortune.
'I couldn't possibly say.' The receptionist gave her a smug grin. 'Anyway, back to business. I apologise for the delay. What name is it?'
Humiliation made Emerald snap, particularly when she spotted a huge board saying Wedding of Theodore Scotman and Honey Carmichael. No doubt the receptionist knew damn well who Honey was. 'Emerald Carmichael, sister of the bride. And before you do anything else, you can get someone to park my car, and collect my luggage. Honestly, this is supposed to be a five-star hotel. It's a disgrace, and I shall make that point very forcefully in my review.'
'I'm sorry, Miss Carmichael. I'll rectify the situation, immediately. Ah, Robert!' The receptionist smiled in evident relief as a man in a smart black suit appeared at the desk. 'This lady's car needs parking, and her bags need to be retrieved.'
'Straight away, miss. Car keys?'
Emerald handed them over with some reluctance. He looked awfully young.
She supposed they had checked that he'd got a valid licence? 'It's the cobalt blue coupé just outside,' she told him.
Nodding, he backed away from her. She took a few steps towards him. 'Be careful, it's quite new, and there's not a mark on it.' It's not mine, she thought, and I can't lose the deposit from the car rental firm.
He gave her a reassuring smile, turned and headed towards the door. Emerald half followed him, then thought better of it. 'I shall be checking it over!' she called, as he ran down the steps. Turning back to the desk, she felt an odd pang of regret as she noticed that the dark-haired man had already been attended to and was striding towards the stairs. Evidently, he saw no need of lifts. No wonder he looked so fit, she mused. His thighs, straining against those dark trousers, were quite muscular. She'd bet he looked even better without the trousers on. She gave a little shake of her head as the receptionist handed her a key card.
'The Coleridge Suite, Miss Carmichael. I'll have your bags sent up to you. If you wait a moment, I'll get someone to show you the way.'
'No need. I'll take her.'
Emerald's heart thudded as a scrawny arm was draped over her shoulders, and she peered up into a pair of watery blue eyes, rimmed with black kohl.
'Very good, Mr Carmichael.' The receptionist practically bowed.
'Emerald, me darling. Great to see you. It's been ages.' Cain sounded as sincere as a dodgy timeshare salesman. Emerald's eyes narrowed as he forced a smile. No change there then.
'Hello, Daddy.'
'Let's go upstairs and you can get yourself ready, then I'll take you to see Honey. She can't wait to see you.'
Emerald scowled as Cain began to lead her towards the lift. The truth was, it was hard to say who would be least pleased to see her — her father or her sister. It was too close to call.
****
'Room service.'
Eden's heart leapt in recognition at the sound of his voice. She would know it anywhere, no matter how much he was trying to disguise it. She threw open the door, laughing. 'You're here!'
'I'm here.' Eliot didn't even bother to shut the door behind him. He hurled his overnight bag across the room and pulled her to him. His kiss told her how much he'd missed her, and she melted against him for a moment, allowing herself to surrender to the inevitable chemistry between them. Then she remembered and forced herself to back away.
He looked hurt. 'What's up?'
'This.' She waved a hand, indicating her bridesmaid dress, immaculate makeup, and coiffured hair. 'If I mess this up, Honey will kill me. And it would be very easy to mess this up, trust me. I mean, look at you! God, I'll bet I already have a rash from your stubble, haven't I?'
Eliot looked her up and down, and she saw the expression in his face change.
'What is it?' she asked, suddenly nervous.
'You look, er ...'
'Beautiful? Luscious? Exquisite?'
'Different.'
'Oh, well, thanks for that. I feel irresistible now.'
He pushed the door shut and leaned against it, surveying her. 'I don't mean that in a bad way. I mean, you always look gorgeous, no matter what. But, well...'
'Well, what?'
'Oh, come on, Eden,' he burst out. 'What the hell have they done to you?'
She giggled. 'I know. I don't look like me, do I? And my hair, for God's sake!'
'It's a bit — structured.'
'With half a can of hairspray on it, it should be. So, don't you like me looking so elegant?'
His lips curved into a knowing smile. 'I prefer you a bit more natural.'
'I'll bet you do.' They stared at each other, desire sparking between them. Eden swallowed. 'You'd better start getting ready. The shower's through there, and your suit's hanging in the wardrobe. I'll have to get back to Honey's suite. She's a bag of nerves.'
'Aren't you going to wait until I've changed?' he asked, his voice husky.
She shook her head. 'No chance. The minute I see you in that tuxedo, I'm going to want to pounce on you. You know it and I know it, and I can't mess this outfit or my hair up.' He sighed, and her lips twitched. 'Mind you...'
He shot her a hopeful look. 'What?'
'Once I've done my official duties, there's going to be no reason that we can't sneak back up here and spend a bit of time away from the party. I mean, I can soon brush my hair and reapply my makeup. You know — afterwards,' she teased. 'Once the photos are done, who'll care?' She saw the gleam in his eyes and grinned. 'Deal?'
'I'll hold you to it,' he promised.
'You'd better.' She kissed him. 'Now, have you done your homework?'
He groaned. 'No, I bloody haven't. You weren't serious, were you?'
'If you know who's who and what's what, it will make things much easier for you,' she assured him. 'Where's that card I gave you?'
Eliot shrugged. 'Left it at home.'
She grinned. 'Thought you might. Lucky I have a copy here, isn't it?' She hurried over to the bedside cabinet and pulled a piece of paper from the drawer.
Eliot scowled.as she handed it to him. 'How's anyone supposed to keep track of this bloody lot?' he demanded, seeing the long list of names and complicated family relationships in the Carmichael family.
'Exactly,' she said. 'Which is why you need to revise. Go on, read it, 'cos I'll be testing you in a minute.'
'Bloody hell, you're strict. Now I know how our Ophelia felt the other night when you made her do her maths revision instead of watching a film. I told her off for whingeing an' all, poor kid.' He shook his head, surveying the paper gloomily. 'Why do I need to know all Cain's wives? Surely they won't all be here?'
'No, but all his children will be, and you don't want to give them the wrong mothers, do you?'
'I won't be speaking to any of them anyway!'
'Yes, you will. What if they approach you? Wouldn't you feel better knowing who you were talking to?'
She could see on his face that he didn't give a monkey's who he was talking to and had little intention of making conversation at all, but she persisted in her belief that forewarned was forearmed. 'Ready?' she said at last.
'As I'll ever be,' he muttered.
'So, Cain Carmichael has been married three times. Who are his wives?'
'Katherine of Aragon, Anne Boleyn and Jane Seymour.'
'Eliot! Be serious.'
He rolled his eyes. 'Lowri, Cassandra and Freya.'
'Oh, well done!'
'Throw me a bloody fish, why don't you? Feel like a performing seal.'
She laughed. 'You are grumpy! Now, who is the mother of his one illegitimate child?'
She saw him squinting at the paper in his hand and bit her lip in amusement.
'Er, Sandy.'
'Correct. Now, name all five of his children.'
'Really?' Eliot groaned. 'Do I have to?'
'There'll be a bonus in it for you,' she said, giving him a meaningful look.
'That's not fair,' he protested. 'All right, all right. Well, Honey for starters, obviously. And then there's them twins, whose names I can't remember. And Emerald. And — and Marcus?'
'Yes, but the twins are the eldest. They're Lowri's children and have lived in America for years. Jed and Scarlet. Scarlet's an actress, married to an actor called Luke, and Jed's a musician. Then there's Emerald, who is Cassandra's daughter, Marcus who is Sandy's daughter, and Honey is the youngest. You know Freya, her mother, of course.'
They exchanged uncomfortable glances. Freya was, after all, related to Jemima.
'Anyway,' she continued, 'do you know who's the best man?'
'No idea and couldn't care less.'
She sighed. 'Right. I'll reel this off once only, so listen. Honey is marrying Theodore — Teddy — Scotman. Teddy's father is Rex Scotman who used to be a star in the seventies and is Cain's big rival. Seriously, there's no love lost there so whatever you do, don't sing one's praises to the other.'
He gave her a withering look. 'Am I likely to?'
She had to admit he wasn't. 'Ma
rcus and Jed are ushers. The best man is one of Teddy's university friends.' She looked stricken. 'Gosh, I can't remember his name!'
'You failed then,' Eliot told her. 'Happen test is over.'
She folded her arms. 'Anyone would think you weren't interested.'
'I know,' he mused. 'Funny that.'
'All right,' she said, winking at him, 'we'll leave it there. I have to go anyway.'
'Really?'
'I'll see you downstairs,' she promised. 'The Barrett Browning Room, four o'clock. Make sure you're there at least ten minutes early. Don't worry, you won't be able to miss it, and there'll be plenty of people and notices to guide you.'
He nodded, looking unsure.
Her heart melted. She knew this wasn't his type of thing at all, and she appreciated him making the effort for her. 'It will be fine. Promise. I love you. Happy Valentine's Day, sweetheart.'
'Happy Valentine's Day, my love. See you down there then.'
They stared at each other for a moment, then he cleared his throat. 'You'd better go,' he said gruffly, 'or I won't be responsible for my actions, posh frock or no bloody posh frock.'
She laughed and left the room, closing the door behind her.
Honey was in the Wordsworth Suite on the next floor and, as Eden walked in, the overpowering smell of hairspray, perfume and makeup hit her. Four women getting ready in its confined space had left their mark in the atmosphere.
A little boy in velvet knickerbockers and a ruffled shirt was sitting on the carpet, watching cartoons on the fifty-inch television.
'Okay, Justin?'
He nodded and smiled at her, and she patted him on the head, thinking how remarkable it was that such a sweet, quiet child could be Cain's grandson and Honey's nephew.
Scarlet, Honey's oldest sister, was sitting on the bed, reapplying her lip gloss for what must have been the hundredth time. She was a television star in America — that is, she appeared in some soap opera there, which, in her own mind, at least, put her on a par with Jennifer Aniston. The fact that no one in Britain appeared to have heard of her was neither here nor there. She'd been positively gushing towards Honey all day, which had annoyed the already nervous bride-to-be, and baffled Eden. It was, after all, the first time that the two half-sisters had met in person, and there was such a thing as over-familiarity. But then again, Scarlet had been brought up in America, and didn't have that English reserve.