The Accidental Bride (Black Lace)

by Portia Da Costa

  It’s idyllic. If this is ‘entertaining’, I could do it every weekend.

  But not next weekend. A trickle of unease ran through her. John was wonderful, but meeting parents was meeting parents. Still, her father’s birthday party was a far less daunting prospect than any future visit to Montcalm, even though she’d be subject to cross-questioning by just about everybody at her parents’ house: her father, her mother, her sisters Nikki and Judy, and her grandparents – and probably most of her aunts and uncles and her father’s friends and colleagues too.

  But, having survived that, would she go to Montcalm any time soon? And as what? Friend? Girlfriend? More than that? Best not to dwell on it. Just face things when they arose … That made better sense.

  Even though they were beneath the canopy now, the beating sun was warm. But still Lizzie shivered.

  ‘Are you OK, love?’

  She turned and discovered John watching her, sunglasses dangling from his fingertips.

  ‘Yes … fine … In fact, better than fine. This is lovely, isn’t it?’ She made a sweeping gesture, encompassing the pool, the people, the laughter.

  ‘It is, and I told you so.’ John leant over and kissed her cheek. ‘But you shivered just now. You’re not cold, are you?’

  ‘It’s nothing. I was just thinking about visiting my parents again. I mean … I know it’ll all be fine, but I’m still nervous, you know?’

  The kiss turned into a hug, body contact for reassurance. The dizzying deliciousness of John’s cologne was enough to distract anyone from their worries.

  ‘We’ll be fine. We’ll be together,’ he said simply.

  And Lizzie felt better.

  They lay back on their loungers for a while, watching the ‘game’. Lizzie was just wondering about attacking the buffet and scoring some of Mrs T’s mouth-watering barbecued chicken, when Thursgood approached John from inside the house.

  ‘There’s a phone call for you, sir. I would have taken a message, but it’s Mrs Pemberton, so I thought you’d like to take it.’

  Lizzie shot up on the lounger. Pemberton. Wasn’t that John’s ex-wife’s name?

  John didn’t actually frown, but he looked puzzled. ‘That’s fine, Thursgood. I’ll take it in the office.’

  None of my business. None of my business.

  But when John leapt lightly to his feet, he turned, and offered his hand to her, drawing her up. He didn’t speak, but he seemed to be expecting her to come with him to take the call.

  ‘It’s OK.’ She tried to demur. ‘I’m sure you’ve got lots to talk about with Caroline.’

  ‘Probably, yes,’ he said easily, his fingers firm on her hand, insistent. ‘But nothing that can’t be said in front of you, sweetheart.’ When she got up, he flung an arm around her waist and urged her along with him as he headed for indoors, and the office.

  ‘This’ll be a nice chance for you to say “hello”, Lizzie. Caroline is a wonderful woman, and I’m sure you’ll get on famously.’ He gave her a sparkling smile. ‘And after all, you’ve met one member of my family today, so you might as well meet another … sort of. Don’t be scared.’

  But as they entered the office, to take the call, she shivered again. Easy for him to say!

  12

  The Former Mrs Smith

  ‘Caro! How are you? How nice to hear from you again so soon. Nothing amiss, I hope?’

  As he pressed the button for speakerphone, there was a hint of wariness in John’s voice that Lizzie hadn’t expected. She knew he was fond of his ex-wife, and she didn’t begrudge him the bond he must still have with Caroline, but she had the strangest feeling that something else was bothering him, something else that might be related to Caroline. Or might not.

  ‘No, nothing amiss, John, darling. Sorry to call you out of the blue like this. I do hope this isn’t an inconvenient time?’

  The high-end phone had a crystal clear speaker, and the voice that issued from it was low and warm, with not quite a cut-glass accent but refined in a gentle sort of way. If Lizzie hadn’t known Caroline was seventy, she’d have pinned her as a much younger woman.

  ‘Not at all. Not at all. Just enjoying a quiet weekend party, with Lizzie and a few friends. Tom’s here too.’ He glanced at Lizzie, nodding. ‘Lizzie’s here with me now, by the way. We have you on the speaker.’

  Panic whirled. Goodness, she’d have to speak to John’s ex now. Obviously she was nice, but still.

  ‘Hello, my dear,’ said Caroline. ‘I’m so sorry to interrupt your party like this. I do hope you don’t mind. I …’ The older woman hesitated. ‘I was hoping to drop in and see you and John this afternoon. We’re over for a few days, and Ralph is at some dreary regimental reunion thing. I’m only about twenty minutes’ drive away, but if you’re entertaining, I wouldn’t dream of intruding.’

  Lizzie didn’t stop to think. ‘Oh, please, do come! It’s only a casual pool party thing. With a bit of barbecue and a few beers and a bit of wine and swimming and stuff, but you’re more than welcome. Please come. We’d love you to join us.’

  John slid his arm around her waist in a fierce hug, and he kissed the side of her face. Thanks, love, he mimed, smiling.

  From the other end of the line, Caroline laughed. ‘Well, I’m not sure about the swimming, but a glass of wine and some barbecue sounds perfect. I’d love to join you. Thank you so much for asking me.’

  ‘That’s wonderful, Caro. We’ll see you soon, then,’ said John. ‘Do you have directions?’

  ‘Oh yes, we’ll find you. We have satnav, of course, and Fenton has the navigational instincts of a homing pigeon. He can find any place, anywhere. I’ll see you in about twenty minutes, then, darlings. So looking forward to meeting you, Lizzie. Ciao!’

  The line went dead. Oh, crikey. What to do now? Lizzie felt like she had to ‘do something’, make some special preparation – but what?

  Oh hell, I’m going to meet John’s ex-wife!

  ‘Don’t worry! Don’t worry!’ John’s arm tightened around her, and he guided her to the sofa that was set in a bay-window niche.

  ‘Of course I have to worry,’ she shot back at him. ‘It’s your ex-wife, John! How can I not be nervous?’

  He cupped her jaw with his fingers and made her look at him, gentle, but firm. Very firm. ‘I understand, love, really I do. Would you believe that I’ve sometimes felt a bit nervous around Brent? Because he knew you first, and loved you.’

  She’d wondered. Yes, she’d wondered. ‘But you’re fine with him now? I mean, today … It’s been great, hasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, he’s a good guy, and I’m glad he’s with Tom.’ He laughed. ‘I’m over my insecurities now.’

  Lizzie twisted in his grip, and quickly kissed his hand. ‘The difference is, I was never married to Brent. You and Caroline must have been much closer.’

  ‘Yes … and no. What we had was good, but predicated by so many different issues. It was hardly ever a simple “boy meets girl”, believe me.’ He looked away for a moment, a frown pleating his brow. ‘And there’re complications. Well, a complication. One that I’ve not told you about yet.’

  What complications? What?

  ‘What do you mean?’ Lizzie’s heart fluttered. John’s face was so tense now, stressed. For once he looked his age. ‘Is it something you can tell me about now?’

  John slid his hand down her arm, and then took both her hands in both of his. ‘Yes. In fact, I must tell you now, even though it’ll seem very weird to you. Downright peculiar, to be honest. But I have to tell you now that Caroline’s on her way. I wouldn’t want you to be embarrassed, not knowing.’

  What the fuck is it, John?

  ‘OK. Lay it on me,’ she said quietly, bracing herself.

  ‘I blame myself. I should have told you sooner. Who Caroline is.’ He pursed his lips, then seemed to brace up, stiffen his spine. ‘Hell, there’s no way of making this sound less weird than it actually is.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Caroline is Clara’s mother, Lizzie.
In a nutshell, I went from the daughter, to the mother, then the daughter again. When Clara wasn’t there after prison and the army, and when Ben and I parted … Well, Caroline was there, and she was warm and kind and she made her offer. And we got married.’

  Lizzie mind whirled. Clara? Bloody Clara again … and her mother?

  John heaved a big sigh. ‘I knew it. You’re revolted, aren’t you? You think I’m a creep and a pervert. Some kind of bed-hopping sex addict freak who jumps from one woman, to her mother … and then back again. I knew it would hurt you!’ His blue eyes were full of agony.

  Still reeling, Lizzie got a grip on herself, and a firm grip on John’s hands too. It was hard to take in, this new revelation. Difficult to get her head around. But he was also exaggerating, making it sound sordid. She didn’t know the full details, but she knew enough about John to know it wasn’t really like that. The damned bitch Clara, he’d loved her deeply and she’d hurt him and betrayed him. Who knew what anybody would do in circumstances like those? What would she have done? If she’d lost John, sought comfort elsewhere … and then seen a chance to be with him again?

  ‘But you said Caroline was a friend of your mother’s?’

  ‘She was. She still is, despite everything.’ He looked away for a moment again, towards the window. ‘And she was there for me when Clara wasn’t. When Clara had cleared off, Caroline was an angel, kind and gracious. We’d always flirted in a light-hearted way, but we became closer friends, and it developed into something deeper. I was alone. I’d failed in the army. Ben was in a new relationship. Caroline saw that we could be good for each other, and that was when she made her offer, the bargain we struck.’

  ‘Yikes.’

  ‘Yikes indeed.’

  ‘And after you and Caroline split up … then Clara came back? Had she just been biding her time? Waiting for your marriage to end?’ Had her Nemesis decided to claim what was hers, perhaps to thumb her nose at her own mother? God, what kind of woman was Clara?

  John’s face hardened. ‘I don’t know. I really don’t know. Perhaps she was biding her time, but not to be with me. I was a “filler” man until her next target became free. I think it amused her mightily that I’d been with her mother. She’s always been stupidly competitive with Caroline. I suppose she thought she’d “stolen me back”, even though it was because of Ralph that Caroline and I parted amicably.’

  The pit of Lizzie’s stomach went cold. She was sure of her love for John, and sure that he loved her too. But this woman from his past was a piece of work, a force to be reckoned with.

  What if she decides she really wants him again? What if she takes it into her head to steal him back from me? Just to see if she can do it …

  ‘What’s wrong?’ John was staring at her, scanning her face, monitoring signs and interpreting them.

  ‘I … Well, it’s just a bit of shock … Caroline and all that. And Clara …’

  John slid his hands around her hands again, raised them to his lips and kissed them. ‘I should have told you this sooner, shouldn’t I? When we were on holiday, and talking and sharing. I should have been more open then.’

  Yes, he probably should. But they’d already come a long, long way in a relatively short time. When they’d first played their escort and punter games at the Waverley, she’d never expected to discover any of his mysteries. She’d barely even known that he had any.

  ‘Yes, you should. But you’re a man with a lot of baggage, John. No matter how honest you want to be, I guess it’s just not … practical … to just dollop it out all at once.’ She gave him a level look. ‘You have to dispense it in manageable portions.’

  ‘You make me sound rather clinical. Calculating.’ John tipped his head on one side, looking a little sad.

  ‘No, not that. Not really. But I know you have to have a cool head to do what you do, and be successful. You wouldn’t be who you are, otherwise, would you?’

  A shadow-play of emotion passed across his face. Were calculations being performed now? Was he thinking of some way for them to get past this difficult moment?

  ‘True.’ He touched his tongue to the centre of his lower lip. It was an unconscious act, but it always got her going. Despite everything, despite Clara and the weirdness and the imminent arrival of Caroline, she wanted him.

  ‘I can’t help but feel this makes you think less of me somehow.’ He frowned. His hands felt tense around hers.

  ‘No. Don’t be idiotic. Of course not,’ she cried. ‘It’s a bit odd, admittedly, but it’s life, isn’t it?’ She drew in a deep breath. ‘You’d have to do something pretty damned horrific to put me off you. You know that, don’t you, you dummy? The slack I’m prepared to cut you measures in light years.’

  Men! Even the strongest and most über-alpha dominant ones were subject to self-doubt. She had to show him it didn’t mean a thing. Even if it did.

  Plunging forward, she planted a kiss on his lips. A tactic that always worked.

  And it did this time, because when she drew away, the shadows across John’s face had become a smile. The smile. The golden smile.

  Bingo! She dived forward for another kiss and this time got one back, John ascendant. His hands rose to her face, cradling it, holding her, compelling her with his lips and tongue. Her own tongue answered, duelling. All the molecules of her body stirred, primed by him in the space of a few heartbeats.

  No! This was mad! Caroline would be here any minute.

  Yes, said her body, and her heart, speaking to his.

  ‘We shouldn’t,’ she gasped, without the slightest bit of sincerity.

  ‘Oh yes, we should,’ he replied, kissing again, hard. ‘Or at least I should.’ His blue eyes were bright and sly as he parted their mouths and he looked at her. ‘You don’t have to do anything, my goddess; I’m the one who owes you. So I’ll do the giving.’

  ‘But the party …’ she began, a token protest.

  ‘There’s nothing to worry about. The party is perfect and you’re perfect. And you need something to take your mind off my stupid torrid past and the idiotic things I’ve done. I need to do something to relax you.’

  Devil! He didn’t have to say what. The way he looked her up and down, his gaze gravitating suggestively towards her loins as he flicked out his rosy tongue, said it all.

  ‘Oh, no you don’t. Don’t go there, John. There’s no time. I’ll be all flustered.’

  What a little liar she was. She didn’t care now if his entire family were heading up the drive in a fleet of limousines, Marquess of Welbeck included.

  She made a just-for-show attempt to pull away, but his hand was firm around hers, and she couldn’t help but laugh. That smile, that wicked tongue of his, they were all he needed to prime her engine and start a process with only one resolution.

  ‘You’ll look even more beautiful if you’re flustered.’ He lunged forward and gave her a ferocious kiss, owning her, goading her, exacerbating her madness.

  I should resist. This is bonkers. How long have we got? Fifteen … twenty minutes?

  But the motor was running now, and that madness was let slip like the dogs of crazy lust. She could no sooner turn back now, than stop breathing. What the hell …? Shelley’s face had been awfully pink when she and Sholto had emerged from the cabana.

  If Shell can steal a quickie, so can I!

  ‘It’s all right. I won’t mess you up or do anything to spoil your pretty clothes,’ murmured John, sliding his hand down over her breast and squeezing her through the colourful cotton of her dress, and the light summer basque she wore beneath it.

  ‘You’d better not,’ she growled, remembering a time when he’d made a similar promise, in his room, at the Waverley. And he hadn’t either, apart from the necessity of buying herself a new pair of knickers from the hotel boutique.

  I love you, whatever you’ve done, you evil sex-monster!

  Yes, an evil sex-monster who looked like a gilded angel from the hosts on high; although angels didn’t usually lick
their plush, sensual lips in such a downright provocative and lewdly suggestive way.

  He kissed her again, letting his lips travel from her mouth, to a tender spot beneath her ear, then down to her throat. Dipping down, he kissed her collar-bone, then as deeply into her cleavage as he could get, tongue stroking and teasing.

  ‘What are you doing, you beast?’ she demanded as he kissed his way down her inner arm, even though she had a shrewd suspicion. His mouth moved from the crook of her elbow to her wrist, and then, in a sudden flourish, he sank to his knees in front of where she sat, and grabbed her right ankle and kissed that too, then her calf, and then … ooh, the inside of her knee, pushing the full froth of her petticoats out of the way as he went.

  Oh dear God … Yes!

  ‘John, you mustn’t!’ she cried, knowing he’d translate it quite correctly as, Yes, yes, yes, John, you must!

  ‘Yes, indeed I must,’ he said, as if he had one of those universal gadgets from Star Trek. ‘Now, let’s get your knickers off so I can get my face between those fabulous thighs of yours, and lick your cunt until you completely forget every terrible thing I’ve ever told you about myself.’ His eyes flashed, sapphire, sky, ocean. ‘Come on, woman, hurry up! Let me at you!’

  ‘You’re outrageous!’ She tugged at his hair, more play than threat, teasing a beautiful golden curl between the tips of her fingers. But setting him free, she reached down and snuck her fingers into the elastic of her knickers and started to tweak at them.

  John completed the task, slithering them down her thighs, over her knees and off over her ankles, without even hooking them on her shoes. Oh, he was so clever!

  He didn’t speak, but his eyes and his smile were a litany of seduction and wickedness. Without hesitating, he plunged in, plying his way through her bush, then parting her labia.