The Accidental Bride (Black Lace)

by Portia Da Costa

  He knew what he had to do. He knew what he wanted to do, and needed to do. But still, it was a huge step. He gambled with millions in his business life, but it never felt like this. The only sure, steady anchor was Lizzie’s arm tucked in his, and her warm, fragrant presence at his side. He smiled at her, more to reassure himself than her. She was his confidence.

  He was in turmoil. Good turmoil in a way, but even so.

  ‘That all went well,’ said Lizzie, her smile bright. She was shaken up too, despite her composed demeanour, and the gracious, natural way she’d just said farewell to Caroline.

  Her smile made him smile. God, he was so proud of her. He always was, but today more than most days. With awesome poise, she’d met two very important people in his life, and they’d both loved her, instantly. She’d shown no nerves and no uncertainty, even though he knew she’d been feeling both.

  A beautiful, easy-going hostess, she’d helped everyone enjoy themselves. He was the one who’d felt awkward, always fighting his rampaging desire for her, all through the afternoon. Never had his powers of self-control been taxed so hard. Was that why he was in such an idiotic stew now?

  ‘It was a wonderful day, love, and you were amazing.’ He spun her round and kissed her. They had serious issues to confront, heavy ‘stuff’. But his mind and his body shied away from that, zeroing in on unfinished business that was easier and simpler. He could still imagine the luscious taste of her pussy. He wanted to taste it again, and do much, much more, even though he knew that plunging into sex now was just a way, albeit a very beautiful way, of avoiding thornier discussions.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Smith. You weren’t so bad yourself. Everybody had a great time, especially Brent and Shelley and Sholto. Thank you for putting them at their ease.’ She kissed him back, playful nibbles around the edge of his mouth. Oh, God love her, she was right on the same page. Going for the sexy stuff, just like him.

  ‘And you made Caroline love you. I knew you would. Thank you for being so kind to her. It must have been awkward any number of times over.’

  Lizzie gave him a steady look. ‘It was easy. She’s a lovely woman. I really like her.’

  He knew other words were on the tip of her tongue, but either through tact, or perhaps anxiety, she didn’t utter them.

  ‘Shall we go inside now?’ he said, taking her by the arm.

  Everyone had gone. Caroline had been the last to leave. Lizzie had urged her friends to stay the night, but both Brent and Tom, and Shelley and Sholto, had politely declined. John had a feeling that both the other couples felt as he did. They were at that stage when it was important to be in their own particular space, in order to be truly intimate.

  Intimate. Intimate. Intimate. That was what he wanted to be. Now. Mad lust galloped through him, the urge to grab Lizzie and fuck her right there, on the hall floor. His cock stiffened. It would be a displacement activity as much as lovemaking, and she’d know that, but she’d still be up for it. And the Thursgoods had retired for the evening.

  No!

  He’d make love to Lizzie, long and slow … or wild and fast … or both … later. There was another matter to be dealt with first. Something he couldn’t put to one side, not even for the ineffable pleasure of fucking Lizzie. Caroline’s benign prompting had only crystallised something that had already been in his heart and mind, but not acknowledged. Perhaps as far back as that first fateful night at the Waverley Grange.

  He’d experienced what the French called a coup de foudre that night – love at first sight – and he’d begun changing and growing, as he’d fallen deeper and ever deeper under Lizzie’s spell.

  He stopped Lizzie in the hall, and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead. ‘You go up, love. I’m just going to check all the doors and the security. I’ll join you as soon as I’ve done that, and had a shower.’ He stole another kiss. ‘Keep the bed warm for me.’

  That look of comprehension passed across her face. She understood. He needed a bit of space to order his thoughts. Before … well … before what they probably both knew was coming.

  ‘OK, see you in a little bit.’ She squeezed his hand, then hurried on and up the stairs, almost making him groan at the provocative sight of her sleek legs making her petticoats flounce as she ascended.

  ‘Marry her, you idiot,’ Caroline had said. ‘Marry her and love her and be together for ever. She’s wonderful. She’s right for you. She’s the one.’

  His ex-wife had buttonholed him in a quiet moment, drawing him aside while Lizzie had been in the pool with her friends and Tom.

  John had been nonplussed. Not because Caroline was saying something he didn’t want to hear, but because, as ever, she was so absolutely and completely right.

  ‘Get engaged as soon as you can, Jonny. The sooner the better.’ His ex-wife’s frown had spoken volumes about her own conflicted feelings. ‘You … You do know that my daughter might be harbouring ideas that she might be able to get you back, don’t you? She’s getting a divorce from Ernesto and she’s coming back to England with Charlie. I know what’s in her mind, even if she doesn’t know I know. It was patently obvious in New York.’

  They’d spoken further, quietly, John confirming Caroline’s suspicions. She’d begged him to act, alarm on her face, although to her credit, as the party had reformed, she hadn’t shown even a hint of it. Even though Lizzie wasn’t her daughter, they were much alike in that.

  And now he prepared to follow Caro’s advice. As he checked the house, he rehearsed little speeches in his mind, laughing silently at himself. He’d brokered hundreds of deals, subtlety and guile his most potent weapons. He’d pushed and he’d achieved his goals through what amounted to sheer force of personality. He was a winner. The ultimate achiever. A force to be reckoned with. But faced with love, and the possibility of cocking things up completely, he was as gauche as a boy again. A fresh, hopeful boy, though; the lad he’d once been before his illusions had been shattered.

  With about twenty different versions of his ‘speech’ in his head, and freshly showered and shaved, he strode to the bedroom. No faltering now, even after he’d frowned in the mirror, prodding at his laughter lines, then grimaced even more, swearing that there might even be a few grey hairs amongst the gold. The night was chilly after the gorgeous day, but the pyjamas and robe he wore were his shield and his armour.

  Bloody idiot. You’re not going into battle. Even if she wants nothing to do with marriage, she’s still here, isn’t she? This is solid and enduring, what we have already. Clara can think what she likes, but there’s nothing she can do. She can go fuck herself!

  He smiled at his own absurdity as he pushed open the door to the master bedroom, his heart and, inevitably, his cock, rising at the sight of Lizzie in bed.

  His love was bundled up too, wrapped in a shawl over a T-shirt and soft pyjama bottoms. She was flicking through a copy of Draper, but he could tell her attention wasn’t really on it. Catching sight of him, a smile lit her face as she battled too, facing their shared preoccupations.

  ‘Shall I light the fire, love?’ he asked, approaching. ‘It’s a bit nippy tonight.’

  ‘No, it’s OK. I’ll be warm when you get into bed.’ Flinging aside her trade magazine, she held back the covers for him invitingly.

  He flung off his robe and climbed in beside her, heart thudding, loins thudding too. Without make-up, she was fresh and exquisite, her black hair brushed and loose, so shiny. Her heart was in her eyes and he almost gasped aloud.

  God, I’m the luckiest man alive.

  ‘So?’

  ‘So?’

  They both laughed at once.

  ‘I suspect we’re both probably singing from the same page,’ said Lizzie, twisting to face him, tucking her legs to one side. His angel, yet total woman, total sex.

  ‘Yes, and that would be the hymn sheet as written by my ex-wife.’

  ‘That’s the one.’ She smiled at him. He could see her nervousness, but a sheen of excitement too, and his spirits soar
ed.

  Oh God, he was nervous too. Like the adolescent he’d once been, barely able to reign in his emotions, his hormones. But she was with him. He could ask. He could ask and know that he wouldn’t be refused.

  Lizzie sat very still, although inside every bit of her was jittering. John’s eyes were level as he looked at her, but there was the same out-of-control energy in them too. For once, it wasn’t primarily to do with sex, even though she hadn’t been able to ignore his partial erection.

  This is it. The next step. The big one.

  She felt like Neil Armstrong on the ladder. One small step, a few simple words. One giant leap into a new ball game, a new world.

  ‘What Caroline said is right, love.’ John’s voice was low, and both measured and taut. Alarm rose in her, then ebbed when he smiled. That golden smile of his, happy but laced with anxiousness now. So boyish. ‘The simple fact is that I love you, Lizzie. I can’t imagine a life without you now, and for me, it’s for ever.’ He reached for her hand and folded it in both of his, the hold light as if she were precious and fragile. ‘I never thought I’d say this. And I never have said it before, not in so many words. But I want to marry you, love. Will you marry me?’

  It was a question. A supplication. But his blue eyes were filled with intense power. Stunned by the words out loud, despite them being exactly what she’d expected, Lizzie almost laughed. He was the unstoppable, irresistible John Smith, and as ever, on the cusp of a critical ‘deal’, he’d deployed his most effective bargaining tools, his fabulous glamour and his hypnotising gaze.

  She opened her mouth, wanting to scream the words Yes! Yes! Yes! despite her qualms, but somehow her lips and tongue wouldn’t work. They probably wouldn’t function properly for a kiss either, but she shot forward anyway, and aimed her mouth at his, taking one.

  Surprised for a split second, John gasped, then responded, lifting one hand and sliding it into her hair, cradling her head. It was a sweet kiss, a gentle kiss, but when they drew apart they were both panting as if they’d been passionately embracing for hours.

  ‘Is that a “yes”?’ The mesmerising expression wavered, and Lizzie pressed forward again, giving him another, very quick affirmative kiss.

  ‘Yes, it’s a “yes”.’ Crazy shivers wracked her body. Shock of a kind. It was stupid but suddenly she couldn’t stop shaking. Or laughing.

  John darted for her sliding shawl, then swathed it back around her shoulders, enclosing her and it in a hug. He laughed too and they rocked together.

  ‘It is a bit mad, isn’t it?’ he said as they settled. ‘But I’m serious. I do want to marry you, Lizzie. I know we can be happy, and have a good, good life.’ He looked serious for a moment. ‘But I also know that there are complications, implications, and I’m putting a god-awful responsibility on you.’ His hands enfolded hers again. ‘I’ll do everything in my power to smooth the way for you, my love, but I can’t think of a woman on earth who’s more up for the challenge of taking me on.’

  God, it was a challenge. Hell, yes. But this was John. Her John. The love of her life, he’d be worth it. The vista of the years ahead started to unreel in her head, and the shakes threatened again. But she quashed them. One step at a time, idiot. One step at a time.

  She smiled at him, and he smiled back, then they were kissing again. And as their tongues duelled, a wicked little imp inside her murmured.

  Up yours, Clara. Put this in your pipe and smoke it. You can’t have him now.

  As they drew apart again, John gave her a sharp, knowing look. Oh, damn him and his empathy. He’d sensed the direction of her thought, if not the actual words. She waited for him to mention her bête noire, but he didn’t. He didn’t want to spoil things. The issue of Clara would no doubt loom again soon, but this was their moment, unique for just the two of them, and his ex-lover just didn’t belong in it.

  ‘The family stuff, the title stuff. We don’t have to do any of it, you know. Not if you don’t want to.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘There might be the odd social thing, Christmas, birthdays and whatnot. But only on your terms, love. Otherwise, we just keep our own household, here at Dalethwaite, and live our lives as we please.’

  He was offering a safe way, an easy way, and yet perversely the rockier path, with its huge challenges, had a strange appeal. Hadn’t John been the wildest challenge of her life, when she’d first seen him, grinning at her over his glass of gin in the Lawns Bar? She hadn’t been a coward then, and she wouldn’t be one now. There were tests ahead, big ones, but the longer she knew John, the less she wanted to turn away from them.

  ‘But … um … What about children? Won’t your dad be counting on some? From us, that is?’

  Yes, that was a biggie.

  Lizzie had never been one to coo over babies, but she didn’t actively dislike them either. She’d just never really pictured herself in mother mode. Well, at least she hadn’t until certain little rogue notions had begun to sneak up on her lately.

  ‘Children, yes.’ John blinked. Were his own thoughts on the matter just as nebulous as hers? ‘We’ll have to have some, I think. Unless you’re violently opposed to the idea? If you are, the old man will probably get his shotgun out again and ban you from Montcalm too. But if he does, well, we’ll deal with it.’ He took her by the shoulders. Tightly. As if using the pressure to make her believe him. ‘It’s what you want, love, not what he wants. If the title goes, the title goes. I don’t care about anything but you.’

  Oh God, what a responsibility. Never mind Neil Armstrong, she felt like the Duchess of Cambridge now, with the succession and the throne of England depending on the fruitfulness of her womb.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said John, his voice firm, strong. He pressed his lips to hers again, briefly but passionately. ‘You’ll never have to do anything you don’t want. I hope I’ve never made you feel that way, and I mean it most of all now, believe me.’

  She did. His eyes said it all. The real strength was there, more than in his voice or his lips or his hold on her shoulders.

  ‘It’s not that I don’t want kids. I quite like them. But I just hadn’t envisaged having them for a while, you know?’ And now more than ever, when she finally had a job she enjoyed, and a man she wanted to enjoy a rampant, untrammelled sex life with. For a few years ahead at least.

  John smiled. Happy. Relieved? Wasn’t he ready yet either? Would he ever be?

  ‘There’s plenty of time, Lizzie. Plenty. You’re only young, and hell, even I’m not quite in my dotage.’ He nodded, almost to himself, as if thinking on the fly. ‘Look, I do suspect that if my father at least knows there’ll be kids eventually, that’ll make him happy. And then perhaps he’ll relent and start to quite like his black sheep again.’ He laughed, giving her a hug, then sliding his hands all the way down her arms to clasp hers. Lifting her hands to his lips again, he covered them with kisses. ‘So, we’re sorted, then, Miss Aitchison? We’re engaged?’

  ‘Yes, I think so.’ It was still stunning, still hard to grasp the momentous nature of what they’d just agreed to do. ‘But is it officially or unofficially?’

  John pursed his lips, thinking again.

  ‘A bit of both, maybe? Let’s tell a few people. Local friends, the household, etcetera … but wait and tell the respective parents face to face. It’s not as if either lot lives right on our doorstep. I would like to ask your father for your hand formally, next week.’ He quirked his sandy eyebrows at her. ‘Much as I play that black sheep role, I think there’s still a bit of the traditionalist in me, you know?’

  Oh, hell. Her parents. She’d been so busy worrying about John’s parents, and their aristo expectations, that she’d somehow managed to completely forget her own parents, the forthcoming visit, and how they’d respond to the news!

  John and her mother had seemed to get on well on the phone, so that was a good sign. But there was still the issue of her marrying a man roughly the same age as her father. There was a big difference between them being OK with her dating an
older man, and confronting her family, in a fait accompli, with John as their future son-in-law.

  ‘You’re worrying again,’ he said softly, rubbing her hands as if she’d complained of them being cold. ‘We’ll face them together, love. Together. And I’ll overwhelm them with my charm and good looks and my enormous mountains of money.’ He beamed at her. ‘Because, let’s face it, apart from my advanced years and general decrepitude, I’m a sound financial prospect as a husband.’

  ‘Twit!’

  ‘Not to mention the fact that their daughter will be marrying into the nobility, and what parents don’t secretly aspire to that for their offspring?’ He winked. ‘Even in these libertarian, egalitarian times.’

  As an avid reader of Hello! and OK!, especially the doings of the royal family and assorted toffs, her mum would be thrilled by the idea of her daughter’s ennoblement. Lizzie wouldn’t have been at all surprised if her mum hadn’t already been poring over back issues, and other resources, trawling for details of John’s lineage, and his noble, blue-blood family.

  ‘I think my mum will be over the moon at me being Lady Something. Even if you were already in a bath chair.’ She winked back at him. ‘Not sure about my dad, though. He’s more of a republican.’

  ‘Well, I shall look forward to debating ideological issues with him when we meet, then.’ John leant forward, cradling her face, and kissed her again, a slow, sneaky kiss this time, tongue flicking at the seam of her lips.

  Despite everything, Lizzie smiled inside, savouring his taste. Now the big step had been taken, it looked like John was set on guiding her to simpler, sweeter waters. The part of their relationship that was just them, and so much less full of complications.

  Sliding her arms around him, she subsided back against the pillows, pulling him with her.

  14

  Celebration

  It was like sinking into a delicious familiar space. Warm, safe, known; but still dangerous and exciting in its own way.

  The next big step had been taken. Now it was time to celebrate. John’s hand settled on her waist, her hip, reacquainting itself. It had been a long afternoon, and his touch was like fire after all those hours of having to behave for company at the pool party. His cock had been behaving itself for company too, but not now. It was hard and insistent, jabbing against her as he lay over her, kissing and kissing and kissing.