by Fiona Harper
For four long years she’d been living in the past. Trying to remember…Trying to forget…Recently she’d actually managed to live in the present, enjoy the moment. But did that mean she was ready to think about the future? That was something she hadn’t done for such a long time, she realised, for all her big talk about ‘breaking free’. She hadn’t really been looking forward when she’d taken the job as Mark’s housekeeper; she’d been looking back over her shoulder, running away from ghosts.
But now, standing here on this beach, she was starting to think that the future might be wonderful instead of scary. Today she’d found some peace. And Mark was a wonderful man, so much more than he gave himself credit for. Maybe it was that easy. Maybe this was one impulse she should follow one hundred percent, because, boy, she really wanted to say yes.
He turned her to face him without breaking contact, keeping her in the protective circle of his arms. ‘Ellie. I love you. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Ever. I can’t imagine spending another second of my life without you.’ In a solemn gesture he took her hands in his, kissed them and lowered himself onto one knee.
Now she knew she really was dreaming! There was no way this could be happening to her. Still, she hoped the alarm clock wasn’t going to go off any time soon.
The earnest look on his face made her eyes sting again. ‘Ellie Bond, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’
She could feel his whole body shaking as she lowered herself to sit on his raised knee and kissed him sweetly, passionately.
‘Is that a yes?’
Her breath warmed his earlobe as she whispered, ‘Yes.’
Mark’s ferocious kiss destroyed their precarious balancing act and they both fell onto the sand, tangled but still joined at the lips. Ellie wasn’t sure how long they stayed there ‘celebrating’. Long enough for the tide to creep in a bit further and take a peek.
‘Mark, my feet are getting wet.’
‘Do you care?’
‘Not really.’
More jubilant celebrations.
By the time the salty water was lapping at the hem of her skirt she surrendered.
‘We can’t stay here all day, you know.’
Mark fell back into the sand and stared at the vivid blue sky. ‘Shame. I was hoping we could just float away to a desert island and never be heard of again.’
That night at dinner they suddenly remembered they needed to think practicalities if they were really serious about getting married.
‘What sort of wedding do you want?’ Mark asked Ellie as she dug into her creamy dessert, desperately hoping it wouldn’t be the three-ring circus Helena had insisted on. Weddings like that felt like bad omens.
Ellie swallowed her mouthful and thought for a moment. ‘Something simple.’ She dug her spoon into the coconut and rum thing again, but it stopped halfway to her mouth and hovered there, threatening to drop its contents back into the bowl while she considered his question further. ‘Something small…private. Just you and me on a sunny day, somewhere beautiful.’
That gave him an idea. ‘Somewhere like here?’
Ellie put her spoon back in the bowl and smiled at him. ‘That would be perfect! You mean come back in a few months?’
That was exactly what he’d been thinking. But then he thought about all the to-ing and fro-ing, all the hideous preparations and tensions in the run-up to a wedding. That would just spoil everything, ruin the atmosphere of perfection that was clinging to them at the moment.
‘How about we get married here? Now. In a few days.’ He looked at her earnestly. ‘As soon as possible.’
She opened and closed her mouth. Then she made that scrunched-up face she always did when she was trying to process something unexpected.
‘We’ll have a big party for friends and family when we get back home,’ he added. Ellie looked horrified, and Mark remembered the last party at Larkford. He took hold of her hand. ‘Real friends only, I promise.’
‘This isn’t another one of what you think are your hilarious jokes, is it?’
He was deadly serious. How did he make her see that?
‘Ellie, I’ve been hiding for too long, waiting for too long.’ He watched as the tension eased from her face and she smiled at him, nodding in agreement. He stopped smiling and looked straight into her eyes. ‘I don’t want to wait any more.’
She let out a happy sigh. ‘Mark, you’re asking the right girl, then—because I have this horrible impulse to go along with anything you say, and I just can’t be bothered to fight it.’
Ellie stared at herself in the bathroom mirror.
‘I’m getting married tomorrow!’ she screamed at the idiot grinning back at her. Then she screamed again, just because it was fun. Oh, get a grip, girl! You can’t just stand here all day smiling at yourself. You’ve got some serious shopping to do today. And a fiancé to corner before he disappeared off to do whatever secret things he’d planned and wouldn’t tell her about.
One more grin in the mirror for luck, and then she ran out of her bathroom and got dressed in the first things she found in the wardrobe.
The last few days had been madness. Her cheeks hurt from smiling so much. She’d thought she would be flying home days ago, but she was still here in paradise with Mark, and things were going to get even more perfect. She couldn’t think about anything else. Her mind just refused to prise itself from that track and she wasn’t inclined to let it.
Of course a voice in the back of her head whispered to her, asking her if this was all too quick, asking whether there was unfinished business she needed to sort out first. But she didn’t want to listen to that voice, so she drowned it out with a slightly off-key rendition of ‘Oh, What a Beautiful Morning’.
Happiness was within her grasp, here and now. She was going to snatch it before the whole dream disappeared in a puff of smoke. No more fear. No more trepidation. Just facing the future with Mark at her side.
But what about the past? the voice said. What are you going to do with that?
Ellie belted out the chorus of the song and ran through the garden. She burst through the unlocked doors of Mark’s cabin like a miniature whirlwind.
He was in the sitting room, poring over some faxes. His face lit up as he saw her. ‘Good morning. And what have you come as today?’
‘Huh?’ Ellie stopped and looked down, then burst into laughter as she took in her floaty floral-print blouse and her pyjama bottoms.
‘I had other things on my mind while I was getting dressed,’ she admitted with a wry smile.
‘Pyjama bottoms…hmm…’ Mark claimed his morning kiss. ‘They remind me of the first time we met,’ he said, making a feather-soft trail from her neck to her ear.
Ellie flung her arms around him. ‘If you really want to recreate our first meeting I think we need to be a little more—how shall I put it?—horizontal,’ she said, and let her weight fall backwards, pulling them both down onto the large sofa behind her. ‘And you! You should be wearing considerably less!’
‘You know I’m not that sort of girl,’ he quipped. ‘I thought I’d made it very clear. You have to sign on the dotted line before you get to sample the goods.’
‘Spoilsport!’
‘Only twenty hours to go. Surely you can wait that long?’
‘Only just.’ She pulled him close for another kiss. ‘Just a deposit,’ she assured him, making sure she got her money’s worth. Both sets of parents and Ellie’s brother were due to fly in for the wedding, so they’d planned a meal at the hotel after the ceremony. ‘Do we have to stay through all of the wedding breakfast? Can’t we leave early?’
Mark threw his head back and laughed. He pressed his lips against her forehead as he untangled himself and stood up. ‘We won’t have to stay long.’
‘Five minutes?’
‘Three at the most.’
It was her turn to laugh. He walked back to the desk. ‘Now, as for the rest of today, you have to go shopping. You can’t get marri
ed in another outfit like that. Carla, the stylist from the shoot, has faxed me a list of shops in St John’s that you can visit for a dress. Thank goodness Antiguan red tape is just as laid-back and flexible as everything else on this island, and I can go and pick up the marriage licence today, once some essential documents have arrived. And, talking of essential elements of our wedding, I have one last surprise for you.’
He grabbed her hand and dragged her with him to another cabin. When they got onto the white-painted veranda he gave her a little nudge in the direction of the open door. Ellie gave him a quizzical look, then stepped inside.
‘Charlie!’
Charlie jumped off the sofa and bounced over to Ellie, squealing, and dragged her fully inside the cabin. Then she flung her arms around Ellie’s neck and yelled her congratulations in her ear. Ellie was already having trouble catching her breath, and Charlie’s bear hug left her practically airless. She patted her friend’s back in a pathetic attempt to return the gesture.
‘I don’t understand. What are you doing here?’
‘Do you think I’d miss this? Mark called me the day before yesterday, broke the news, and asked me to fly over with birth certificates and such. I’m a rather stunning, elegant, designer-clad courier!’ She did a little twirl just to prove it.
Ellie grinned. ‘You’re more than that! And the first thing you can do to make up for almost giving me a heart attack is to come dress shopping. It’s the least my bridesmaid can do.’
Charlie’s high-pitched squeal almost shredded Ellie’s eardrums.
Sunrise.
Ellie and Mark walked towards the minister arm in arm as the sun lifted above the horizon. She loved Mark for suggesting her favourite time of day for the wedding. There was something so pure and fresh about the early-morning sun. And it was a beautiful symbol for her life. A fresh start, new hope. Light and warmth where she’d thought there could only be darkness.
Her bare feet sank into the cool, silky sand as they passed the few guests up early to share the ceremony. Charlie and Kat, who’d insisted on cancelling something important to be there, stood beside the minister in their bridesmaids’ outfits, smiling at Mark and Ellie as they approached. Charlie looked as if she’d already had to break out the emergency hanky. It was just as well Ellie had insisted she wear waterproof mascara.
Ellie took a deep breath and looked down at her feet. Her softly flowing white chiffon dress was blowing gently round her ankles. Her feet looked almost as creamy as the pale sand. Her toenails were painted a shade of deep pink to match the exotic blooms woven into her hair and in her bouquet. And on her left foot was a white gold toe-ring, beautiful in its simplicity. Mark’s gift to her this morning. Just until they got a proper engagement ring, he’d said. But she didn’t care; she thought it was perfect.
She wore no other jewellery. Not even her locket. Much as she loved it, she couldn’t wear it any more—especially not today. It wouldn’t be fair to Mark.
As they reached the minister they halted and turned to face each other. How could she be this lucky? Finding love once with Sam had been wonderful enough, but finding it with Mark was a miracle. She never thought she’d have a second chance. She was so thankful he’d made her see that happiness didn’t always come in identically shaped packages.
She almost didn’t hear the minister as he started the ceremony, she was so busy staring at Mark. She’d never seen him looking so devastatingly handsome. Her eyes never left him throughout the vows. They might as well have been standing on the beach alone for all she knew. Finally she heard the words husband and wife, and the minister gave Mark permission to kiss the bride.
She should have known from the naughty grin on his face that he was up to no good. He lingered a little longer than propriety suggested on the kiss, then swept her up into his arms, hooked one arm under her knees and headed off down the beach with her, leaving her dress billowing behind them and the small band of guests open-mouthed.
‘Mark!’ she gasped, when he’d gone a dozen or so steps. ‘Where are you going? We’ve still got the reception to get through!’
He slowed to a halt. ‘I thought you wanted to disappear as soon as possible after the wedding?’
‘I’m tempted, believe me, but we can’t leave our guests waiting.’
‘Just for you,’ he said, and let her legs glide down to meet the sand, then kissed the tip of her nose. Laughing, they walked back to the small group of guests, who were sharing indulgent smiles.
By the time they congregated in the hotel gardens under a flower-draped pergola for their celebratory feast, the sun was glowing gold and fully above the horizon. The hotel chef had been very inventive with the food, and a stunning array of mouthwatering dishes was ready for them. Since the numbers were small they all sat around one large table, sipping champagne and chatting.
After they had eaten, made the toasts and cut the cake, Kat surprised them by picking up her guitar, which had been cleverly hidden behind a planter, and proceeded to serenade them with a song especially composed for the occasion. Tears welled in Ellie’s eyes as she listened to the beautiful lyrics.
All my tomorrows are nothing but yours, all my yesterdays my gift to you.
It was the best wedding present anyone could have given them. The chorus stuck in her mind, and she found she was humming it as they prepared to leave for the honeymoon.
‘Where are we going, then?’ Ellie asked, puzzled, as Mark led her not to the front of the hotel, as she’d expected, but on to the beach. Mark just smiled an infuriating smile that said you’ll see.
A small speedboat, with a satin ribbon tied bridal-car fashion on the front, was sitting a few feet from the shoreline.
‘I thought we’d float away to that desert island we talked about and never be heard of again,’ he said, as he lifted her into his arms once again and waded out to deposit her in the boat.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MARK was as good as his word, Ellie thought, as she rolled sleepily over in bed. Two weeks on their very own private tropical island had been absolute bliss. She snuggled back against him. A heavy arm draped over her waist and his breaths were long and even. Heaven.
The villa they were staying in was small, but luxurious. The local owners brought fresh food and supplies every day, but were discreet enough that Ellie had not caught sight of them yet. She found enough lazy energy to smile as she remembered how Mark had laughed when she had referred to them as the ‘shopping fairies’.
If only they could stay here for ever. But today was their last day. Tomorrow it was back to England. She frowned, and snuggled even further into Mark’s sleeping body. The last couple of weeks had been like a wonderful dream and she wasn’t sure she was ready for the cold grey slap of reality yet. Here they were just Mark and Ellie, besotted newlyweds. No labels, no outside expectations, free to be themselves. The thought of going home made her shiver. She loved Mark desperately, but she had an inkling that getting used to being Mrs Wilder was going to take some effort.
Warm golden light filtered through the sheer curtains. She guessed the sun had been up a while; it was maybe nine or ten o’clock. Her tummy rumbled in confirmation. No wonder! Their half-eaten dinner still lay on the dining table, abandoned in favour of traditional honeymoon recreation.
Wonderful as it is, lying here tangled with my husband, a girl’s gotta eat!
She wriggled out from under his arm and reached for her robe. Thankfully she had managed to buy something a little more appropriate for a new bride than her old ratty pink one. The ancient garment certainly didn’t come under the category of sexy honeymoon lingerie. She’d been astonished when Mark had seemed disappointed she hadn’t packed it. Weird. She slung the wisp of ivory silk over her shoulders, only bothering with it because she was afraid of running into the ‘fairies’. She left it unfastened and walked away from the bed. A sudden jerk of the sash trailing behind her arrested her progress.
A sleepy voice mumbled from under a pillow, ‘Don’t go. Com
e back to bed.’
‘I’ll be back in a sec. I’m starving!’
‘So am I.’
She laughed. ‘Why don’t I think you’ve got breakfast on your mind?’
A naughty chuckle from under the pillow told her she was spot-on. In a moment of feminine contrariness she decided to make him wait, and continued her journey to the kitchen. The sash pulled taut as he tried to stop her, but the slippery silk whooshed through the loops and she disappeared out through the door. She laughed gently as she imagined what he must look like with the sash dangling uselessly from his outstretched hand.
‘Ellie?’ he yelled from the bedroom.
She was still smiling as she reached into the fridge for the jug of fresh orange juice. ‘Sorry. Forgot what you said. You’ll just have to wait,’ she called back, pleased with her own self-mockery.
Mark’s effort at secretive footsteps was atrocious, but she pretended not to hear him and readied herself for his attack. She detected a flicking movement out of the corner of her eye, and before she could work out what it was her missing sash looped over her head and dragged her backwards into the hard wall of his chest.
His voice was very nearly a growl. ‘I said, Don’t go!’
‘Mark! I just spilled orange juice all over myself.’ She looked down and watched a bead of liquid travel down her torso towards her belly button.
He loosened the sash just enough to let her turn to face him. ‘We’ll just have to clean it up, then, won’t we?’ he said, a truly wicked glint in his eyes.
Ellie sighed as he started tugging her back towards the bedroom. She was pretty sure he wasn’t going to fetch a towel.
Ellie wandered outside and sank her feet into the dewy grass. The vibrant green carpet welcomed her feet and she sighed. It was wonderful to be home. She might have lived on in the cottage after Sam and Chloe had gone, but it turned from a home to a shell of bricks and mortar the day they died. She turned and looked at the majestically crumbling manor house. Larkford Place felt like home—but then she’d feel at home in a caravan if Mark was there.