The Captain and the Best Man

by Catherine Curzon

  “That’s my nephew you’re talking about!” Pierre remarked with a flash of roguish glee that had Josh trying to hide a splutter of laughter. What he wouldn’t give to be with Guy now, sitting out on the veranda listening to the crashing waves, sipping ti’ punch in the sunshine. Instead he was here, in what seemed to be the most stressful place in the Caribbean.

  “Waiter…” Stella murmured, as though trying to remember something. Then her hand flew up to her mouth and she gasped, “Oh no. No way, no! Pris, you remember this morning when we in the airport bistro and I took out my wedding garter to show you and the waiter came up and interrupted—”

  Priscilla’s mouth fell open as if she was preparing to swallow a world-beating gobstopper. She wheeled round to face Stella. “And you’ve left in the café?”

  “I put it on the chair, didn’t I? Because you told me to, you and Mum were all, don’t let another man see your wedding garter, and I put it on the chair and—” She took a deep breath and howled, “Why didn’t one of you two tell me I’d not picked it up again? I’m getting married, I can’t be expected to remember! It’s still on the fucking chair at Heathrow!”

  “It’s not our job,” Angie told her daughter. “We had enough on keeping your bridesmaids in one place. And look how that’s ended up!”

  “Someone probably handed it in,” Rey ventured. The dads stayed resolutely silent, Josh noted. No doubt experience had taught them it was the best way. “We can pick it up on our way back through?”

  “Erm… Rey…” Josh nudged him. “You know that rhyme, the one—”

  Priscilla’s stentorian tones erupted with, “The one that goes, Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue?” In her voice, the old rhyme sounded like the words of a wizard bellowed through a storm at the stone door of a mountain to demand entrance.

  “Something left on a chair at Heathrow,” Rey finished, clearly hoping that levity was going to win the day. Josh already knew it wasn’t. The air seemed to seethe, then, in the deepening silence, Martin cleared his throat.

  “Reverend, correct me if I’m wrong, but am I right in thinking that there’s no law saying a bride can’t still have the best day of her life without something blue?” He gave a bright smile toward Pierre. “So really, the lost garter’s nothing to commit murder over, is that not so?”

  Pierre gave the most Gallic of Gallic shrugs. “Guadeloupe is a French territory, and we don’t have a rhyme about weddings and les objets bleus.” He smiled at Stella. “Tant pis, ma petite!”

  Her face, which had been set in abject misery, was unmoving for a moment. Then she met Pierre’s gaze and smiled. A small, rather wobbly smile, but a smile. Teri was lucky. Pierre seemed like the sort of father-in-law to have in one’s corner.

  “Can we do our rehearsal without a bridesmaid?” she asked, sniffing. “She’ll be here tomorrow, I promise.”

  “So long as the vicar’s nephew doesn’t keep her out all night,” Angie muttered to Pris.

  “What does she think this is, a holiday?” Priscilla remarked.

  Pierre smiled his benevolent smile again. “The other two can hold her up! But don’t worry, I’ll get my sister round to see my nephew, and you’ll have a well-rested bridesmaid for tomorrow.”

  Rey nudged Josh and whispered, “I wish I’d met a waiter, then I wouldn’t have to be at a wedding rehearsal.”

  ‘When you get married, just run off somewhere and do it,’ Rey had told him earlier. It was beginning to seem like the most attractive option. Running off somewhere with Guy… He’s just made for romance.

  “It’s a bit late to come out now!” Josh joked. Then he heard voices at the back of the room. Louise had returned. Stella, Pris and Angie all locked eyes with her as one. Each appeared more furious than the other, but nobody seemed more furious than Stella.

  “Oh, so you decided to drop in?” Stella called to her. “That’s really generous, Lou, thanks.”

  Louise appeared to be about to speak, but evidently changed her mind. “Sorry,” she said in a small voice.

  “Sorry,” Stella repeated, but it sounded like a gunshot. She and Pris exchanged a glance and even though nothing was said, Josh saw an understanding pass between the two women. They were both furious with the wandering bridesmaid and she was about to get it with both barrels.

  “Sorry?” Priscilla swung her arms like a sergeant major on the parade ground as she stabbed her heels over the carpet toward Louise. She poked her finger at Louise. “Sorry? You held up the wedding rehearsal to cavort with a waiter, and all you have to say for yourself is sorry?”

  Josh had not, until that moment, ever seen someone take a step backward, but Louise now did.

  Pierre interceded and threw a glance Martin’s way. “Ladies… We’re all here now, that’s all that matters.” He gave Louise a wink. “And my nephew’s a handsome boy!”

  And somehow, Josh just knew that wasn’t the most helpful thing to say.

  “But he’ll still be handsome tomorrow—my wedding day only gets one chance to be spectacular!” Stella took her place beside Pris and Angie. The mother of the bride, who had felt so much like a spare part, was now suddenly very much part of the group. She completed the trio, the most fearsome girl band line-up Josh could imagine.

  “From now on, bridesmaids are on curfew,” Angie decided, earning decisive nods from Stella and Pris. “You can do what you like after the reception but until then, behave.”

  “Or I’ll send Pris after you.” Martin smiled, his efforts to lighten the atmosphere doing little to lift the look of annoyance from his wife’s face.

  Priscilla turned on him, her teeth bared like an Amazon warrior’s. “Do you want to be fed to the sharks, Martin? Do you? And you two boys at the front there, don’t think I can’t see the smirks on your faces! Shark food, the lot of you!”

  Josh’s lips trembled with the force of the nervous giggle he was trying to restrain.

  “Curfew?” Louise looked wounded. “But you said this was going to be a fun holiday! And I wasn’t cavorting with anyone. I was only having a chat with Vadim. I’ve said sorry. I’m not at flipping school anymore.”

  “We can all have fun after the wedding,” Stella told her, tears gathering in her eyes again. “You can do whatever you like then!”

  Rey lifted his hand to his mouth to stifle a very theatrical cough and whispered to Josh, “Heil, mein Führer.” Then he dropped his hand and said, “Come on, Stel, let’s get rehearsed so we can get to dinner. Everyone’s a bit tired and…” He took a deep breath and Josh remembered his tears earlier that day, the wobble that this whole mess couldn’t be helping. “Look, can we just get through it?”

  “Well, now we’re all here—” Priscilla glared at Louise again, then her look softened. “Let’s get to it, chaps!”

  “We’re going to have an amazing day tomorrow,” Rey told them all, dashing the back of his hand over his eyes. “And we’re all knackered, let’s be honest. You don’t get much leg room in cattle class!”

  Josh joined in their laughter, but thought of Guy and his first-class upgrade. Leg room? I had my own bed!

  Pierre nodded. “Ready, everyone? Let’s rehearse!”

  How Pierre put up with wedding parties, Josh couldn’t imagine. Even once this one was on track, it still seemed more like a military operation than a chance for two people to show the world that they loved each other, that they wanted to spend their lives together. Between Robbie Williams at the start and Beyoncé at the end, it was pageantry, poetic vows and expensive frocks, and all of it drilled to the nth degree until the romance sort of just…evaporated. But they loved each other, Josh knew that without a shadow of a doubt. Rey and Stella were the perfect couple, the most in tune pair he’d ever seen until—until he’d met Captain Guy Collingwood.

  Sensible Josh would have listened wide-eyed to tales of the HR manager who met a pilot and fell head over heels with him beneath the Caribbean sun, but sensible Josh appeared not to have boarded
the plane after all. The Josh who’d come to St Seb’s was subtly different, as though the heat had melted his reserve and left him ready for romance. Ready for love, even.

  But was Guy ready for that too?

  Was he even looking for love, with that horrendous failure of a marriage in his past?

  England would tell, Josh knew. In the deer park and the leaves, the pub and the vintage car, they’d still be Guy and Josh, just as they were on the beach of St Seb’s. And if sensible Josh was waiting in Basingstoke to tell him this was all a ridiculous fancy, he’d tell sensible Josh where to get off. He was enjoying life with his dashing captain, and—

  “Rings, mate,” Rey said, nudging him. His hand was held out expectantly, for the imaginary rings. He really was taking rehearsals seriously. “You’re miles away!”

  “So’re we all,” Martin told them through a yawn. “I’ll be for my bed before I get my pudding tonight! How about we shift our big dinner to the night after the nuptials? We’ll all be a lot less strung out then, I reckon!”

  “But we have to have a pre-wedding dinner!” Even as she said this, Priscilla stifled a yawn and slipped one foot out of its kitten-heeled shoe to rub her toes. “But…it has been a long day.”

  “I’m happy to put it off,” Angie said, her husband giving one of his stoic, wordless nods. “Stella?”

  Say yes, Josh thought. Because time not spent at what was sure to be a tense dinner was time he could spend with Guy.

  “I’m shattered.” Stella nodded. “Let’s finish rehearsal, have a drink and just chill?”

  “That’s the best way to prepare for the wedding!” Pierre agreed. “You were all amazing, and all you need now is a good night’s sleep.”

  Josh was fairly sure this was aimed at Louise, who might be tempted to break curfew, but it might just as well refer to Josh. But where better to sleep than in Captain Collingwood’s bed?

  Chapter Seven

  Josh tried not to look pleased about the dinner being canceled, although the rest of the wedding party were probably too frazzled to notice. He yawned and mumbled something about jetlag, then went off to his room.

  Josh dashed up the stairs to his hut, and nearly cheered at the sight of the phone charger waiting for him on the dressing table. He plugged it in and turned his phone on. It seemed like a miracle when the screen powered up, and he nearly cheered again when he saw that he had no fewer than three messages on his phone.

  All from Guy.

  The first was last night’s invitation to the island birthday party, the second a photo of the sparkling headland waters where Josh had swum before he knew Guy was staying in the palace. The photo had been taken that afternoon, as Josh had been rehearsing the wedding of the century, his mind occupied by thoughts of his dashing pilot. Accompanying the picture, his lover had typed, What would make this picture perfect? xxxxx.

  The third and final text had been sent just ten minutes ago. No photo, no invitation, just three words.

  I want you.

  Josh almost dropped his phone. The room seemed alive with the memories of last night and he took a deep breath before tapping out his reply.

  I want you too. Are you alone?

  The reply landed in seconds.

  Just me and the beach and a very nice bottle.

  Josh pulled his shirt off over his head and chucked it aside.

  I’m on my way.

  And he heard the reply in that smooth voice.

  I’ll be waiting. Xxxxx

  Josh changed into his swimming shorts, but just as he was about to head onto the balcony, realized that it wasn’t a good idea to leave his phone charging in a wooden hut while he wasn’t around. He unplugged it and turned the phone off. Then he went onto the balcony, locked the door behind him and stowed the key in his zip-up pocket.

  He climbed into the water and swam along the line of the beach, which was lit with the lights from the bars and hotels. The water was warm, but Josh didn’t dawdle. He powered through the waves and was soon rounding the headland. His heart pounded, not with the effort of his swim but with anticipation of seeing his captain again.

  Josh could see Guy, he was sure of it, out on the veranda. He trod water for a moment. He’d spent his whole life being prudent, but the romance of St Sebastian had fired his blood. What if…what if on St Sebastian, HR managers could rise out of the water like Aphrodite?

  Before he could tell himself not to, Josh slipped out of his shorts and bunched them up into one hand. Then he swam the rest of the way, wondering if Guy had spotted him yet.

  He saw the moment that it happened. Standing there with his hands on the rail that ran around the veranda, the billowing white shirt he wore almost luminous in the moonlight, Guy leaned forward just a little to peer more closely at the ocean. Then he jogged down onto the beach, greeting Josh with a sweeping wave.

  Josh dropped his feet down onto the sand below him and pushed his way through the water.

  “Guy!” He grinned as he tried to hurry toward him. “I’ve been thinking about you all day!”

  Josh slicked back his fringe and as the waves withdrew he rose from the water, naked but for a pair of shell necklaces. He held out his arms and grinned.

  “Your very own Aphrodite pearl-diving poet is here!”

  “Now that is how to make an entrance!” On the edge of the shore, Guy threw his arms around Josh and hugged him. Then he put his hands on Josh’s face and kissed him as though they’d been parted for weeks, the sort of kiss a sensible fellow like Josh hadn’t usually received from his past, equally sensible, boyfriends.

  Josh responded, his kiss fiery and passionate. He pressed his wet body against Guy, holding himself close as he caressed his behind. “I’m glad you’re alone tonight, because now I’m here.”

  “Come to bed?” Guy murmured, the stirring hardness in his cargo shorts pressing to Josh’s naked skin. “You gorgeous bloody thing.”

  Josh grinned. “Lead the way, Captain!”

  And just as he had last night, Guy fulfilled his dashing side of the deal, scooping Josh up into his arms and carrying him across the moonlit sand. Josh removed one of his necklaces and put it around Guy’s neck. His gift to him—Josh’s attempt at romance. Together they stepped up onto the veranda and through the billowing gauze curtains into the palace.

  Bloody hell.

  Captain Collingwood did have a four poster in his room. And a vast, gleaming bath, and a view of the beach stretched out before him.

  But the only view he seemed interested in was the man in his arms.

  Guy laid Josh on the crisp white sheets and knelt beside him for just as long as it took to sweep his shirt over his head and throw it aside. Then he took Josh in his arms again and kissed him, long and lingering. Josh combed through Guy’s hair and caressed his handsome face, then drew his fingertips down Guy’s back, kissing him all the while. But this wasn’t only lust. It was more than that—it was a chance at love.

  “Will you…” Josh wondered if he should say what was hovering on his lips, but somehow, Guy didn’t seem to be the sort of man to find it ridiculous. “Don’t laugh, but… Guy, will you make love to me?”

  “Why would you think I’d laugh at that?” Guy touched his forehead to Josh’s. “I’d love to make love to you.”

  Josh giggled awkwardly. He’d never asked anyone that before. “Your merman Ursula Andress, being demanding.”

  “I like that kind of demanding.” He kissed Josh again. “Though I can’t picture you in a bikini.”

  “Nothing but a necklace made of shells is much better!” As Josh looked up at Guy’s bright blue eyes, he slid his hand down to Guy’s shorts and slowly unfastened them. “That’s all you should wear, too.”

  “I’ll never take it off.” Guy dipped his head to trail kisses over Josh’s throat and told him, “You made a stunning Aphrodite.”

  “I’ve never done that before.” Josh pushed Guy’s shorts off him. He had at least done that before. “It was fun. I should do thin
gs like that more often, don’t you think? As long as it’s your beach I turn up on.”

  “Life’s too short not to have fun. Even in Basingstoke.”

  “Not much opportunity to go about naked in Basingstoke, I’m sad to say. St Seb’s is much better. Especially because….” Josh gave Guy a wink as he closed his hand around his erection and began to caress him. “Because you and your fantastic bod are here.”

  “Me and my fantastic bod,” Guy said with a mischievous smile. “And yet I’ve never been to Basingstoke. Naked or otherwise.”

  “You’ll have to visit. My bedroom’s got a nice view of the canal…” Josh kissed him. “But we’ll have to draw the curtains.”

  Guy lifted his head and peered at Josh, humor sparkling in his eyes. “You really are terribly sensible, aren’t you? A nice view’s there be enjoyed, as the narrowboaters would no doubt tell you. Not sure it’d have quite the same impact though, rising naked out of the canal with a shell necklace.”

  “With a duck balancing on my head?” Josh ran his free hand over Guy’s broad chest. “I like St Seb’s. I’m not all that sensible here… You haven’t drawn your curtains and I’ve only just noticed!”

  Guy’s only reply this time was to kiss him again. He slid his fingertips lightly down Josh’s side, caressing his skin until he curled his fingers around Josh’s erection. Then he whispered, “St Seb’s isn’t a sensible sort of place.”

  “I’d noticed…” Josh’s words ended in a sigh of pleasure. Sensible Josh would never have lain on clean sheets while leaving sand to fall out of his wet hair into the pillow. But sensible Josh had never asked a man to make love to him before, especially not a man he’d only met the day before. Josh crossed his legs around Guy’s waist, bringing him closer to him.

  “I’m sensible when it matters,” Guy murmured against Josh’s lips. Josh felt Guy’s arm reach away from him and vaguely heard the sound of a drawer opening, seemingly as far away as the waves that were lapping at the shore outside. ‘Sensible when it matters’ felt like a very Guy way to be. It was perfect for St Seb’s.