by Penny Jordan
Sara stared at him. ‘No…no, of course not,’ she assured him truthfully, and then flushed brilliantly scarlet as she realised how misplaced her vehement assurance was, and how inappropriate, but fortunately he seemed not to be aware of her self-betrayal, asking her instead,
‘So why, then?’
This was it. She gripped her hands together, praying for the strength to lie convincingly to him. ‘I…I had a visitor this morning.’ She wanted to turn away from him, but realised too late that since she was seated opposite him she could scarcely do so.
‘Er—it was Ian, to be exact… His engagement to Anna is finished. He’s asked me… He wants me to go back to him, and I…well, you already know that I…that I…’ She swallowed hard, finding it almost impossible to voice the lie but knowing she had to do so.
‘That you what?’ Stuart prompted her. ‘That you love him?’
She nodded, unable to continue.
‘Odd. Especially when less than an hour ago I myself heard you telling him that you most assuredly did not love him and that you had no intention of returning to London with him.’
Sara couldn’t believe her ears. ‘You heard? But you couldn’t… You…’
‘I came back for the Land Rover keys… The study door wasn’t properly closed. I had already seen the strange car outside. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but when I heard what he was saying to you…’
He paused and Sara asked weakly, ‘How long? How much…? No, Stuart. Please don’t,’ she protested huskily, as he got up out of his chair and came towards her, his intention plainly written in his eyes.
‘Well, let’s just say I was there long enough to hear you say you loved me,’ he told her tenderly, as he reached for her, almost lifting her bodily out of the chair and wrapping her in his arms, her protests and denials smothered against his mouth as he started to kiss her.
‘Those words were almost the sweetest music I’ll ever hear.’
‘Almost?’ she mumbled helplessly against his mouth. ‘But—’
‘The sweetest ones will be when we stand up in church together and you say “I will”. Sara, Sara, I can’t believe it, even now,’ he groaned, kissing her fiercely and hugging her. ‘You love me… I admit I’d hoped that with time and patience one day you might, but to hear you tell him…’
‘Stuart, please, it isn’t any use… I still can’t marry you. Not when I know that you love someone else. You must see that it wouldn’t be fair to either of us.’
‘Me, love someone else?’ He had stopped kissing her and had moved back slightly from her so that he could look down into her eyes. ‘What on earth do you mean? Of course I love you. I have done from the moment I set eyes on you. It was as if I was being pole-axed…as if I was being hit by a falling redwood…the shock of it damn near killed me. One moment I was a sane, well-adjusted man of thirty-odd, going about his business; the next… The next, I’d taken one look at you and known, known immediately and irrefutably that my life was changed for all time.’
‘Stuart…that can’t be true. You told me yourself there had been someone…Sally.’
‘Sally?’ He looked totally bewildered. ‘The only Sally I know is my sister-in-law, and as for there being someone else… There have been some relationships, I admit, relationships which I might have thought might lead to a permanent commitment, but there’s never been a woman who’s made me feel the way you make me feel. If I implied otherwise, it wasn’t intentional.’
‘You told me…you said…you implied that you knew what it was like to love someone and know that love couldn’t be returned. I assumed it must be someone in Canada—that you’d bought the house for her but that she’d rejected you.’
‘Canada? Never! You… Wait a minute.’ He started to smile. ‘Ah, the night we met when I looked at you and knew, knew you were the one. You were the woman I wanted, needed. It threw me a bit. And then you told me about Ian.’
‘Ian.’ She gave a small shudder. ‘I can’t believe now that I ever even liked him, never mind loved him. He’s so shallow, so, so…’
‘Unimportant to us and our future together,’ Stuart suggested lovingly. ‘Shall we just consign him to the past, and close the door on him, then? I can certainly think of far more important things we can talk about.’
‘Such as?’ Sara asked him dizzily.
‘Such as how it felt to hold you in my arms last night, to hold you and make love to you, and how much I want to repeat that experience…so much so that I don’t think I can wait another three weeks.’
‘You really did make that bed for me, didn’t you?’ Sara marvelled, blushing a little as she heard the passion, the desire in his voice.
‘I really made it for both of us,’ he teased her, ‘but yes, the carving was for you. A symbol of my love…a labour of love, if you like. Last night…I didn’t mean it to happen, you know. I just wanted to reassure you, to show you that you were wrong, that you were desirable, but when I touched you…’
She felt him shudder. ‘I just couldn’t control my reaction to you, my need for you, my love, and then when you were so…so inviting…so responsive, I wanted to stay with you, to wake up with you in my arms, but I was afraid of crowding you, of pressing too much intimacy on you too soon. I still couldn’t bring myself to wake you up and send you home, though. If I couldn’t have you in my bed, then at least I could keep you under my roof. I love you, Sara.’
‘I love you,’ she responded, the words blurred and softened by the pressure of his mouth.
‘Well, no one could possibly doubt that they’re in love,’ Margaret commented softly to Ben as they stood side by side, watching as Sara and Stuart emerged from the church, his arm around her, her face turned up towards his as he paused to kiss her.
The bells pealed an exultant message of joy, the pageboys protested shrilly that they wanted to change into their jeans, the bride’s mother dabbed at her eyes, the sun shone and the happiness of the occasion spilled out across the ancient churchyard, enveloping both the guests and the onlookers.
‘When Sara first told me she was going to marry Stuart, I…’ Margaret broke off, shaking her head. ‘I’ve never seen her look so happy…so…so fulfilled.’
‘Don’t say that too loudly,’ Ben warned her with a grin, adding, when she gave him a puzzled look, ‘the fulfilment bit isn’t supposed to happen until tonight, or am I being old-fashioned?’
‘Hopelessly,’ Margaret told him forthrightly, kissing him fondly on the cheek.
‘Still love me?’ Stuart murmured softly in Sara’s ear.
She turned her head, giving him such a luminous and betraying look of adoration that his heart turned over in his chest.
‘Do you really need to ask?’ she whispered back.
‘Mmm… No, not really.’
‘Do you love me?’
‘Just wait until tonight, when I can show you as well as tell you.’
Sara flushed a little and laughed, and then whispered teasingly, ‘Think you’ll still love me in four months’ time when I’m starting to look like a balloon?’
For a moment she thought he hadn’t understood, but then the realisation dawned in his eyes, and his hand tightened on her arm as he demanded incredulously, ‘Are you trying to tell me…?’
‘That I’m pregnant,’ she supplied for him. ‘Well, I’m not one hundred per cent sure, only ninety-nine point nine, but yes, I think so.’
She heard him laugh and groan at the same time as he exclaimed, ‘What a time and place to choose to tell me!’
‘I wasn’t really sure myself until last night. I know it’s a bit sooner than we’d planned.’
He must have caught the anxiety in her voice, because he pulled her to him and held her tenderly, telling her softly, ‘It couldn’t possibly be too soon as far as I’m concerned. I love you, Sara.’ He bent his head and kissed her, oblivious to the amusement of the onlookers, and the arrested, disgusted look on the faces of the two small pageboys.
‘Yuck,’ the elder c
ommented to his sibling. ‘Look at that, soppy things…kissing!’
‘Mmm. Soppy things indeed,’ Margaret murmured to Ben, ‘And long may they continue to be so. Which reminds me…’
‘Have a little respect, woman,’ Ben urged her, trying not to laugh. ‘Remember this is sacred ground.’
‘That doesn’t seem to be stopping Stuart and Sara,’ his wife pointed out sweetly to him.
‘No, it doesn’t, does it?’ he agreed, his smile broadening, and he followed Stuart’s example and took his wife in his arms.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-1407-5
SECOND-BEST HUSBAND
Copyright © 1991 by Penny Jordan
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