It was time to take the risk and make her dream come true or live the rest of her life with regret about what could have been.
The problem was, as she smoothed the bubbles over her now very wrinkly skin, her kind treacherous heart was reliving over and over again those moments she had shared with Heath.
Her skin ached to feel his touch.
Her heart ached with his loss.
Compared to that, her aching muscles were nothing.
An hour later she struggled out of the bath, literally glowing with hot water and bubbles and threw on the first clothing she found in the top drawer, little caring who saw her in her scraggy old shorts and tiny string top.
Kate strolled downstairs, glancing only briefly into what had been her parlour and was now a large, mostly empty space which was aching to be cleaned and reclaimed. There was still a huge amount of work to do, but a smile creased her face as she walked out through her kitchen door onto the patio garden.
Totally drained, she slumped down on the old silver-grey wooden bench with her hands wrapped around a glass of cool water out of the tap, because there was nothing else in the fridge except some date-expired orange juice, and pushed her legs out in front of her to cool off in the shade, a pile of mail and paperwork by her side.
This was her space now. This patio was full of weeds, the once pristine grass and flower beds a jungle of overgrown plants and straggly neglected roses and shrubs. But it was hers. And she was reclaiming this garden, just as she was reclaiming her house and her dream.
All they needed was someone to love them.
This was it. This was her life.
She loved this place so much and she had let it go to ruin.
Frightened to take on such an enormous task.
Frightened to do it alone.
Frightened to do the work and fail.
Kidding herself that she wanted to live this way and would get around to it when she found the time and energy.
Balderdash and piffle.
Strange how this garden was so much like her life. She had deliberately chosen to leave the garden pretty much as her grandparents had loved it.
Just like the workshop.
What had Heath said? That she was going back to a museum?
Full marks to the man in the suit.
Zero marks to the woman who had created the museum in the first place out of a world that had once been so full of life and laughter and happiness. As if keeping the physical things unchanged would bring back the people who had loved her and made her feel special and wanted.
So much for the great, brave Kate Lovat.
Katherine Lovat wasn’t brave at all. She was just very good at being in denial.
Shame on her. Shame on her cowardice.
She didn’t deserve Heath.
But she was going to.
Kate blinked her eyes and sat up straight on the bench.
She needed Heath. She wanted Heath. And if that meant fighting for him then so be it. He had filled her dreams and thoughts from the moment she’d driven away from Jardine Manor but it was not nearly enough.
She had a wedding to go to. Pity that she would be spending her time ogling the best man rather than the bride and groom. But one thing was certain.
The last few hours had shown her what she could do when she put her mind to a task.
No more compromises. No more excuses.
Kate dropped her head back and grinned as the July sunshine warmed her skin.
Watch out, Heath Sheridan, I’m coming to get you!
* * *
‘Well, that looks comfy,’ came a man’s voice from her neighbour’s garden.
Kate shot upright and looked around, froze and looked again.
Heath Sheridan was leaning on the fence which divided the garden from the antique dealer’s. His arms were stretched out in front of him and a sweet smile played across his face.
She stared at him in stunned silence, her heart racing with the shock of seeing his face. It was almost like a dream come true.
‘Heath?’ she gasped. ‘What on earth are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at the wedding!’
‘I slipped away for a few hours,’ he quipped with a grin, ‘to chat up one of the bridesmaids. They have things pretty much under control so I thought that I would leave somebody else in charge for once. I thought that I might surprise you.’
She closed her eyes and dropped her head down with a groan. The next thing she knew, there was a creaking sound and she blinked up just as Heath vaulted over the fence with his long legs as though it was nothing and strolled casually the few steps towards her.
‘You weren’t answering your phone or your front door. So I decided to take direct action. Don’t you think that was rather bold of me?’
‘Bold. Bold? Oh, Heath.’
Kate looked up into his smiling face and they grinned at one another.
But she couldn’t say the words she needed, so she blustered instead.
‘You have had a terrible influence on me, Sheridan,’ she said and picked up the top sheet of invoices which she had brought back from her studio.
‘Look at this. I am going to have to learn about spreadsheets and how to do calculations and costings and don’t get me started about the Internet auction sites. Why did nobody warn me that they are so addictive? And I only went on them to sell gloves.’
‘Sold many?’ he asked and perched on the edge of the bench next to her.
Too close. Too, too close.
‘Lots. Even the pink cotton elbow-length with the seed-pearl trim. Prom-night specials. Amber has been coming up with the marketing slogans for costumiers and fashionistas but Saskia has taken over the actual posting. Apparently I am not to be trusted with combining a customer’s address with a glove box with the correct glove in the size they ordered. And she might be right there.’
Kate pressed her lips together tight as she stood up and gathered together her things, suddenly needing to create some distance between them where the truth would not be so hard to express. ‘No more locked doors. That ship has sailed, and I realise now that I was only keeping it on because of my granddad. But I am keeping the tools,’ she gushed. ‘I won’t stop making gloves.’
‘I expected nothing less,’ Heath replied as he followed her into the kitchen, slipped off his smart tailored jacket and leant back against the cooker with his arms folded.
‘You’re the girl who gave her best gloves to a perfect stranger. Alice says hello, by the way and... What? What is it...?’ He looked around to see what Kate was staring at, open-mouthed. ‘Is something the matter?’
‘My eyes! You’re wearing...a polo shirt.’
‘Ah,’ Heath replied and ran his hand down the front of the pale blue short-sleeved top. ‘Yes. Apparently my new step-uncle enjoys golfing.’ He looked down at her through his eyelashes. ‘What do you think?’
‘Think? I am too stunned to think and...what is that? Sticking out from under your sleeve?’
She slapped her hand over her mouth. ‘I don’t believe it. Of all things. You. Heath Sheridan, of the Boston Sheridans. Has a tattoo.’
Heath replied by unfolding his arms, reaching down and tugging the polo shirt over his head.
He ignored the gasp from the lady sitting at the table in the tiny kitchen and turned and flexed his biceps at her.
‘The artist was a little inexperienced and we weren’t quite sure how to spell Katharine but I think it works.’
The silence in the room was so thick Heath could almost touch it, until Kate exhaled long and slow.
‘It does work. Very well, indeed.’
‘That’s my girl.’ Heath nodded and strolled over to the table, reached out and hoisted her onto the table so that she was sitting with her
legs hanging over the edge.
In a second she was in his arms with her head pressed sideways on his bare chest. This time there was no struggle or bluster, just the feeling of the girl he wanted against his skin. And nothing he had done had ever felt so right.
‘I have some bad news.’ Her voice was muffled and she lifted her chin so that she could smile coquettishly at him.
‘Hit me with it.’
‘Katherine is spelt with a middle letter e. No a. Can you stand the pain to have it changed?’
He grinned and revelled in the simple pleasure of pushing her hair back from her forehead with his fingertips as his gaze locked onto her face as though it was the most fascinating thing that he had ever seen. ‘Sorry. Did you say something? I was otherwise occupied,’ Heath replied with a low growl at the back of his throat, then casually glanced down at his tattoo.
‘Oh. The body art. No problem.’
He released one arm, licked his fingertip and rubbed it against the letter, which instantly melted and blurred.
‘Alice sacrificed some of her best watercolour pens. I hope you like the flowers and hearts—that was my idea. Dad was responsible for the actual drawing because Alice was laughing too much and...’
She pressed one finger against his lips.
‘You tattooed my name on your arm. And you asked your parents to help. I’m not sure if I can take any more surprises.’ She sucked in a breath and pressed both of her hands flat against his chest. ‘I have to ask. I’m scared to ask...but it must be done.’ Then she sighed out her question in one complete breath. ‘Does Alice hate me for running away?’
‘Alice does not hate you. Far from it. We had a long talk this morning and it turns out that she is actually willing to put up with me to make my father happy.’
‘Really? I knew that I liked her straight away. Smart girl.’
‘The smartest. And I like her too. But you know what that means, don’t you?’
‘Lots of family dinners?’
‘I was thinking of something more important I have to decide on first. You see, I want to stop being your pretend boyfriend and start being the man who is good enough to be called your real boyfriend. Do you think I can do it?’
‘What do you mean, you want to be my real boyfriend?’ Kate asked with a lilt in her voice, her heart thumping. Her blood racing.
‘As in stand up and shout it out to everyone in the street and in front of the family at my dad’s wedding and for the entire world to hear kind of boyfriend.’
‘Ah. That kind. Is that all you want?’ she asked in a low soft voice.
Heath lowered his head so that his forehead was pressed against hers and gently, gently brushed his warm full lips against hers.
‘I want to be your friend,’ he whispered and started to nibble on her lower lip before tilting her head back so that he was taking the complete weight of her body in his arms, and she was helpless to resist the delicious pleasure of a deep, sensual, tender kiss which left them both breathless at the end of it.
‘Your lover,’ he added and ran the fingertips of both hands down the centre of her back from neck to hips. ‘And the man whose smiling face you wake up to every morning.’
‘Me?’ she whispered as her head tried to catch up with the surge of emotions and sensation that were sweeping through her. ‘I am still impulsive and irresponsible. That is not going to change.’
‘Good,’ he murmured as his mouth found the sensitive hollow beneath her ear. ‘And now it’s my turn to talk, because you missed out a few things. Such as the fact that you are sexy beyond belief, and I can be swept away by the way you light up a room.’
He stepped back and she instantly missed his touch but he pressed one finger to her lips and, as she watched, the deep caramel of his eyes melted into warm butterscotch.
‘I want you,’ he whispered. ‘For the first time in my life I know what I want and I am not going to question it or overanalyse it. I simply know that I am never going to look at another woman and feel the way I feel about you. You take my breath away.’
His smile spread into a grin so infectious and warm that it penetrated the last remaining barriers around her heart and blew away any lingering doubt.
‘I am in love with you, Kate. You are the girl who rocks my world and fills my dreams at night.’ He squeezed her hand and looked deep into her eyes. ‘I even wrote you a love letter, which I understand is the romantic thing to do. I realise that I shall have to work on my bookbinding but I did have to improvise.’
Heath dived into his trouser pocket and pulled out a piece of white typing paper which had been folded in half and stapled down the spine. A red stick-on gift ribbon had been added to the top and the glue was starting to lift, but Kate stared at it in wonder.
‘That is the most beautiful booklet that I have ever seen. But tell me the message. I want to hear you say the words out loud.’
Heath put down the paper, cupped her head in both of his hands and gazed into her face. ‘I struggled with the exact phrase but I know how you like people to say how they feel and not waffle on for ages.’
‘Heath. Tell me now. What does the letter say?’
He smiled and kissed the end of her nose. ‘I wrote—Stop talking and kiss me.’
‘I couldn’t have put it better myself.’
THIRTEEN
Kate snatched a calming breath and took a minute to cool down as Alice fidgeted on the back seat of the vintage Rolls Royce and checked for the third time in five minutes that the stunning diamond tiara Charles had presented to her as his wedding gift was not in danger of tumbling from her head, bringing the vintage lace veil down with it.
Little chance of that, Kate thought. Alice’s hair had been gelled, sprayed and pinned into glossy sleek submission by a team of expert hairdressers who had already been hard at work by the time Heath had pulled up outside the Manor in his dad’s car.
Of course she had protested about turning up to an elegant wedding wearing shorts and a strappy top, but he had insisted. She was perfect as she was. He didn’t want her to change a thing. And the people who mattered would not care a jot. And those who would care didn’t matter. Not to him. Not any more.
It had taken four attempts before he’d stopped cuddling her long enough so that she could pack a bag, again, with what she needed from her bedroom. Not that she was complaining. Far from it. She had dreamt of lying in Heath’s arms for so long. And the reality was even better than she could have imagined. This was really saying something.
In the end, it had been a mad dash to make it back to the Manor in time to get changed, phone calls flying back and forward every minute of the way. But, even so, she had barely time to hug Alice before slipping on the bridesmaid’s dress and matching gloves. The dress fitted perfectly.
As for the shoes?
Alice had chosen the shoes and they were magical. Ivory-and-beige lace, low-heel courts. With a big satin bow on the heel. No stilettos or platforms today. Not when she was carrying the train of Alice’s absolutely stunning designer crystal and pearl-embellished strapless oyster silk taffeta extravaganza. She had seen the dress in a Paris wedding shop almost eleven years earlier when she had fallen in love with Charles for the first time and kept it hidden safely away in her hope chest until today.
This truly was her dream come true, and every girl in the room, including the two cousins, Alice’s elderly aunt, and even the Dowager Sheridan great-aunt, had simply melted when they saw her in it for the first time. Alice was breathtaking.
Then Heath had popped his head around the bedroom door, which caused much screaming from the cousins, to give a five-minute warning that the boys were just about to leave. He was wearing morning dress, which fitted him to perfection, and her foolish teenage girl’s heart just about leapt out of her chest at the sight of him, especially when
he gave her a toe to head scan followed by a very personal saucy wink.
That was when the panic started. Four bridesmaids and a lovely bride. All frantic. It wasn’t pretty.
Someone slid a fascinator made of feathers and cream rosebuds into her hair, but in all of the rush she had no idea who.
But now here they were. Gliding to a halt outside the tiny stone church where Alice’s ancestors had gathered for baptisms, weddings and funerals for generations. Her uncle and a cluster of photographers and guests were gathered in the warm sunshine, all waiting for the bride.
One minute ahead of schedule. Heath would be delighted.
Alice reached out and held Kate’s hand for a fraction of a second before she took a couple of deep calming breaths and slowly exhaled.
This was it. Kate gave her new friend a tiny hug and a grin, and then practically leapt out the second the driver opened the door so that she was ready to hand Alice her wonderful, perfect bouquet.
Kate and the other guests sighed out loud as Alice stepped out of the car. She looked so stunningly beautiful and happy that every second of the work of the last few days seemed worth it a thousand times over.
It only took a minute to adjust the short, heavy silk taffeta train before Alice glanced back to Kate over her shoulder and beamed the glorious smile of a happy bride before taking the arm of her handsome, debonair uncle.
Above them the church bells rang out an old tune and, by some hidden signal, the ancient church doors swung open and the opening bars of the Wedding March drifted out of the high arched stone entrance.
With a single nod from Alice, Kate picked up the train, the other three bridesmaids stepped into line and, with a rustle of the heavy silk taffeta gown on the stone paving, Alice and her uncle stepped into the narrow aisle and began their stately way down the church filled with their friends and family, who had turned out en masse with smiling faces to share their happiness.
Bright July sunlight beamed through the stained-glass window above the altar so that the air was tinted with subtle pinks, lilacs and blue tones, contrasting with the garlands of cream lilies, bright ivy and roses decorating the ends of the pews. The sweet heady perfume of the flowers lifted with their every step.
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