Iggy watched Arthur take Lucie’s hand and place a kiss on it before he draped it over his shoulder and pulled her close. They swayed together in time to the music, seeming oblivious to everyone else around them. ‘Do you think he’ll be okay?’ she asked Tristan as he claimed the empty seat beside her.
‘In time, he will. Lucie will see to that.’ He slung an arm across the back of her chair. ‘What a bloody mess.’
‘Yes.’
‘He wasn’t wrong.’
‘No.’
‘What are you going to do about it?’
It was on the tip of her tongue to say there wasn’t anything to do about it, but she stopped herself. ‘I need some air.’
Tristan didn’t protest as she left him sitting at the table and escaped out into the slightly cooler night air beyond the marquee. The fountains had been switched back on, the dancing curtains illuminated in brilliant shades of green, purple and red by the hidden coloured spotlights. Instead of turning away, Iggy strode towards them.
When had she become the kind of person who shied away from the hard things in life? When had she ever given up on anything she truly wanted? She’d chosen to go to the Agricultural University even though it had meant being separated from her brothers for the first time in their lives. She’d locked horns with their tenants and sweated night and day until she’d proven to them she was capable at overseeing the estate lands better than anyone with twice as much experience. She’d overseen all the hard work it had taken to restore the gardens to their former glory. However badly things had ended, if she hadn’t sought out Will’s assistance, they wouldn’t have this remarkable new part of the gardens, either.
Pride filled her as she pressed her toes into the dew-damp grass beneath her bare feet. This land was in her, blood and bone. It was her home, and all she’d ever thought she wanted or needed. But once she was dead and gone, the land would still be here, and other Ludworths would come and go and make their mark upon it before they too became dust upon the wind. She’d done what she needed to do to pay homage to her past, it was time to seize her future.
Determination burning in her veins, Iggy gathered the long skirts of her dress and started to run towards the steps. She was halfway up when a voice she’d feared never to hear again spoke her name.
‘Igraine.’
Halting, she stared up at the shadowed figure standing at the top of the steps. ‘What are you doing here?’
Hands in his pockets, Will stepped down onto the riser before her. A beam from one of the spotlights caught the side of his face, throwing the scar onto his cheek into harsh illumination. His eyes remained hidden from her in the half-light. ‘I came here to talk to you, but it looks like you’re in a hurry.’
‘I was coming to find you,’ she admitted.
That twisty smile she loved so much tugged at the corner of his mouth. ‘But you didn’t know where I was.’
She shrugged. ‘As if I was going to let a little thing like that stop me. I’m very determined when I know what I want.’
Moving down until he was level with her, Will crowded into her space until their bodies were a bare inch apart. ‘And what’s that?’ he said, voice rough with a need that echoed the one deep inside her.
‘You. Always, and forever. I thought Bluebell Castle was my home, that I needed to be here to feel whole, but I was wrong.’ Raising her hand, she pressed it over his heart. ‘This is my home.’
‘Igraine.’ His arms banded around them, trapping her hand between them as he bent his head and claimed her mouth.
It wasn’t an easy kiss, like the ones that so often ended a fairy tale. Just like their life together would be, it was hard, and demanding, and a little bit messy as they pulled at each other in their desperate need to be ever closer together. His hands found her hair and tugged her curls free from the complicated chignon they’d been pinned up into, and she managed to wriggle hers out from beneath them and grab at the back of his T-shirt as she sought and found the hot, smooth skin of his back.
No, definitely not a fairy tale kiss. But it was perfect, and it was real, and it was everything she wanted for the rest of her life.
Epilogue
The sounds of children’s shrieking laughter filled the air as Iggy wound her way around the packed stalls covering the grass amphitheatre beneath the sparkling fountains of the water garden. A huge splash followed by a roar of laughter and cheers drew her eyes across the showground to where Arthur had once more been plunged into the huge dunk tank by a lucky strike on target. Shoving water from his eyes, Arthur gave a wave to the gathered crowd and gamely clambered back up to resume his position on the mechanised seat.
‘Dunk the baronet’ was proving one of the most popular draws from the queue of people lined up to take their turn, and every penny spent was going towards a good cause. Rather than just create an area in the garden where children could come and have fun digging and planting, they were looking into setting up a proper charitable trust. The Ector and Kay Ludworth Memorial Foundation was still in the earliest development stages, but Iggy was hopeful she could turn it into a reality from which she could run educational programmes for schools in the local area, and maybe further afield one day.
Warm arms looped around her waist, and Will kiss dropped onto the spot beneath her ear that never failed to make her squirm with pleasure. ‘When’s it your turn in the tank?’ he asked.
Leaning back into his solid chest, she glanced up at him. ‘Never mind about me, it’s you the crowds have all come to see. If I can get you on that ducking stool, we’ll raise a fortune.’
He laughed against her cheek. ‘You just want to see me in a wet T-shirt.’
She turned in his arms. ‘I’d much rather see you out of it.’ As she stretched up to claim a kiss, she spotted a couple of shyly grinning girls over his shoulder. ‘Oops, your fan club’s found you again.’
‘Hold that thought,’ he growled, squeezing her hips before he released her and turned with a smile to beckon the girls over. He’d been like that all morning, showing infinite patience from the moment he’d cut the ceremonial ribbon to official open the fete and instead of the crowd pouring onto the showground, most of them had clamoured around him for autographs and selfies. For a man who professed to hate publicity as much as Will, he was putting on a damn good show for the crowd, and she was infinitely grateful to him for it.
Placing a hand on his back, she said. ‘I’m going to check on everyone, I’ll see you over by the tea tent in a bit, okay?’
‘Okay, sweetheart.’ He flashed her that smile of his, and it wasn’t just the giggling teens ready to swoon over him.
She took her time working her way around towards the refreshment tent, pausing to check with the various vendors that everything was okay, and that none of them had any problems. They seemed to be doing a roaring trade, and there were already huge lines curling around the various food trucks as the public fed their never-ending appetite for junk food. Everywhere she looked, there were smiling faces, and the face-painting stand looked to be a hit from the numbers of tiny tigers, butterflies and glittering fairies she passed in the crowds.
When she reached the tea tent, it was to find that Will had beaten her to it and was squatting down beside a table where her Aunt Morgana was talking to a woman of a similar age. With her white hair permed into tight curls, and what looked to be a hand-knitted pink cardigan over the bright flowers of her sundress, the woman looked the antithesis of Morgana in her understated navy linen and neat court shoes, but the two of them looked to be getting on like a house on fire, which delighted Iggy no end.
‘There you are, my dear.’ Mrs Tyler, Will’s old next door neighbour beamed at her as though they were old friends and not someone Will had only briefly had time to introduce her to when he’d collected her from the station late the previous evening. ‘I was just telling your aunt how proud I am of everything you and my Will have achieved here.’
She reached out to cup Will’s cheek with her gn
arled fingers. ‘And to think that none of this might have happened if I hadn’t fallen off that damn ladder all those years ago.’
Will turned his face to press a kiss to her palm. ‘I thought I was rescuing you that day, but it was the other way around, wasn’t it?’
‘Stuff and nonsense,’ she said, but Iggy could tell from the colour on her cheeks she was pleased none the same. ‘You always had a special talent inside you all along, you just needed someone to spot that potential in you.’
As Will straightened up, Iggy slid into his side, her arm curling around his waist and his about her shoulders in that puzzle-piece perfect fit they’d already found together. ‘What about you?’ he murmured, nuzzling his lips against her cheek. ‘Do you think I’ve got any special talents?’
Laughing, Iggy stroked his cheek, loving the contrast of rough and smooth on his cheek which said so much of the soul inside the man. ‘Let’s say you’ve got potential.’
Acknowledgements
Welcome back to Bluebell Castle! I can’t tell you how much fun I had tormenting poor Iggy and Will on the way to their happy ending. They really gave me the runaround as I tried to write their story, but I’m thrilled with how their story turned out in the end. I hope you will agree they are a perfect match for one another.
I’d like to take a few moments to pay tribute to everyone who continues to support me through book after book, especially all my lovely readers. Every message, every note, every lovely comment I receive about one of my books gives me such an amazing boost – thank you. x
Huge thanks as ever to my wonderful husband. I couldn’t do this without you. x
To my fantastic editor, Charlotte Mursell, who is simply the best. x
#TeamHQ. I am beyond lucky to be working with such an incredible publishing team, long may it continue!
My online support network of fellow writers, who prove every day why this is the best job in the world. Thank you, Philippa, Jules, Darcie, Bella and Rachel for getting me through the tough times and making sure I celebrate the good ones. I love you all. x
Finally, to all the book bloggers and reviewers out there who give up their time to support authors and spread their love of reading far and wide. Thank you! x
Starlight Over Bluebell Castle
Sarah Bennett
For M – for everything xx
Prologue
Beaman and Tanner’s Christmas Party – Seven Years Ago
Jessica Ridley tilted back her head to watch the illuminated number above the door of the lift as it scrolled past floor after floor on its way to the penthouse level of the luxury hotel overlooking the London Embankment. Beaman and Tanner, the events and PR firm she’d been working for since graduating that May, had hired the entertainment space for their staff Christmas party. With access to the roof terrace above the penthouse included, it promised to be one of the best spots in town to take in a spectacular view of the London Eye all lit up for Christmas later in the evening.
If she could still see at that point. She pressed a fingertip to the corner of her eye, barely resisting the urge to rub, and cursed her decision to wear the contact lenses she’d been talked into trying by her mother. The lift dinged to announce her arrival, and the discomfort of her new lenses was soon forgotten as a hostess in a stunning black dress stepped forward to greet her with a smile. In short order, her name had been checked off on the hostess’s list and Jess had been steered towards the ladies’ cloakroom to divest herself of her coat and boots.
Hanging up the little backpack she’d used to carry her silver evening bag and black heels, Jess swapped the cosy boots for the strappy, sophisticated shoes and muttered a small prayer of thanks for the gel inserts her mum had reminded her to buy. When her school friends had been cramming their toes into the latest fashionable footwear, Jess had been clumping around in the Clarks wide-fit brogues Mum had insisted upon. She might be blessedly free of corns, hammertoes and other unsightly horrors she’d been warned cheap shoes would cause, but all that growing room meant her size seven adult feet were not the right shape for most high heels within her limited price range.
It took a couple of halting steps before she found her balance on the thick pile carpet. A couple of lengths of the wide area between the cubicles and the sinks later, she was feeling more confident of her footing. Her blasted eye started itching again, sending Jess scurrying over to the sinks to check her make-up in the brightly lit mirrors. Satin-lined wicker baskets rested in the spaces between each white porcelain bowl, stuffed with every imaginable emergency supply a woman could need from tampons to deodorant and perfume. She even spotted a little sewing kit tucked into one corner.
With a damp cotton bud, she managed to remove the small streak of mascara beneath one eye without destroying her eyeliner. Much heavier than her usual neutral shades, the black liner and sparkling silver eye shadow made her olive-green eyes look huge. It was strange seeing the whole of her face without the comforting shield of the dark-framed glasses she was used to seeing perched on the bridge of her button nose. She felt oddly naked without them.
Make-up checked, shoes and bag exchanged, there was really no excuse for Jess to linger in the bathroom any longer. She cast a quick glance towards the cubicles, contemplating the wisdom of a pre-emptive wee, before deciding against it. By the time she’d wrestled down her tights and the enormous Bridget Jones pants beneath them, she’d be all hot and bothered. Before she could change her mind, Jess forced herself to leave the safety of the bathroom and returned to the lobby to find the smiling hostess waiting at a discreet distance. With a sweep of her arm, she ushered Jess towards the entrance to the party then left her with a quiet wish that she enjoy her evening, the siren call of the lift summoning her to greet a new arrival.
Smoothing a nervous hand over one velvet-clad hip Jess took a deep breath, fighting the temptation to tug at the hem of her party dress which suddenly felt at least three inches too short. The midnight-blue sheath had been an impulse purchase when she submitted to her mother’s cajoling and joined her in the buffeting, shoving crowds thronging Regent Street a couple of weekends ago. A clever section of ruching stretched from a diamante flower on her left-hand side across to the opposite hip, falling in forgiving waves that disguised any hint of a tummy her support pants had failed to suck in. The wide shoulder straps provided perfect cover for her bra, the front scooped low enough to show off her décolletage without flashing more than she was willing to share with anyone other than a lover – not that she had many of those lined up. Though she’d had had her fair share of boyfriends at university, none had developed into anything long-term.
Only one man had caught her eye since leaving university, and Tristan Ludworth was so far out of her league she could drape herself naked across his desk and he’d probably still not take the hint. Not that Jess did any hinting. Just the sight of Tristan was enough to make her feel giddy and off-balance, like being in a high-speed lift. She could hold her own with him when it came to work stuff, but only by removing her glasses whenever he was in the vicinity. A blurry, out of focus Tristan was a lot easier to cope with.
The only other man she’d had a serious long-term crush on was her older brother’s best friend, Steve, back when she was thirteen and first starting to notice boys. He’d always felt like a safe option to practice her new and tender feelings on. Their mothers had been friends for years, and Steve had always been a familiar presence in her life. He’d tolerated her awkward teenage flirting with kindness, and never made her feel foolish.
Nothing about the way Tristan made her feel was safe. Exhilarating, yes, with a hint of something dangerous and outside her comfort zone. Like riding a roller-coaster, when she’d always preferred the steady even pace of the merry-go-round.
For a fleeting moment she wished she’d stuck with the perfectly serviceable black crepe evening dress hanging unused in her wardrobe. It had always been her plan to wear it tonight – sophisticated and understated, her mother had assured her when s
he’d first bought it as a wardrobe staple, pointing out how the forgiving drape of the material hid the excess weight that seemed to settle around her middle and bottom the moment she even glanced at a slice of cake. Safe and boring more like, a mutinous little voice had whispered in the back of her mind – perfect for someone who had never chosen the road less travelled in any of her twenty-two years. Head down, study hard, do the right thing, had been the mantras she’d carried from childhood into uneventful adulthood. Just lately those mantras had started to feel less like sensible rules to live by and more like the restraining reins her parents had made her wear as a clumsy toddler eager to explore.
The arch of her mother’s eyebrow when she’d descended the stairs at home earlier might have dented her confidence had her dad not swooped in to twirl her around before planting a kiss on her cheek and declaring she’d be the belle of the ball. Her mum’s face had softened then and she too had kissed Jess before bombarding her with such a flurry of questions about what she was taking with her – yes, she had her gloves, no, she hadn’t forgotten her personal alarm, yes, she would be careful and take a taxi if she was at any risk of walking on her own for any distance – that she’d not had time to consider whether she should change her dress until she’d been ensconced on an overheated tube train whisking her in from the suburbs, and by then it had been too late. Only now, dithering as she was, she wished she’d stuck to her usual, practical style.
‘God, Jess, just open the bloody door,’ she muttered, furious with herself.
‘Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness, or so they say.’ The voice purring just behind her ear sent a shiver down Jess’s spine that had nothing to do with nerves. Feeling a blush rising to burn her cheeks, she tilted her head to glance up and back into the face of a fallen angel. And if there was anyone who could tempt her into sin it was Tristan Ludworth. As ever when she met the hint of wicked humour in his chocolate brown eyes, butterflies fluttered in her middle.
The Bluebell Castle Collection Page 48