The Accidental Bride (Black Lace) Read online

  I’m being really stupid. It isn’t as if the Queen’s coming round for a burger or a burnt sausage. These are all my friends, plus John’s brother, who’s apparently a sweetheart anyway. And Shelley’s bloke, who I’m sure is also a fairly normal human being. Well, sort of …

  It was all under control. It would be fun. She had to calm down.

  John came to her, across the room, and stood behind her as she frowned into the mirror. With his hands on her shoulders, she felt the twanging of her nerves settle. Ever since she’d first met him, she been aware of this hypnotic way he had, and how it affected her, and now he was using it to cool her fears and make her relax.

  ‘See … Don’t we look a fabulous couple?’ He smiled at her in the mirror, his eyes wise and blue as he did something amazing with his thumbs that unzipped the tension in her shoulders like a miracle cure.

  He was right too. They did look great. And seeing the heat in John’s eyes only affirmed what she knew in herself. At the risk of being big-headed about it, she looked a knockout in her newly finished red and white flower patterned sundress. It was something she’d had half done in a dress bag, not sure when she’d have an opportunity to wear it, but she’d completed it during the week for the party, in spare moments.

  In fact, she’d been sewing like a maniac altogether this week, with John away several nights on business in Belgium. It’d been a perfect time to catch up on a lot of New Again alterations and some original commissions too. She’d worked so hard and, with help from Mary, she’d almost got ahead of herself. And the intensely focused concentration, the Zen quality of really getting in the zone with a garment, was the ideal panacea for missing the man she adored and yearned to be with.

  ‘If you were some fancy air-head of a mistress, you could have come with me,’ he’d said, when suited and booted and just about to leave, ‘but as you’re a businesswoman yourself now, as well as a highly sought-after craftswoman, I can’t just drag you off with me whenever I want to, can I?’

  ‘No, you can’t,’ she’d asserted, just a teeny-tiny part of her psyche wishing she could just chuck everything up and travel with him. The main bit of her, though, was newly proud and thrilled that at last she did have a career and purpose of her own, a great partner to work with in Marie, and that her days of bumbling through life, not amounting to very much, were a thing of the past.

  John didn’t define her, but she loved him ever more each day for helping her to achieve her potential. It sounded like a cliché, but it was true.

  She smoothed her hands over the full skirt of her dress, and the vivid, quite garishly patterned fabric that just somehow worked and looked adorable. With her hair in a ponytail, and her lips tinted and eyelashes dyed, she’d nailed a look that was both casual and prettily party-style at the same time. Especially with her diamond earrings to add that extra touch of glamour. If you were going to entertain your mates in a five point two million pound mansion house, there was no point in holding back on the bling, was there?

  And the man standing behind her, whose hands now slid around her waist, just looked like a god and a million squillion dollars rolled into one, it was as simple as that.

  You devil, you know how fab you look in blue, don’t you? She grinned at him.

  ‘Yes, I think we look pretty nifty, Mr Smith.’ Observing his answering smile, she squeaked when he pulled her closer and she felt him, hard against her bottom.

  With a hard-on or not, John too cut exactly the right figure for a laid-back weekend party. His suit was soft, mid-blue linen, with a slightly darker shirt. She wasn’t sure what the weather had been like in Belgium, but he still had a bit of his light, south of France tan, and the combination of that, and his blue clothing, made his eyes flash as bright as a pair of aquamarines.

  If the guests hadn’t been arriving any minute, Lizzie would have suggested that he take off his fabulous blue suit, and the rest of it, and that he ravish her furiously on the bed, in very short order. She almost did it anyway, but just at that moment, there came the sound of crunching gravel, a vehicle drawing up on the drive outside.

  ‘Shit. Damn. I was just going to suggest that we strip off again and have a quick fuck,’ said John with a soft laugh. Great minds thought alike, but then, there wasn’t often a time when they didn’t want to make love.

  With a pat on his hand, Lizzie shook herself free of John and hurried to the window. A taxi stood idling below, with Shelley standing waiting while the tall man beside her paid it off.

  The mysterious Sholto Kraft.

  ‘So that’s Sholto, then,’ Lizzie said quietly to John, who’d come up beside her.

  Sholto Kraft was tall and muscular, with brutally short hair. It was a hard look, and made harder by black jeans and T-shirt, and a boxy black jacket. His face was all tough lines too, but Lizzie felt a rush of relief when the man smiled at Shelley in a gentle, thoughtful way. Lizzie’s friend was currently staring up at the frontage of Dalethwaite Manor, and didn’t see the fond expression, but it spoke volumes about how the man at her side felt about her.

  ‘Looks a bit hard-core, doesn’t he?’ whispered John.

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Lizzie, ‘but … I dunno … I think they’ll be all right together, don’t you?’ She turned to him.

  ‘I think you’re probably right, sweetheart. Now, shall we go down and meet him, just to be sure?’ He reached for her hand and held it in both of his. It was his power grip, giving strength to her, with his touch and with the expression in his eyes that said, we’re in this together.

  ‘Absolutely. Game on!’ Not letting him let go of her, she made for the door. No shillyshallying and forever checking her face, hair, dress, whatever, allowed.

  Down in the entrance hall, Thursgood was just ushering Shelley and Sholto in the general direction of the pool.

  ‘Lizzie!’ cried Shelley, hurling herself forward. The two women had seen each other in the week, meeting with Marie to discuss Shelley’s part-time job at New Again, but Lizzie had a feeling her friend was just as nervous now as she was. Hence the almost desperate over-enthusiasm.

  Lizzie returned the bear hug, her own embrace of her friend just as full-on.

  ‘I’m so glad you’re here, Shell,’ she said. ‘Really I am. And you too, Sholto.’ As she and Shelley detached, she held out her hand to the tall, austere figure standing a little way behind her. ‘We’ve never met … I’m Lizzie, obviously, and this is John … my …’

  She turned to find him close, smiling. God, he was so at ease, the devil. ‘John Smith, Lizzie’s boyfriend. Pleased to meet you.’ He shook Sholto’s hand briskly, then gave Shelley an air kiss worthy of an A list red carpet. ‘Good to see you again, Shelley, welcome to Dalethwaite Manor. Shall we all head for the pool and get a drink?’

  Lizzie and Shelley exchanged ‘eek!’ looks as they made their way through the house and out onto the deck.

  Was there a bit of an atmosphere? Two alpha males, head to head? Lizzie monitored the two men as John handed out beer for himself and Sholto, and she automatically prepped two white wine spritzers for her friend and herself. Probably better not to get too blasted too soon.

  Lizzie’s heart thudded through a bit of nervy chat about the house, and God almighty, the weather, then Sholto said to John:

  ‘That’s a nice car you have out front there. A Bentley Gran Turismo?’

  ‘Yeah, I like it,’ John replied. ‘It’s very smooth. I don’t drive myself a great deal … Sometimes it’s handy to be driven, when I’m prepping for a meeting, but I do like the Bentley for general A to B … Want to take a look?’

  ‘Cool. That’d be great.’

  ‘Back in a bit.’ John grinned over his shoulder as the two men headed in the direction of the front of the house.

  ‘Thank God for cars!’ Lizzie grinned at Shelley. ‘Blokes all seem to have an inner petrol head, thank goodness. It’s like the universal language they can all speak when they’re at a loss.’

  ‘Thank God for John,’ sai
d Shelley with feeling. ‘I was a bit nervous coming here. I mean, not that Sholto’s weird or anything. It’s just, well, he can be a bit prickly sometimes, with the stuff that’s happened to him, and I was a bit worried he’d take against John because he has so much money and he’s so successful and everything … and he owns the house I live in.’ She lifted her glass, and clinked it to Lizzie’s. ‘But I think they’re going to be OK, fingers crossed. He seems quite relaxed, and John’s such a great guy. I can’t imagine anybody not getting on with him. He’s like … ultra-charming, but not too OTT and smarmy with it.’

  ‘I’ll tell him that,’ said Lizzie with a grin.

  ‘Oh, don’t!’

  ‘You’re right. Probably best not to,’ observed Lizzie. ‘John’s far too aware of his own gorgeousness already. And it never does to encourage a man to think he’s God’s gift. Even if he is.’

  The two laughed and sipped their drinks. Shelley stretched out on her lounger, like a contented cat. Lizzie was happy to see her friend so relaxed.

  ‘It’s fab here, Lizzie. You’re very lucky. Glorious house. Glorious man.’ Shelley shrugged and kicked off her sandals, pointing her toes. ‘But at least I’m partway there. I’ve got the bloke … and even if St Patrick’s Road isn’t Dalethwaite Manor, it’s home, and it’s … well … safe, thanks to John.’

  From the other side of the house came the sound of the Bentley’s engine firing up, followed by some aggressive revving. And then even more revving.

  ‘They’ll be in seventh heaven now,’ remarked Lizzie. ‘Boys with their toys, poring over carburettors and tappets and big ends and stuff.’

  ‘Sholto’s more of a biker really, although he doesn’t have a bike at the moment. He might get one again, though, now things are looking up a bit. He managed to pay off most of his debts with his escorting money, and now he’s got a steady job at the Waverley Metro, and I’ve got regular money coming in, so we’re not doing too badly.’ For a moment, Shelley frowned. ‘If only he’d move in full-time at St Patrick’s Road, and give up his horrid digs completely.’

  Lizzie eyed her friend. Ah, still some tension there … Just like me and John.

  ‘You’ll have to work on him. He’ll come around. Even these take-charge types can mellow eventually.’

  The two women chatted idly for a while. It was such a peaceful afternoon. Lizzie couldn’t imagine why she’d been nervous. When John and Sholto returned they were talking easily. Motorbikes, it sounded like, with John apparently considering purchasing one. Lizzie hid a grin, her mind filling with her pervading fantasy of leather trousers.

  ‘Fancy a swim, Shell?’ called Sholto after a few moments, and when Shelley roused herself and the two made their way to the changing cabana, John took her place on the lounger next to Lizzie.

  ‘Seems like a sound man,’ he said, sitting sideways on, facing her where she lay stretched out. ‘I think Shelley will be OK with him. I wouldn’t worry.’

  Lizzie gave him a provocative look over the top of her sunglasses. ‘Ah, so he’s passed the John Smith character assessment, then, has he? That’s good to know. Although, knowing Shelley, if she likes him, it wouldn’t matter in the slightest if everybody else thinks he’s a total git.’

  As she sat up to face him, John reached for her hand. ‘I hope I can rely on that degree of unswerving support from you. You haven’t forgotten we’re visiting your parents for your dad’s birthday next weekend? You will still like me if they think I’m a total git, won’t you?’

  For a fleeting moment, a look of almost boyish vulnerability crossed his face, and Lizzie drew his hand to her lips and kissed it passionately. ‘You know I like you. I love you, you dickhead! And I don’t give a monkey’s what my parents think of you.’ She kissed his knuckles again. ‘But having said that, I know they will like you. What’s not to like? You’re as charming as the day is long and you’ve got obscene mountains of money! My mother at least is amazed I’ve done so well for myself.’

  ‘You know what I mean,’ he said, his blue eyes still serious.

  She did. It was the age difference again. But she wasn’t having any of that sort of talk from him any more!

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, John. And don’t go there. How many times do I have to tell you, it doesn’t matter to me, and it doesn’t matter to me what anybody else thinks, either?’ She gave him a very fierce look. ‘Just as long as you can manage without your Zimmer frame for the duration of the visit, Methuselah, I don’t think anybody will notice you’re ninety-six.’

  ‘Cheeky mare!’ The grin, the dazzling golden wonder-grin returned, and with it surged Lizzie’s ever-simmering desire. If only they didn’t have guests. She’d have dragged him up to the master bedroom and begged him to make love to her.

  But just as she was about to lunge forward, and steal a quick, hot kiss, at least, before Shelley and Sholto returned from changing, the sound of voices issued from the interior of the house, rapidly approaching. A second or two later, Thursgood ushered Brent on to the deck, and alongside him strode a man who could only be Tom Wyngarde Smith.

  ‘Goldilocks, you old bugger, how the devil are you?’ demanded the newcomer as John shot to his feet and approached his brother. ‘This is one sweet gaff you’ve got here.’

  The two siblings embraced, as Brent, smiling and looking very dapper in chinos and a white shirt, came over to give Lizzie a hug.

  ‘Looking fab as ever, Mizz Bettie,’ he said, putting his arms tightly around her.

  As they all drew apart, Lizzie had the chance to quickly study John’s younger brother, and was powerfully struck by their family resemblance. The two men were the same height, and roughly the same build, although Tom was a touch on the skinny side. Where John’s hair was golden, Tom’s was light brown, but they both had the same wild curls. Tom’s features were slightly sharper than John’s but they both had the same brilliant blue eyes. And the same killer smile, she discovered, as Tom approached her, beaming.

  No formal handshake for Tom Wyngarde Smith, it seemed. He swept her into a hug almost as enthusiastic as the one he’d shared with John.

  ‘Lizzie! How wonderful to meet you at last!’ He let her go, but ran his hands down her arms to take hold of her hands. ‘You’re even more gorgeous than John and Brent have described to me, and believe you me, they both described you as the very last thing in ultimate female beauty and grace. Bettie Page for the twenty-first century … and they’re exactly right.’

  ‘Yikes,’ was all she could say. Oh, he was lovely. Every bit as drop-dead fabulous as his brother. Lucky Brent!

  She turned to John, grinning. ‘Goldilocks?’

  John rolled his eyes, and Tom reached out and ruffled his hair. ‘Suits him, doesn’t it?’ he said, winking at Lizzie.

  Lizzie grinned back at him. ‘Indeed it does. In fact, his golden locks were what caught my eye in the first place, across a crowded bar. That and the outrageous way he ogled me.’ She gave John’s brother a bold look. Might as well grasp the nettle. ‘I’m guessing that John’s told you pretty much how we met. About our slightly unorthodox first date?’

  ‘He did … and I think the old devil was damned lucky to find such a delicious, clever woman who was prepared to play along and outwit him at his own mad games.’

  John gave his brother a mock-stern look. ‘OK, so we met under rather unconventional circumstances. Can we get past that?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Tom, giving his brother another hug, then reaching out to grip Lizzie’s hand. ‘I can’t imagine an unconventional meeting turning out better.’ He turned from both of them, and smiled at Brent. ‘Except maybe mine with this guy. Now, is there any possibility that a man can a get a beer in this joint? I’m dying of thirst!’

  ‘Well, we’ve got beer, wine, cocktails if you want them, and plenty of soft drinks.’ John gave his brother a wink. ‘And of course there’s that big old trough there, too, if you’re desperate.’ He nodded to the gleaming pool, rendered sky blue by its tiling.


  As Tom made a beeline for the refreshments, John shook Brent by the hand. ‘Good to see you, Brent. Welcome to Dalethwaite.’ He slid an arm about the younger man’s shoulder. ‘Weird how life turns out, isn’t it? But I’m glad about you and my brother … Really … He’s a good man. I’m happy you’re together.’

  Brent looked a bit flummoxed, but his smile was irrepressible. ‘Thanks … He is a good man.’

  As her old friend wandered off to join his lover and get a drink, Lizzie studied John closely. She couldn’t be sure, but she’d always sensed a lingering touch of edge between John and Brent. Understandable, really, as she’d once been Brent’s girlfriend for a while. It must’ve been a bit odd for John, to be around someone else she’d slept with.

  But now that awkward edge was gone. John was relaxed, and his expression, as he watched Brent and Tom rummaging through the drinks cooler, was contented. Openly approving. Thank God for that.

  Shelley and Sholto emerged from the changing cabana and more introductions were made. Lizzie noted that her friend’s colour was a bit hectic, and she smiled to herself. A few naughty shenanigans in the changing room? Why not …? Crikey, if she hadn’t been the hostess with the mostest, she might have dragged John in there next. He looked totally edible in his blue linen suit and with the sunshine making his hair doubly golden.

  As she yearned for him, he turned suddenly and gave her a long, hot look, as if he’d read her thought from afar. The fire in his eyes promised that they’d get their turn, later.

  The afternoon flowed easily. Her qualms had been groundless, and despite their varied backgrounds, the members of the party seemed to gel nicely as a group. The food and drink was perfection, thanks to Mrs T, and nobody seemed to object to John’s 1980s music either.

  After a while, she retired to a lounger with a glass of iced water, John by her side on the next one along. He’d shed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, and he looked chilled out, yet mysterious, wearing his shades. Everyone else was in the pool, and engaged in a noisy and rather peculiar hybrid of tag and water polo. Lizzie had no idea of the scoring system, but judging by the shouting, Sholto appeared to have amassed ten thousand points already and they’d only been playing around fifteen minutes. Tom, who’d been the one to devise the game, was doing atrociously and apparently already in negative figures.