Читать книгу The Bridesmaid's Baby - Barbara Hannay - Страница 9

LUCY’S eyes were distinctly misty as she watched Mattie and Jake dance the bridal waltz. They looked so happy together and so deeply in love. She was sure everyone watching them felt misty-eyed too.

It had been an utterly perfect wedding.

The beautiful ceremony had been followed by a happy procession across Willowbank’s main street to the marquee where the reception was held. Champagne flowed, a string quartet played glorious music and the guests were served delectable food.

Jake’s speech had been heartfelt and touching and Will’s toast was appropriately witty, although he went embarrassingly over the top with his praise for the bridesmaids. Lucy had felt her face flame when curious eyes had swung in her direction and the cutting of the cake had been a welcome distraction.

Everyone had broken into spontaneous cheering for Mattie and Jake, and Lucy was thrilled. The wedding couldn’t have been happier.

She was relieved that she’d survived without making a fool of herself. Which mostly meant avoiding Will—a tall order given that her eyes had developed a habit of sneaking in his direction whenever she thought he wasn’t looking. She’d tried so hard to ignore him, but she’d always thought he was the best-looking guy ever.

She could still remember the day she’d first met him as a schoolboy down by Willow Creek, crouched at the edge of the water.

Even viewing him from behind, he’d been beautiful.

He’d taken his shirt off and he’d been squatting, reaching down, panning for gold in the water. Sunlight breaking through overhead trees had lent an extra sheen to his dark brown hair and to the smooth golden-brown skin on his back.

Lucy hadn’t been able to help staring. His shoulders were wide, his hips narrow, his limbs long—the build of a swimmer.

Now, so many years later, he was even more irresistible in his dark formal attire. Lucy kept finding things she needed to check out—the manly jut of his jaw above the crisp collar, the neat line of his dark hair across the back of his neck, the stunning breadth of his shoulders in the stylish suit jacket…

Sigh…

Despite the wedding’s perfection, the evening had been a huge strain and she was worn out.

She’d kicked off her high heeled shoes and they were now stowed under the table. She was thinking rather fondly about the end of the night when she could head for home. It would be so nice to greet her dogs, then curl up in bed with a glass of water and a headache tablet.

Tom leaned towards her. ‘Lucy, it’s our turn to dance.’

She winced. ‘Is it really?’

Tom was already on his feet. ‘Come on. Gina and Will are already up. You know the wedding party is expected to take a twirl on the dance floor.’

Bother. She’d forgotten about that. She suppressed a sigh as she fished beneath the table for her shoes. Ouch. They pinched as she squeezed back into them.

She looked over at the dance floor and saw that Tom was right. Gina was already dancing with Will and, for no reason that made sense, her silly heart began to trip and stumble.

‘Lead the way,’ she told Tom resolutely, slipping her arm through his. Thank heavens he was a reliable old friend. At least she could dance with Tom till the cows came home without being attacked by dangerous palpitations.

Unfortunately, Tom didn’t seem to be quite so enamoured with her as his dancing partner. At the end of the bracket, other couples joined them on the dance floor and Tom leaned close to her ear. ‘Would you mind if I asked Gina for a dance?’

‘Of course I don’t mind.’ She took a step back to prove it. ‘Please, go ahead. You must dance with your wife.’

Tom happily tapped Will on the back and Lucy retreated to the edge of the timber dance floor. Over her shoulder, she watched the men’s brief smiling exchange. She saw Will’s nod and her heart began to race as she guessed what might happen next.

It was logical—a common courtesy for Will to ask her to dance—but there were times when logic and courtesy flew out of the window. Times like now, when her out of date, unhelpful feelings for Will made simple things complicated.

On the surface, one quick dance with an old friend should have been a piece of cake. But on a super-romantic night like tonight, Lucy was trembling at the very thought of dancing publicly in Will Carruthers’s arms.

She couldn’t help thinking about that kiss all those years ago, when she’d made a fool of herself at Will’s farewell party. She turned, planning to hurry back to her place at the table.

‘Lucy!’

Will’s voice sounded close behind her and she froze.

‘I won’t let you escape that easily.’ His tone held a thread of humour, but there was also a note of command that was hard to ignore.

His hand brushed her wrist and the touch was like a firebrand. Lucy was helpless as his fingers enclosed around her, as he pulled her gently but decisively towards him. ‘Come on,’ he urged. ‘We’ve got to have one dance.’

He made it sound easy, but when she looked into his cool grey eyes she was surprised to see a cautious edge to his smile, as if he wasn’t quite as confident as he sounded. Which didn’t help her to relax.

A number of wedding guests were watching them, however, and the last thing she wanted was a scene.

‘One dance?’ Lucy forced lightness into her voice. ‘Why not?’ She managed a smile. No way did she want to give the impression she was trying to dodge Will. One dance was no problem at all. She would dance with him till her feet fell off.

Will led her back onto the dance floor.

Gulp.

As soon as he placed one hand at her back and took her other hand in his, she knew this wasn’t going to be any version of easy. She drew a jagged breath.

‘Smile,’ Will murmured as he pulled her closer. ‘This is a wedding, not a funeral.’

He took the lead and Lucy obediently pinned on a smile.

She’d only danced with Will a handful of times, long ago. Even so, she could remember every single detail—his habit of enfolding her fingers inside his, the way he smelled of midnight, and the way her head was exactly level with his jaw.

Tonight, every familiar memory felt like a pulled thread, unravelling her poorly stitched self control. Being this close to Will played havoc with her heartbeats, with her sense of rhythm. She kept stumbling and bumping into him and then apologising profusely.

After the third apology, he steered her to the edge of the floor and he leaned back a little, and he smiled as he looked into her face.

Will said something, but Lucy couldn’t hear him above the music and she shook her head, lifted her shoulders to show she had no idea.

Leaning closer, she felt her skin vibrate as he spoke into her ear. ‘Are you OK? Would you like a break?’

That would be sensible, wouldn’t it?

She nodded. ‘Yes, please.’

A reprieve.

Maybe not. Will stayed close beside her as she returned to the table and, before she could resume her seat, he said, ‘There are chairs outside. Why don’t we go out there where it’s cooler and quieter, away from the music?’

Lucy’s heart stumbled again. Going outside where it was quieter suggested that Will wanted to talk.

Part of her yearned to talk with him, but she wasn’t sure it was wise. What could they talk about now? They’d covered the basics last night after the rehearsal, and Will had been away for so long that they’d lost their old sense of camaraderie.

Besides, further conversation would surely lead to uncomfortable topics like her relationship with Josh. Wouldn’t it be wiser to simply keep their distance now?

But the look in Will’s eyes as he watched her sent a fine shiver rushing over her skin and she knew that wisdom would lose this particular battle and curiosity would win. She secretly longed to hear what Will wanted to talk about.

‘I’m sure a little fresh air is a good idea,’ she said and she went with him through a doorway in the side of the marquee into the moon silvered night.

They found two chairs abandoned by smokers and, as soon as Lucy sat down, she slipped off her shoes and rubbed at her aching feet.

Will chuckled softly.

‘I’m not used to wearing such high heels,’ she said defensively. ‘You should try them. They’re sheer torture.’

‘I don’t doubt that for a moment, but they look sensational.’ He released a button on his jacket, letting it fall open. His shirt gleamed whitely in the moonlight and he stretched his long legs in front of him.

After a small pause, he said, ‘I meant what I said in my speech. You look lovely tonight, Lucy.’

Her cheeks grew warm again. ‘Thanks. Mattie chose our dresses. She has very feminine tastes.’

He let her self-effacing comment pass.

‘It’s been a perfect wedding,’ she said to make amends, but then she was ambushed by an involuntary yawn. ‘But it seems to have worn me out.’

‘You’ve probably been working too hard.’

She shook her head. ‘My work doesn’t very often make me tired. Weddings, on the other hand…’

‘Can be very draining.’

‘Yes.’

He was watching her with a lopsided smile. ‘It’s not always easy to watch your friends tie the knot.’

‘I…’ Her mouth was suddenly dry and her tongue stuck to its roof. She shot Will a sharp glance, uncertain where this conversation was heading. She tried again. ‘I’m really happy for Mattie, aren’t you?’

‘Absolutely,’ he said. ‘Marriage couldn’t have happened to a nicer girl.’

Lucy nodded. A small silence limped by. ‘I suppose weddings are tiring because they involve lots of people.’ Hunting for a way to disguise the fact that Will’s presence at this wedding was her major problem, she made a sweeping gesture towards the crowded marquee. ‘I’m more used to animals these days. They’re so much quieter than humans.’

‘And I’m used to rocks.’

Lucy laughed. ‘I dare say they’re quieter too.’

‘Silence is one of their better attributes.’ Will chuckled again. ‘Sounds like we’ve turned into a pair of old loners.’

‘Maybe,’ she said softly, but she knew it was hazardous for her to talk of such things with this man.

Quietly, he said, ‘It’s happening all around us, Goose.’

Goose…her old nickname.

Only her father and Will had ever called her Goose, or Lucy Goose…and hearing the name now made her dangerously nostalgic.