Читать книгу Weddings Collection - Кэрол Мортимер, Кэрол Мортимер - Страница 16

‘WHAT are you going to wear?’

Crysse, having talked non-stop for about an hour, bubbling over with excitement and happiness, full of plans for her wedding, finally drew breath and paused expectantly. She was waiting for Willow’s version of what had happened on Saturday. All the details. Including how they’d got back together. And if they were together, why they had separate rooms.

Her cousin would have to ask Mike about that. He’d made the booking. She suspected he was saying, Marry me or sleep alone. Maybe he hoped the hot tropical nights would bring her to her knees.

She was already there. She’d pulled her world down around her ears and was having to live with the consequences. No wedding. No big job. And Mike turning her own argument back on her.

But there was no way she was raining on Crysse’s parade. Or risking her telling Mike. Hence the swift interjection.

‘Have you bought a dress?’ she asked when Crysse didn’t immediately answer.

‘Not yet. I decided to wait until you arrived. I thought we’d take a trip into town first thing tomorrow.’ The ecstatic bride-to-be allowed herself to be distracted, but her look suggested that it was a temporary reprieve.

‘Great.’ Then, because the conversation seemed to have stalled, Willow asked, ‘Where did Sean say he was taking Mike?’ The pair of them had taken off the minute Mike had dumped his bag in the room next door.

‘They’ve probably gone to book a boat or something. Sean’s been dying to try his hand at big-game fishing but there was no way I was getting involved…’ Crysse checked her watch. ‘I expect they’re down in the bar right now, waiting for us to join them.’

‘Sounds good to me. And you can tell me exactly what’s happening. When are Aunt Grace and Uncle Jack arriving?’

‘On Friday… Look, there’s the wedding gazebo… Isn’t it romantic… Everything fixed?’ she broke off to ask Sean as they joined the two men beneath the thatched canopy of the poolside bar.

He grinned, kissed her cheek, whispered something so that Crysse giggled.

Willow exchanged a glance with Mike, then walked away to lean over the balustrade, looking out to sea. ‘Tired?’ Mike asked, joining her.

‘A bit.’ A lot. She’d attempted to sleep on the plane, more to avoid conversation, avoid Mike’s questions about the new job, avoid thinking, than because she was tired. But now it was all catching up with her.

‘Try and keep going, have a little something to eat. It’ll help you with the time difference.’

‘I know that,’ she snapped.

‘On the other hand,’ he said slowly, ‘maybe you’d be happier on your own.’

‘No…yes… Maybe. I’m sorry, Mike. It’s been a long day.’

He reached up, pushed his fingers through her hair, held it back and kissed her forehead. ‘Don’t apologise. I’ll come and get you at dawn for a swim.’

‘That sounds good.’ She stood there with him for a moment, not wanting to leave him, wanting him to come with her. She didn’t suggest it—a girl could only take so much rejection. He’d picked a fine moment to be high-minded about living together. She needed him so much, but how could she possibly say she’d marry him now? ‘It’s probably the only chance I’ll get,’ she said with a rueful smile. ‘Crysse wants me to help her choose her dress tomorrow.’

‘That’ll be fun.’

‘Of course it will.’ She’d make sure nothing spoiled Crysse’s big day. ‘And you can enjoy your men’s day out fishing.’

‘Fishing?’

‘Isn’t that what you and Sean have planned for tomorrow? Just make sure he doesn’t fall overboard, hmm?’

‘I think I can manage that.’ He kissed her again and then let her go. ‘Goodnight, sweetheart.’ Then, as she turned to go, he asked, ‘Have you called your mother, let her know you’ve arrived safely? I’ve still got your phone.’ Their cellphones had had to go through the X-ray equipment at the airport security check and he’d picked them both up, stowed them in his hand luggage. ‘I’ll come and get it for you if you like.’

And leave her at the bedroom door? ‘No need. I called her on the room phone when I arrived.’

Maybe it was the fact that it was days since she’d slept in a bed, maybe her mind just took pity on her and shut down, but she was gone the instant her head hit the pillow.

She woke to a knock, the suffused light of pre-dawn turning the ceiling gold, and for a moment she was happy. Then the knock came again. And memory disillusioned her.

‘Willow? Are you awake?’ She lay there for a moment, thinking about swimming with Mike, their bodies close, touching, wondering if she could bear it.

If she didn’t answer, he’d go away. Maybe that would be best.

Mike waited for a moment, his fist laid against the locked door. If Willow was asleep he didn’t want to disturb her. But something told him that she was lying there, wide awake and miserable; that he’d messed up again.

Until now, he’d never doubted that she loved him. Even though she hadn’t made it to the church, it had never been about that. He’d thought keeping his distance was the answer, that once she’d seen Crysse, her enthusiasm for marriage would be rekindled.

Maybe he was kidding himself. Yesterday, on the plane, it had been obvious that she didn’t want to talk about her job. He’d thought she was just trying to sort it all out in her mind. Maybe she was. Perhaps the realisation of just how big it was going to be, how her career was going to take off, had given her pause for thought.

Was she just waiting until Crysse and Sean were safely married to tell him that they had no future?

He lifted his hand from the door and left her to sleep. Maybe it was time he did some thinking of his own, stopped playing games and told her that she was more important to him than anything else in the entire world. That whatever she wanted was okay by him. Just as long as she wanted him.

‘She really doesn’t know?’

They’d spent the entire morning sorting out paperwork with local officials. Sean had already done it once so he knew exactly where to go. Now they were ready for a drink. Mike ordered, then answered the question.

‘No. And don’t tell Crysse for heaven’s sake. I’m beginning to think this was a serious mistake. If it all goes pear-shaped, I’d rather Willow never knew.’

‘Don’t you think she might put two and two together when her parents arrive, when your parents arrive?’

‘They’re staying at a different hotel.’

‘I’ve been to a surprise party before, but a surprise wedding sounds very risky. When exactly are you planning on telling the bride that this is going to be a double wedding?’

He’d thought it would be easy once they were in paradise. He was beginning to realise that it might take more than sunshine and a few palm trees to work the magic. ‘I thought I’d wait until the jet lag wore off before I broached the subject,’ he said.

‘In other words, mind my own business.’

Mike shook his head. ‘You’re giving up a chunk of your holiday to help me sort out the paperwork—that makes it your business. And right now I’d welcome any suggestions from a man who seems to have got it right.’

‘I had a moonlit beach and the sure and certain knowledge that Crysse was going to say yes.’

‘Lucky man.’

‘Yes, I am. And so will you be. Go for it. Everything is done.’ He paused. ‘Except the trip to the fish market. We need some large and fiercesome specimen with which to convince the ladies that we fished until we dropped.’

‘Do we? Couldn’t we just say we threw them back?’

Sean grinned. ‘I know fishermen are supposed to tell tall tales, Mike, but whoever’d believe a story like that?’

‘Maybe you’ve got a point—’ His phone began to ring. ‘That’ll be Willow’s father with details of their flight,’ he said, taking out the phone, flipping it open.

He’d pressed receive before he realised that it wasn’t his phone. That he’d picked up Willow’s phone by mistake. A man’s voice was saying, ‘Hullo? Willow?’ A voice he recognised.

‘No, Jake,’ he said grimly, ‘this is Mike Armstrong. Would you mind telling me—?’

‘Mike! Great. Look, will you tell Willow that everything is sorted? I’ve taken Aunt Lucy to stay with a friend for a couple of weeks. Panic over.’

Panic? What panic? ‘What panic, Jake?’

‘She didn’t tell you?’

‘We’ve been busy. Why don’t you tell me exactly what panic is over?’ he invited. ‘And just why you’re phoning Willow in the Caribbean to reassure her?’

‘Are you going to tell me what happened?’

Crysse had been easy to distract during their shopping trip, but now the dress was hanging in Willow’s wardrobe out of the sight of the groom-to-be and they were drinking iced tea in the shade of the poolside bar.

But it was fine.

She’d had plenty of time to work out what she was going to say. The hilariously weird tale of them meeting up at the motorway services took ages. Then the extraordinary notion of them both—independently—having the same idea of a place to hide out.

Her cousin obligingly laughed, exclaimed in all the right places, but was clearly less than convinced. ‘Okay, that’s the version for public consumption. When you feel like telling me what really happened, I’ll be here with the shoulder to cry on.’ Then, before Willow could deny there was another version, Crysse shrieked. ‘What on earth is that?’

Stepping out from behind Willow, Sean grinned. ‘A fish.’ She pulled a face. ‘I thought we might have it grilled for dinner.’

‘Think again.’

‘Where’s Mike?’ Willow asked.

‘He’s just taking a shower, he’ll be down in a minute. And now I’ve given my beloved proof of my abilities as a hunter, I’m going to deliver this to the hotel kitchen and follow his example.’

‘You do that. But next time check out the frozen-food department in the supermarket,’ Crysse called after him. ‘The fish there don’t have whiskers.’

‘Actually,’ Willow said quickly, ‘I think maybe I’ll take a shower, too. And maybe take a nap before dinner. My body clock is totally out of sync.’

Crysse still looked unimpressed. ‘I’ll tell Mike shall I? Or will he know you’re avoiding him?’

‘I’m not—’

‘Puh-lease, darling. Treat me like an idiot if you must, but don’t expect me to play along.’ She peered over the top of her dark glasses. ‘You messed up your own wedding, sweetie, but I’m warning you, do anything to spoil mine and you’re cats’ meat.’

Willow unlocked her door and let herself in, leaning back against it, breathless from her haste to avoid seeing Mike. Facing the questions he wasn’t asking. Yet.

The room was cool, the curtains billowing in the breeze off the ocean. She frowned. She hadn’t left the French doors open. Anyone could walk in.

Anyone had.

‘Mike.’

‘Willow,’ he responded from the bed, where he was stretched out, hands behind his head, ankles crossed.

‘How did you get in?’

‘Does it matter?’

‘No, I suppose not. I thought you were taking a shower. Going down for a drink—’

‘That’s what I told Sean. I wanted to check whether I was being paranoid, or whether you really were avoiding me. Now I know. Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘Tell you?’

‘This could be a very long conversation. Or it could be a short one. Shall we try for brevity, since there’s rather a lot to get through?’

‘Mike—’

‘I’ll make it easy for you, shall I? I’ll ask the questions, you can give me the answers. Tell me about your job.’

‘You know—’

‘Or maybe I should say about your not having a job. About the fact that you told Toby Townsend what he could do with his precious job when you understood what it entailed.’

She felt the blood drain from her face. Felt faint, dizzy. ‘Who’ve you been talking to?’

‘Jake. I picked up your phone by mistake this morning…’ He’d been going to say, unfortunately, but couldn’t quite bring himself to do that. From his point of view it had been a very fortunate mistake ‘…which is why he got me instead of you. He wanted you to know that Aunt Lucy is out of harm’s way.’

‘Thank goodness for that.’

‘So we come to question number two.’ He swung his feet off the bed. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ he asked, advancing on her. She took a step back. ‘About the Globe…’ She took another. ‘About Aunt Lucy…’ She was running out of room to retreat. ‘About Toby Townsend…’ Her back was against the wall and his fingers caught at a stray curl, tucked it away behind her ear. Leaving her face exposed. Vulnerable. Her skin burning where he’d touched her. There was nowhere left to hide.

She shook her head. ‘I c-couldn’t.’

‘Haven’t you learned a thing, Willow? That secrets are corrosive. They eat away at a relationship until the foundations give way and suddenly there’s nothing left.’ She murmured something that he didn’t quite catch. ‘What?’ Hoped he’d misheard. ‘What did you say?’

‘I was ashamed,’ she whispered.

‘Ashamed?’ The sureness, the certainty of rightness in his voice wavered. ‘What on earth have you got to be ashamed about?’

‘I was prepared to throw it all away…’ The sun had blushed her cheeks a brighter pink, but beneath the colour, she was chalk-white. ‘The man I loved, my job on a terrific newspaper, a paper with heart and soul, and all for the cheap gratification of a step up the career ladder on a sleaze sheet that isn’t fit to wrap potato peelings in—’

‘Willow, please—’

‘You warned me—no heart, you said—but I thought I knew better. Well, I know now. I know nothing.’ She dashed away a half-formed tear, refusing to let it slide down her cheek. Self-pity would be the final humiliation. ‘Talk about pride going before a fall…’

‘Not a fall. Anything but a fall. Walking away was the big thing to do, Willow. And I wouldn’t have expected anything less from you.’

‘Really?’ She sniffed, tried on a smile for size and decided it fitted. ‘Do you think the Maybridge Weekly Gazette would take me on as a junior? If I promised to make the tea? I could work my way back up and by the time I’m forty they might take me seriously enough to let me loose on the local village news round-up—’

His hand covered her mouth. ‘I take you seriously. I take you very seriously indeed. And I think you could look a lot higher than the Maybridge Weekly Gazette.’

‘Been there, done that. I’m happier down in the foothills—’

‘There’s going to be a vacancy at the Chronicle. Maybe you should go for that.’

‘Apply for my old job?’ She shook her head. ‘You can’t go back. Never go back. Besides, Julie’s been waiting to step into my shoes ever since we announced our engagement.’

‘Has she? What made her think there’d be a vacancy? You had no plans to leave. Not until—’

‘She assumed that marriage would be swiftly followed by maternity.’

‘Oh, right. Well, it would be really unkind to disappoint her.’ She looked up, her eyes for moment alight with hope. Did he mean what she thought he meant? ‘It’ll have to be another job, then.’ Idiot! Why would he think anything of the sort?

It was cruel to tease her, Mike knew. Especially when he’d seen everything he needed to know in that look. The way her face had crumpled when he hadn’t leapt in to fulfil the hope that had lit up her eyes like neon.

‘Of course there is another post vacant at the Chronicle.’ He stroked her heated cheeks with the tips of his fingers. ‘And one of us should have a proper job, don’t you think?’

She ignored that. She wasn’t being drawn into that trap twice. ‘What vacancy?’

‘Dad is still looking for someone to take over from him.’

She stiffened, finally moved from the protection of the wall. ‘Not you!’ she said urgently. ‘You mustn’t do it. Please, promise me, Mike!’

He drew a cross over his heart with the tip of his finger. ‘You have my word. But you see there’s only one other person who’ll fit the bill.’

‘Who?’ She tried to think. ‘Cal? Would he be interested?’

‘Not Cal, sweetheart. You.’ For a moment she stared at him, uncomprehending.

‘But—but I don’t know the first thing about running a newspaper.’

‘Yes, you do. You proved it yesterday. The first thing is heart. Anyone can add up the figures. The rest is details. And Dad’s quite happy to stick around until you’ve got those licked.’

‘You’ve spoken to him?’ She couldn’t believe it.

‘An hour ago.’

‘And he really thinks… But, Mike, what about his determination that it’ll be a family business…?’ She shook her head. ‘No, no. He just thinks this is the another way of getting you back—’

‘Maybe he does.’ His father, after all, was an incurable optimist. ‘We know differently. But I should have known you’d spot the one snag in the whole arrangement.’ He reached out, cradled her face in his hands, thumbed away the tears. ‘He’s got his heart set on an Armstrong at the helm, someone to carry the company on and pass it down to the next generation. If you want the job, love, I’m afraid you’re going to have to marry me first.’

She looked up into his dear face. Saw the crinkle of laughter lines forming around his eyes, the fleeting appearance of a cleft in his cheek that on childhood photographs had been a dimple.

‘Michael Armstrong, is that the most convoluted example of a marriage proposal ever promulgated?’

‘Undoubtedly.’ He grinned. ‘So? Was that the most excruciating acceptance in the annals of romance?’

‘It could certainly do with some editing. Shall we try again?’

‘Will you marry me?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Please.’

He grinned. ‘Such lovely manners. Your mother would be proud of you.’ She responded with a word calculated to raise her mother’s eyebrows and blood pressure. ‘Mmm. Well, now that’s settled you’d better have this back.’ He produced her ring from his shirt pocket, the diamond flashing in the sunlight as he slipped it on her finger.

‘I think you should kiss me before I cry.’

‘I intend to do a lot more than that, my love. But there’s just one more thing we have to settle. About the wedding.’

‘Oh, lord,’ she wailed. ‘Couldn’t we just run away somewhere?’

‘I thought we already had. I thought perhaps we could make it a double celebration on Saturday.’

‘Saturday? With Crysse? Oh, my… But what about—’

‘Your parents and mine will be arriving tomorrow morning. Your mother is bringing your dress. Sean and I have spent all day fixing up the paperwork.’

Willow opened her mouth on a silent, ‘oh’. Then she said, ‘You…’ He waited. ‘You did that before you knew about the job, didn’t you?’

‘Optimism must run in the family.’

‘I love optimism. And I love you, Michael. I’d live with you in a hut and eat seaweed, do you know that?’

‘The way you cook? I don’t think so. Let’s try the hayloft for a while,’ he said, kissing her lightly on the mouth. ‘Until maternity sends us looking for somewhere larger—’

‘Maternity?’

‘Didn’t I mention that bit? You not only have to run the newspaper, you’ll also have to provide the next generation.’

‘It looks as if I’m going to be busy.’

‘Count on it. But don’t worry, I’m more than happy to help out with that part of the plan.’

‘That sounds promising. But when you said looking for somewhere larger—’

‘When I said larger, I meant, just large enough,’ he promised. ‘For us, and the next generation, and the goldfish and the cuddly toys…’ And this time, when he kissed her, he made it very clear that the time for talking was over.

Willow and Mike and Crysse and Sean lined up in a white gazebo decked with tropical flowers, beneath the setting sun. No bridesmaids, the minimum of ribbons, the only guests their immediate families and passing holiday-makers who paused to enjoy the special occasion.

There was a toast, but no speeches by request and, as soon as they could escape, Mike took Willow for a barefoot walk along the beach in the moonlight, his cream linen trousers rolled up over his ankles, her lovely gown brushing the sand behind her.

When they reached a small jetty, he led her along it to a boat, tied up alongside. The owner looked up and grinned out of his ebony face, before starting the engine.

‘Shall we go?’ Mike said.

‘Go?’ Willow asked, startled. ‘Go where?’

He grinned, bent to kiss the smooth skin behind her ear, and then swept her up into his arms. ‘A double wedding is one thing, my darling, but I have no intention of sticking around to share my honeymoon with the in-laws. I’ve rented us a cottage along the coast for the next couple of weeks.’

‘But—’ She glanced back along the beach.

‘Any objections?’

‘No, it’s just…well, I’ll need more than a wedding dress for the next week.’

‘Will you?’ Mike grinned as he set her down on the deck. ‘Whatever gave you that idea?’

Willow shook her head, laughed as she spotted their suitcases standing in the cabin. ‘You’re getting good at this running away thing.’

‘Improving,’ he agreed. ‘This time the groom and the bride are running away together.’ Mike’s eyes were level with hers and her breath caught in her throat.

Willow reached up, touched his face with her fingertips. ‘Together is the best word I know,’ she murmured as she followed them with her lips. ‘It doesn’t get any better than that.’