Last-Minute Bridesmaid (10 page)

Tools were neatly laid out next to a modern sewing machine and glove templates hung from a teacup hook screwed into the shelf. Wooden hands stood upright on top of a cabinet with gloves on them. All different. All special. All...sad.

He felt Kate’s fingers take a tighter grip around his, as though she had to hold on to something solid and real.

They stood in silence for a second and he inhaled the dust and heady atmosphere of a confined space, which seemed totally wrong somehow for this girl with so much verve and life and positive energy.

Why did she keep the door locked when all there was inside was a dark, lonely place?

‘Do you live here alone?’ Heath finally asked, desperate to break the gloomy silence of the space.

‘Oh, no—I have the ghosts and memories of my grandparents to keep me company.’

He couldn’t resist it. He had to chuckle out loud. ‘Not so useful when you need someone to talk to—or do you talk to them anyway?’

‘Wonderful inventions, telephones,’ she said, smiling. ‘I call upon my friends and amuse them with idle chatter about the silly things that have been happening in the world of tailoring or I go around to Saskia’s place and help her with the house.’

‘But they don’t come here, do they?’

She half turned to face him in the tight, closed-in space and in the harsh light from the lamp he could see the dark shadows of her cheekbones.

‘No, Heath. I rarely invite anyone into my parlour,’ she said in a sad, low voice, which had the power to reach out and draw him in.

‘Because of the ghosts?’

A faint smile flashed across her lips and she winked. ‘Absolutely—they hate strangers barging into their home. And they refuse to talk to anyone except me so it would be terribly rude for guests.’

He glanced around before coming back to gaze into her sweet, lovely face. He was missing her smile suddenly and that flash of her green eyes when she irked him.

‘You’re quite right. I can’t hear a thing. But what do they say to you?’

He could see a shiver run across her shoulders, and instinctively moved closer to give her some of his warmth. It might be a hot July afternoon outside, but the ghosts of Kate’s past walked in this room and called her name.

‘What do they say?
Katherine, Katherine, why haven’t you cleaned me? Why do you keep the door locked? You cannot seriously be still waiting for your parents to give up their scientific careers and make this a happy place like it used to be? That is not going to happen. That ship has sailed, sweet girl. They aren’t coming back. They are not. Coming back.
’

The tears were running down her cheeks now and he reached up with his free hand and wiped them away.

Her eyes closed the second his fingertip touched her skin and he felt her gentle shudder ripple through her body and through her clasped hand into his own.

‘Are they right?’ he whispered, hardly daring to break their connection. ‘These ghostly ancestors of yours?’

She nodded, her lips pressed firmly together, and it took a second before she blew out hard and answered in a shaky voice. ‘My parents met when they were studying chemistry at university. Yes, I know.
Chemistry.
Apparently my grandmother came from a family of electrical engineers and scientists but the lure of the science lab skipped a generation because she couldn’t change a light bulb without blowing power to the entire street.’

She choked on a deep sob which came from deep inside her body and shook her whole frame. ‘But I’m a fool. I still cling onto the crazy notion that my parents will wake up one morning and realise that their work in the petrochemical industry is all a horrible mistake and I will fling open the door and they will be standing there on the doorstep with their suitcases.’

Then her eyes squeezed tight shut but Heath dared not speak. She had to tell him now or never say it at all. ‘When my grandfather left this business to me, instead of his only son—’ she paused and sucked in a breath ‘—they tried everything to make me sell the shop and move away and retrain in a proper career where I wouldn’t be wasting my life on foolish dreams of being a fashion designer. They are ashamed of me, Heath. Ashamed that their child wants to spend her life refusing to conform to their ideas. Which is more than just sad. It breaks my heart.’

Her fingertips moved of their own volition over a cut-off scrap of pale grey suede which was still peach-soft. ‘Leather was my grandfather’s passion. Look at this piece of suede. Isn’t it lovely? Here it is, just waiting for the new owner of Lovat Gloves to turn it into something beautiful. Something to be treasured and kept in a special place by a customer who appreciates fine things. He loved me for who I am and believed in me. Only the new owner doesn’t know which way to turn.’

She collapsed on to the stool and Heath stepped forward, their hands still locked together.

‘I cannot stand the idea that I would let my grandparents down. It would kill me.’

Heath hunkered down so that his head was at the same level as hers and, before he could rethink or stop himself, he reached up and brushed a lock of Kate’s hair back over her ear and lifted up her chin.

‘What do
you
want to do, clever, talented lady?’

His reward was a faint smile and the smallest of twinkles in her eyes. ‘When I was studying art and fashion at university I told everyone that one day this would be my studio and I would find some way of combining fashion design with the glove-making business that Isabelle and George Lovat created from their passion for the work and one another.’

‘Fashion and gloves. In the same shop.’ She sniffed and jiggled her shoulders. ‘Just thinking about it still makes my toes curl inside my shoes.’

‘Then what’s holding you back, Kate? What’s stopping you from making that dream come true?’

Kate lifted her head and stared into his eyes, her green eyes brimming with tears. ‘Life. Reality. I’m scared, Heath. I’m so scared that I’m going to lose all of this that it freezes me. That’s why I agreed to come to the wedding this weekend, Heath. I need your help before I lose everything. Can you understand that? Can you?’

And before he could do anything to stop her, even if he wanted to, she slipped off her chair and fell into his wide-open arms so that he could enfold them around her tiny, slim, fragile body, crushing her to him and protecting her from harm with all of the strength that he had.

It had been such a long time since he had held a warm, beautiful girl in his arms, but the instant he felt Kate wrap her arms around his waist, he knew that this was different. Special.

He
wanted
to protect her and keep her safe.

Her hair tickled his chin and he breathed in the fragrance of the woman and the place and the moment, and was instantly drunk on it.

He could sense the pulse of her heartbeat against his chest and the heat of her breath on his shirt and he could have stayed there for ever. Words were not needed. This was the best and only form of communication he needed.

But, just as his treacherous hands moved higher up her back, drawing her closer to him, their silence was broken by a cellphone with a pop song ringtone.

Leave it,
he willed.
Let the outside world get on without us for just a few precious minutes. Choose to stay here with me.

Kate laughed into his chest and slid slowly, slowly out of his arms until she was standing on her feet. Still sniffing and wiping her eyes, she flipped open her phone and checked the text message.

She laughed out loud and swallowed before looking sheepishly at Heath. ‘Saskia. Do we want all pink or pink and white balloons? I say pink.’

He nodded, just once, and stood tall as she replied. And, just like that, her body moved out of reach and they were two separate people again.

Except they weren’t.

Not any longer.

And he was going to have to add that to the list of things to deal with.

EIGHT

Kate peered around
the corner of the ornate stone pillar on the bride’s side of the stunning village church. Heath was still standing at the front to one side of the altar, working down his checklist and trying to salvage what was left of his carefully worked out timetable.

The late afternoon sunshine was streaming in through the stained glass round window behind his head, creating a kaleidoscope of pastel colours on the old stone floor around him. The florist had come in with a posy of English sweet peas, roses and lilacs to show Alice, filling the space with stunning fragrance. It was going to be totally magical. For Alice.

Heath must have torn up his plan at least three times that afternoon.

He had been so confident when they’d got back to the Manor that they could grab a late lunch, run through the rehearsal super-quick and still have plenty of time to decorate the dining room before dinner.

Unfortunately those plans did not include herding a long line of very merry and alcohol-fuelled guests away from the dessert buffet and free bar and down the country lane to file into the church. He led the band as they staggered down the lane, with Kate and the other three bridesmaids following at the end.

She had no clue who started the singing but the rugby songs were not entirely appropriate for the occasion and Heath’s dad and Alice’s uncle had to dive in and try to hurry them along, much to the amusement of the friendly young vicar, who was clearly well used to having inebriated wedding parties in his church.

But eventually, with some cajoling from Alice, Charles and most of the ushers, all the guests were seated, Heath was standing next to Charles, Alice and the girls were all gathered at the open door and the organist played the opening few bars of the wedding march.

It was lovely to meet Alice’s friends and they were so enthusiastic about being bridesmaids and wearing Kate’s dresses that it was easy to get caught up in the excitement and put the morning’s trip to London out of her mind.

But that was before she stepped in behind Alice and looked over her shoulder and saw Charles, smiling at Alice as she walked up the aisle towards him, carrying her pretend bunch of flowers at the regulation crotch level. The love and devotion shone out of his eyes like a tsunami which washed over everything else in the room.

This man and this woman. So much in love.

And something inside her had broken.

Was she ever going to have someone look at her with so much love in his eyes?

The closer they came to the altar, the more her heart wept.

Stupid girl!

She always got emotional at weddings, plus she was exhausted and frayed around the edges.

As for Heath? Heath simply rolled his eyes the minute she had sat down on the hard wooden pew with the other bridesmaids and laughed away her tears with some giggling joke about always crying at weddings.

But when the others leapt up and started streaming out and back to the Manor, she needed to sit in the cool church and gather her wits about her and she was still sitting there half an hour later, watching Heath wander down the aisle and collapse on the bench next to her.

‘Well, that was different,’ he said and his shoulders sagged.

‘I told you that it was a mistake having wine and beer at the lunchtime barbecue. But there are lots of good dry cleaners in the area. They
might
be able to get the ketchup and mustard off your dad’s nice jacket.’

‘Hah. I would be pleased if that was the only thing to worry about,’ Heath replied. ‘Did you see the Jardine girls? They spent the whole time talking or texting. I could have been invisible.’

‘Let’s put it down to natural exuberance and being caught up in the emotion.’

Heath snorted and turned to look at her. He smiled and squeezed her hand. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Me? Oh, I always cry at weddings and shall probably disgrace myself completely tomorrow by weeping all over Alice before we even leave the Manor. No, I’m fine. Just catching my breath before we start our next exciting adventure—the decorating!’

He exhaled slowly, but then lifted his head and nodded towards his father, who was gesturing towards them.

‘Ah. Be right there. But first I have to meet and greet the banking wing of the New York clan and try to keep them apart from the Jardine hedge-fund managers. Wish me luck!’

And he was gone, leaving her alone and bereft while he shook hands and chatted with men who made more money in a year than she would in a lifetime. Heath looked so at ease and confident at that moment. And it struck her hard just how very, very different their worlds truly were.

She had never minded working for a living. Far from it. She was doing something she loved every single day, creating marvellous things for other people to wear and enjoy, and that was special.

Not many people got to spend their lives doing what they were truly passionate about. She was a lucky girl.

A lucky girl who knew what it felt like to have Heath Sheridan’s arms around her and to feel the warmth and strength of his embrace melt her resistance like ice in the sun.

The journey back from Saskia’s house had been one of the toughest she had ever suffered. Heath had insisted on driving in the July heat and Kate had pretended to doze off now and again rather than face the difficult silence that always came when two people had cuddled who should not have done.

She was mortified at having revealed so much of her past and exposed the tender underbelly of her life. Heath had not said a word. He was too much of a gentleman to make a fuss of it, but the atmosphere between them was so tense that it was making her nervous.

What had she been thinking? Crying on his shoulder like that? Telling him about the pain of losing her grandparents? Stupid, reckless and totally pathetic. And, unless she stopped having these ridiculous feelings about him, it was all going to end in tears—her tears.

Heath was wealthy and handsome and used to the very best of things in life. Why should he put up with second-best like her?

Why should he want her as his girlfriend? Pretend or otherwise?

She was going to lose him all over again. He had his life to go back to in New York and Boston, a lifestyle of wealth and luxury which was on a different planet from the one she inhabited. He was going to leave in a few days and they would both be back in their separate, lonely worlds.

Everyone she had truly loved had left her, one way or another. And setting herself up for even more loss was not just ridiculous but crushing.

She could do this. She was strong. She was going to get through this wedding with a smile on her face and then she was going to walk away from Heath and start living her life all over again.

Now all she had to do was convince her heart to stop dreaming about the impossible.

* * *

Heath stared into the mirror in his en suite bathroom at the Manor, adjusted the black bow tie below the wing collar on his dress shirt and smothered a yawn.

And he knew precisely who to blame for that!

The girl who had popped notes under the bedroom doors of every guest.

The girl who had cajoled and persuaded even the grumpiest and poshest of stuffy relatives and friends to join in with the decorating operation in the great hall. And not only had they had turned up but they had thoroughly enjoyed every second of it, just as she had predicted. Even the two great-aunts had been singing!

Singing
.
In tune.

And directed and conducted by the one and only Kate Lovat. Organiser. Indefatigable cheer-leader and mind-reader.

And gorgeous. Don’t forget the gorgeous.

As if he could.

Heath wrapped his fingers around the cool ceramic washbasin and inhaled deeply.

He had let his guard down that afternoon and was paying the price.

There were a few rules that governed his life and one of them was written in tablets of stone and engraved on his heart.

He would never, ever allow himself to become emotionally dependent on any woman.

No matter how enchanting and remarkable she was.

No matter how much Kate had touched his heart when they were together in her tiny house. But seeing her tears in the church that afternoon and the gentle way that she had guided Alice into her role—that was something new. That was special.

Kate Lovat was a girl in a million. He could understand now why Amber adored her.

He was going to miss her.

In the car driving back from London that afternoon, Kate had fallen asleep in the passenger seat and he had been alone with his thoughts. Going over what she had told him when they had been alone in that dirty, cramped workshop, it had struck him with a powerful realisation that he had never once had the kind of conversation with his father or Olivia that he had shared with Kate in her tiny house. Not once.

Worse—he had no clue about what dreams and hopes Olivia had in her heart or what kind of life she had led until they’d met at a publishing conference.

Perhaps that was what Olivia had meant when she said that he was cold and guarded. And, if it was, then they were equally to blame for keeping their inner truths hidden.

Not everyone was as open as Kate Lovat.

A strange and tantalising thought whispered through his mind and he snatched at it.

His diary was already packed with meetings in Boston and New York for the next few months so this would probably be the last time he saw Kate before Amber’s wedding.

He looked into the mirror and a chuckle escaped from the back of his throat and made its way to his lips.

She had asked him what he did for fun. Maybe, just for this weekend, he could take that as a challenge and have some fun, and show her that he could enjoy a party just like everyone else.

Heath Sheridan had just changed his mind. He did need a wedding date, and Kate Lovat was the girl.

He crossed the oak-panelled corridor in four strides and knocked twice on Kate’s bedroom door. The latch opened on the other side of the door and Kate peeked out of a narrow gap.

‘I’m not ready yet, you pest. Please go away and come back in ten minutes.’

She tried to close the door on him. But he stuck his foot in and then winced as she pushed harder against it.

‘Kate! Stop that. You look very nice and we need to talk before we meet the family.’

She pulled the door open, planted one hand at each hip, stuck her chin out and glared at him. ‘Are you crazy? How can I look very nice dressed like this?’

Heath took one look at what she was wearing, or rather not wearing, glanced up and down the corridor to check that no one had seen, stepped inside her bedroom and shut the door firmly behind him.

‘Kate! Are you trying to give Uncle Harold a heart attack? Put some clothes on.’

Kate flung up her hands. ‘What do you think I’m trying to do? Sit there and talk if you must while I get ready.’

Thankfully for his blood pressure and heart rate, Kate strode into the bathroom and half closed the door behind her.

She was wearing a very short silk dressing gown which swung open as she walked. The last time he had seen a girl wearing a bra top, black French knickers, suspenders and stockings had been at a catwalk charity fashion show being held by one of Amber’s model friends, who’d found his embarrassment very funny. And he had never, ever been this close to a girl’s underwear up close and personal. Amber’s modelling work and concert performances required beautiful ball gowns and some of them were a little revealing, but nothing compared to Kate Lovat in her underwear.

Even the girls who came to Amber’s sleepover parties used to hide in the bathroom until they were fully clothed.

And Olivia... Well, he had seen a wide variety of designer and supermarket labels, depending on whether she was working on an archaeological dig that week or not.

He glanced around the room and was surprised to find that everything was neat and tidy and meticulously organised. After what he had seen in the workshop, he’d expected that Kate’s room would be a mess of clothes scattered across the bed.

‘Well, talk to me, Sheridan. What is so urgent that you need to talk to me now?’

As he glanced in the direction of her voice, he caught a glimpse of the delicious tight curve of her pantie-covered bottom reflected in the mirror and quickly turned away, palms sweaty. She had a waist so tiny that he could put both hands around and his fingers would touch.

He had felt every one of her ribs under the thin top she had been wearing in the workshop that afternoon and the heat of that sensation hit him hard all over again.

‘We were so busy this afternoon I never had a chance to give you an insight into the family before we go down to dinner,’ he replied after a quick cough, and flopped down on the corner of her bed. ‘You’ve already met Alice’s two great-aunts and the cousins. The New York Sheridans were the noisy ones who spent the time arguing about how to string the banners. They will probably rearrange my seating plan at the first chance they get.’

‘Heath, you can stop now. I get it. You want me to say nice things and be charming and polite. But my world revolves around hemlines and shoes and gloves and hats with feathers in them and if they don’t like it then they can look at my shoes instead.’

Kate stepped out of the bathroom with her hands still tugging on the back zip of her dress. And his heart stopped beating.

Shoes?
He wasn’t looking at her shoes.

His gaze was locked onto the short-sleeved black dress she was wriggling into. The shoulders were made up of two stiff collars of taffeta which showed her creamy neck and collarbone to perfection.

Apart from a slightly sparkly neckline, it was so totally different from anything else that he had seen Kate wear that he simply could not look away.

No flashy splashes of colour. No outrageous cutting-edge slashes held together with gold safety pins. She was elegance personified.

He had heard of the expression
drop dead gorgeous
but he had never experienced it before, not even when Amber had invited some of her model pals to a charity event in Boston.