Romancing Robin Hood (37 page)

Deciding to keep the shocking news that she
had
accidently written a romance, even if someone had died in the process, to herself, Grace hugged Daisy to her side, ‘You aren't panicking though, are you?'

‘Not even a little bit. But I'd hate to disappoint Mum. She is convinced that having decided to get married “so late in the day”, I'll be a bundle of nerves, and who am I to disappoint her? What shall I pretend to be worried about?'

As they entered the restaurant, there was no mistaking their table. Someone, presumably Wendy the wedding planner, had decorated the middle of it with two surprisingly tasteful
It's Your Wedding Day
balloons.

Grace whispered to Daisy as they were ushered to the table, ‘you could make out you're worried about the flowers drooping?'

‘Why the flowers?'

‘Because it'll give your Mum something to go and fuss over with Wendy, leaving you and me to get ready in peace.'

‘Grace, you're a star! Perfect!' With a quick wink that only Grace saw, Daisy said in a louder voice, ‘Are you
sure
the flowers will be OK, Grace?'

‘I'm sure, but if it worries you that much, perhaps one of us had better go and check them after breakfast …'

Once their delicious breakfast was consumed, they left Daisy's mum to head off to Hardwick Hall to fiddle with the flowers at the end of each row of chairs.

With her dad promising to keep his kind but worrisome wife out of the way for as long as possible, Daisy and Grace headed to their rooms to get ready for the ceremony at twelve noon.

Grace circled her friend in admiration, ‘It is such a gorgeous dress, Daze. Ashley did you proud.' She carefully smoothed out the back of the skirt.

Looking both voluptuous and feminine, Daisy's chest was flatteringly hinted at without giving anyone an unsubtle eyeful, while her curvy hips were smoothed into the perfect shape by the cut of the skirt, its ivory shade complementing the happy glow of Daisy's face.

Having declared a professional hairdresser a total waste of time, as Daisy's short curly hair had proved a law unto itself ever since it had first grown through, Grace was tasked with making the ginger locks as presentable as she could.

Standing behind Daisy, reminding her friend for the umpteenth time that she was the worst choice for this job as she barely even brushed her own hair, Grace tousled it into place beneath a shoulder-length cream veil. Plain, all but for a tiny row of exquisite butterflies around the edge, a pattern which instantly reminded Grace of Mathilda's girdle.

Hiding the lump that had formed in her throat as the thought of Mathilda led predictably onto one of Robert, and then onto Rob, Grace jabbed one final pin into Daisy's hair.

‘Right, Daze, I have no idea if you'll ever find them again in that mop of yours, but there are six pins to retrieve when it's time to take the veil off.'

Laughing, Daisy said, ‘Check that! Six pins.' She turned to face her friend. ‘Is it time for me to brave a peep in the mirror?'

‘It is!' Pulling the desk chair out of the way, Grace wheeled forward the full-length mirror the hotel staff had put into Daisy's room especially for the day.

‘Here we go then!' For the first time since they'd arrived at the hotel, Daisy was uncertain. Rather than step eagerly towards the mirror, she hesitated. ‘Are you sure I don't look like one of those corny little brides they sometimes put on the top of a wedding cake?'

‘You look amazing, I promise. Marcus is going to have one hell of a time keeping his hands off you until after the reception.'

Daisy blushed becomingly. ‘Good!' Then with a slow exhalation of her lungs she moved forward to critically examine her reflection.

With only a touch of makeup to bring out the colour of her eyes, and a discreet matte layer of foundation so her skin didn't go shiny under the flash of the photographer's camera, Daisy couldn't wipe the grin off her face. ‘This really is it, isn't it? I'm actually getting married today! Me!'

Daisy's happiness, now her moment's unease about seeing herself in an outfit so foreign to her usual dungarees and jumpers had passed, was contagious. Grace beamed back at her. ‘You are! Marcus is a lucky man.'

‘And I am a lucky girl.' A couple of tears unexpectedly formed at the corners of Daisy's eyes. ‘Oh God!' She went to wipe them away, but Grace stopped her, dabbing them away with a tissue instead so she didn't smudge her scraping of makeup. ‘I'm a hormonal mess today! I'm so happy, and I so wish that you …'

Grace raised a hand to stop the words her friend was about to say. ‘I'm fine as I am, thanks Daze. Now the novel is mocked up I can finally get on with the textbook. It seems less daunting and pointless than it did. If I don't want Professor Davis to sack me, I really have to get on with it, and believe me, it isn't going to leave me time for anything other than my job.'

Not giving Daisy the chance to argue with her, Grace moved to the wardrobe, where her own dress was patiently hanging on the door in its plastic cover. ‘Time for me to go all Maid Marian then!'

From the moment Daisy had yanked together the lace-up back of Grace's dress, to the time until the wedding cars would arrive to take her and Daisy's mum, and Daisy with her father, the two miles to Hardwick Hall, ticked by with frightening speed. Soon they were all standing outside the hall being greeted by a clipboard-wielding Wendy. As they waited for the signal to go inside, Mrs Marks fussed over Grace; such was her fear that the bridesmaid's breasts would make an escape bid of their own volition that she pulled her corset laces so tight that Grace feared she might pass out.

‘There, you go, my dear..'

‘Umm, thanks.' Grace knew her dress made the most of her boobs, and found herself having to bite her lips so she didn't apologise for them to Daisy's mum. She fished around in her mind for small talk, but her mouth dried as nerves assailed her. Grace desperately didn't want to let Daisy down, but had been so busy concentrating on not embarrassing herself by falling off her heeled shoes, she hadn't stopped to consider the possibility that she might escape from her bodice!

All the wedding guests were in position within the hall. Marcus and his best man were waiting at the front for Daisy to arrive, and Daisy's father was hugging his daughter proudly as they prepared for her big moment.

Staring down at the Lincoln Green she wore, Grace admired the flared skirt as it tucked her in at the waist, slimmed down her stomach, and caressed her hips. Would Mathilda's wedding dress have looked like this?
Of course not! Don't be so darn ridiculous, woman!
Now that Grace had allowed her romantic side a little freedom, it appeared there was no way she could switch it back off.

Grace was convinced she was right to have ended Mathilda's tale before the relationship between her and Robert developed towards a wedding, so that any readers she might one day have was free to imagine it for themselves, as the implication that there would be a wedding very was clear. Yet, as she stood there, staring out across the unspoilt landscape, Grace found herself picturing Mathilda and Robert de Folville walking together, hand in hand.

‘Grace, are you OK?'

‘Oh my goodness, I'm sorry, Daze! I was miles away.' Grace smiled. ‘Are you ready for the off?'

‘All systems go!'

Forcing a smile onto her face, Grace tried not to think about the fact she didn't know any of the guests beyond the bride, groom, and their parents. Daisy and Marcus had kept the wedding small, and only invited family – apart from her; and as she hadn't invited a plus-one of her own, the nearest Grace would get to a slow dance in her dream dress was with Daisy's elderly uncle and his walking stick.

Following her radiant friend into the stunning surrounds of Hardwick Hall, Grace was unable to stop her heart aching when she saw the look of love and devotion Marcus gave his almost wife as he caught his first glimpse of his bride walking towards him.

Grace felt as though her facial muscles had undergone some sort of living rigor mortis. Surely she was seeing things? It had to be her imagination playing tricks. She'd been so caught up in the romance of Mathilda's and Robert's story that she was hallucinating. Rob couldn't possibly be standing in front of the chair next to the one she was due to sit on once the procession reached the front of the aisle. Mrs Marks must have cut off the blood supply to her head with all that lace-tugging.

Struggling not to wobble and fall off her heels, Grace came to an abrupt halt behind Daisy, took her bouquet, and closed her eyes for a split second. When she opened them again she fully expected the chair in question to be empty.

It wasn't.

But Rob's in Houston
. The thought stubbornly played itself on continuous loop through her mind despite the evidence of her own eyes, which told her categorically that Rob really was there, looking extremely handsome in a navy blue suit.

‘I'm sorry if I startled you. Daisy said it should be a surprise.'

Much to Grace's relief, the quartet that had accompanied the bridal party up the aisle from the balcony stopped, and the registrar began to welcome the guests, giving her an excellent excuse for not even looking at Rob, let alone replying.

Grace didn't hear a word of the ceremony. Fiddling with Daisy's' bouquet of cream roses, she stared unwaveringly at the back of the bride's dress, her mind so overloaded with questions it actually felt blank. Her lips moved in time to the words of the hymns, but no sound came out of her mouth, and as the registrar declared Marcus and Daisy man and wife, it was only the clapping of the guests behind her that pulled Grace back to her senses.

Speaking out of the side of her mouth, Grace finally muttered, ‘But you're in Houston.'

‘Apparently I'm not.'

‘Why are you here, you hate me.'

‘Hate you?' Rob shook his head, his expression heavy with regret, as he produced a piece of paper from his suit pocket. It was well creased and worn, as if it held words that he'd read, and reread, many times. With a half-smile he passed it to Grace.

Uncertain, Grace took it, and found herself confronted by a page of her own scribbled writing. It was obviously not the original, but a scanned or photocopied version of the list of things she liked about Rob that she'd made when she'd been staying in Daisy's spare room.

Speaking under his breath so as not to disturb the proceedings, Rob said, ‘Did you know that even when you go pale, your freckles stay dark? It's as if they're tiny dots that someone has added on with a brown felt tip. Very cute.'

Letting the fact Rob had mentioned she was cute warm her heart for a moment, Grace kept her eyes on the list. ‘Daisy sent this to you? She stole your email address off my phone?'

‘She did.'

Grace looked across to where Marcus and Daisy were chatting to the registrar while they signed the wedding certificate, just as her best friend turned and winked at her.

‘Why are you here, Rob?' Unwilling to allow herself to feel hopeful, Grace stared him squarely in the face. ‘Why talk to me now, when you walked out on me then?'

‘Daisy managed to convince me that you'd forgive me for being an idiot, that you felt guilty about Malcolm, but were too stubborn to ever say so.'

‘I see.' Grace felt a smile nudging her, but she wasn't prepared to let him off the hook that easily.

‘She also told me about Malcolm's stepmother, and how you'd been cornered into the coffee date.'

Grace fiddled with the petals of the flowers lying in her lap. ‘You let Daisy explain, but not me?'

Rob sighed. ‘My only excuse, apart from being an idiot, is that I've been hurt before. Sounds feeble, but it's true.'

‘It's not feeble.' Grace glanced up at him, but turned away quickly. The way he was holding his hands out to her was redirecting her mind away from the matter in hand, and to their time together in her kitchen. Returning her gaze to the married couple, Grace said, ‘but what
is
feeble is not giving me a chance to explain myself.'

‘I …' Grace stopped Rob in his tracks. ‘We'll have to do this later. Daisy and Marcus are coming back to the front.' She stood up, ready to return the bouquet to Daisy, ‘unless you intend to disappear again, that is.'

‘Not a chance.' Rob grinned, his eyes twinkling in much the way Grace had described Robert's as he looked at Mathilda. ‘For a start, Daisy would kill me!'

Grace wasn't sure how she got through either the photographs or the line-up before the reception. Daisy kept nudging her, ‘Try and smile naturally, woman, you look like a waxwork model!'

‘Don't blame me. It's your fault.'

Daisy wriggled her eyebrows, ‘Don't tell me you aren't pleased to see him, Dr Harper, ‘cos I won't believe you.'

‘And I don't suppose I'm allowed to hit you on your wedding day, Mrs Stevens; so I suppose I'd better forgive you!'

Daisy smirked, ‘I'll take that as a “thank you, Daisy, I'm thrilled you persuaded Rob to cut short his conference and fly thousands of miles to see me in my pretty frock”, shall I?'

Unable to prevent her own smile now, Grace took two glasses of Bucks Fizz from a passing waiter, ‘I think we need a drink! How long till the meal starts?'

‘Just long enough for you to go and apologise to Rob, for him to apologise to you, and for me to make nice with my new mother-in-law.'

Not wanting to interrupt Rob, who was talking to Marcus and his brother, Grace took the opportunity to rest her feet. Sitting at the same table she'd sat at only twenty-four hours ago, dreaming of what might have been, she realised that thanks to Daisy, she'd been given a second chance. ‘Hello again.'

Grace jumped, slopping her drink alarming as Rob appeared next to her. But rather than be cross as droplets of orange flavoured alcohol hit her dress, she burst out laughing.