The Accidental Bride (23 page)

Bloody idiot. You’re not going into battle. Even if she wants nothing to do with marriage, she’s still here, isn’t she? This is solid and enduring, what we have already. Clara can think what she likes, but there’s nothing she can do. She can go fuck herself!

He smiled at his own absurdity as he pushed open the door to the master bedroom, his heart and, inevitably, his cock, rising at the sight of Lizzie in bed.

His love was bundled up too, wrapped in a shawl over a T-shirt and soft pyjama bottoms. She was flicking through a copy of
Draper
, but he could tell her attention wasn’t really on it. Catching sight of him, a smile lit her face as she battled too, facing their shared preoccupations.

‘Shall I light the fire, love?’ he asked, approaching. ‘It’s a bit nippy tonight.’

‘No, it’s OK. I’ll be warm when you get into bed.’ Flinging aside her trade magazine, she held back the covers for him invitingly.

He flung off his robe and climbed in beside her, heart thudding, loins thudding too. Without make-up, she was
fresh and exquisite, her black hair brushed and loose, so shiny. Her heart was in her eyes and he almost gasped aloud.

God, I’m the luckiest man alive.

‘So?’

‘So?’

They both laughed at once.

‘I suspect we’re both probably singing from the same page,’ said Lizzie, twisting to face him, tucking her legs to one side. His angel, yet total woman, total sex.

‘Yes, and that would be the hymn sheet as written by my ex-wife.’

‘That’s the one.’ She smiled at him. He could see her nervousness, but a sheen of excitement too, and his spirits soared.

Oh God, he was nervous too. Like the adolescent he’d once been, barely able to reign in his emotions, his hormones. But she was with him. He could ask. He could ask and know that he wouldn’t be refused.

Lizzie sat very still, although inside every bit of her was jittering. John’s eyes were level as he looked at her, but there was the same out-of-control energy in them too. For once, it wasn’t primarily to do with sex, even though she hadn’t been able to ignore his partial erection.

This is it. The next step. The big one.

She felt like Neil Armstrong on the ladder. One small step, a few simple words. One giant leap into a new ball game, a new world.

‘What Caroline said is right, love.’ John’s voice was low, and both measured and taut. Alarm rose in her, then ebbed when he smiled. That golden smile of his, happy but laced with anxiousness now. So boyish. ‘The simple fact is that I
love you, Lizzie. I can’t imagine a life without you now, and for me, it’s for ever.’ He reached for her hand and folded it in both of his, the hold light as if she were precious and fragile. ‘I never thought I’d say this. And I never have said it before, not in so many words. But I want to marry you, love. Will you marry me?’

It was a question. A supplication. But his blue eyes were filled with intense power. Stunned by the words out loud, despite them being exactly what she’d expected, Lizzie almost laughed. He was the unstoppable, irresistible John Smith, and as ever, on the cusp of a critical ‘deal’, he’d deployed his most effective bargaining tools, his fabulous glamour and his hypnotising gaze.

She opened her mouth, wanting to scream the words
Yes! Yes! Yes!
despite her qualms, but somehow her lips and tongue wouldn’t work. They probably wouldn’t function properly for a kiss either, but she shot forward anyway, and aimed her mouth at his, taking one.

Surprised for a split second, John gasped, then responded, lifting one hand and sliding it into her hair, cradling her head. It was a sweet kiss, a gentle kiss, but when they drew apart they were both panting as if they’d been passionately embracing for hours.

‘Is that a “yes”?’ The mesmerising expression wavered, and Lizzie pressed forward again, giving him another, very quick affirmative kiss.

‘Yes, it’s a “yes”.’ Crazy shivers wracked her body. Shock of a kind. It was stupid but suddenly she couldn’t stop shaking. Or laughing.

John darted for her sliding shawl, then swathed it back around her shoulders, enclosing her and it in a hug. He laughed too and they rocked together.

‘It is a bit mad, isn’t it?’ he said as they settled. ‘But I’m serious. I do want to marry you, Lizzie. I know we can be happy, and have a good, good life.’ He looked serious for a moment. ‘But I also know that there are complications, implications, and I’m putting a god-awful responsibility on you.’ His hands enfolded hers again. ‘I’ll do everything in my power to smooth the way for you, my love, but I can’t think of a woman on earth who’s more up for the challenge of taking me on.’

God, it was a challenge. Hell, yes. But this was John. Her John. The love of her life, he’d be worth it. The vista of the years ahead started to unreel in her head, and the shakes threatened again. But she quashed them.
One step at a time, idiot. One step at a time.

She smiled at him, and he smiled back, then they were kissing again. And as their tongues duelled, a wicked little imp inside her murmured.

Up yours, Clara. Put this in your pipe and smoke it. You can’t have him now.

As they drew apart again, John gave her a sharp, knowing look. Oh, damn him and his empathy. He’d sensed the direction of her thought, if not the actual words. She waited for him to mention her
bête noire
, but he didn’t. He didn’t want to spoil things. The issue of Clara would no doubt loom again soon, but this was their moment, unique for just the two of them, and his ex-lover just didn’t belong in it.

‘The family stuff, the title stuff. We don’t have to do any of it, you know. Not if you don’t want to.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘There might be the odd social thing, Christmas, birthdays and whatnot. But only on your terms, love. Otherwise, we just keep our own household, here at Dalethwaite, and live our lives as we please.’

He was offering a safe way, an easy way, and yet perversely the rockier path, with its huge challenges, had a strange appeal. Hadn’t John been the wildest challenge of her life, when she’d first seen him, grinning at her over his glass of gin in the Lawns Bar? She hadn’t been a coward then, and she wouldn’t be one now. There were tests ahead, big ones, but the longer she knew John, the less she wanted to turn away from them.

‘But … um … What about children? Won’t your dad be counting on some? From us, that is?’

Yes, that was a biggie.

Lizzie had never been one to coo over babies, but she didn’t actively dislike them either. She’d just never really pictured herself in mother mode. Well, at least she hadn’t until certain little rogue notions had begun to sneak up on her lately.

‘Children, yes.’ John blinked. Were his own thoughts on the matter just as nebulous as hers? ‘We’ll have to have some, I think. Unless you’re violently opposed to the idea? If you are, the old man will probably get his shotgun out again and ban you from Montcalm too. But if he does, well, we’ll deal with it.’ He took her by the shoulders. Tightly. As if using the pressure to make her believe him. ‘It’s what you want, love, not what he wants. If the title goes, the title goes. I don’t care about anything but you.’

Oh God, what a responsibility. Never mind Neil Armstrong, she felt like the Duchess of Cambridge now, with the succession and the throne of England depending on the fruitfulness of her womb.

‘Don’t worry,’ said John, his voice firm, strong. He pressed his lips to hers again, briefly but passionately. ‘You’ll never have to do anything you don’t want. I hope
I’ve never made you feel that way, and I mean it most of all now, believe me.’

She did. His eyes said it all. The real strength was there, more than in his voice or his lips or his hold on her shoulders.

‘It’s not that I don’t want kids. I quite like them. But I just hadn’t envisaged having them for a while, you know?’ And now more than ever, when she finally had a job she enjoyed, and a man she wanted to enjoy a rampant, untrammelled sex life with. For a few years ahead at least.

John smiled. Happy. Relieved? Wasn’t he ready yet either? Would he ever be?

‘There’s plenty of time, Lizzie. Plenty. You’re only young, and hell, even I’m not quite in my dotage.’ He nodded, almost to himself, as if thinking on the fly. ‘Look, I do suspect that if my father at least knows there’ll be kids eventually, that’ll make him happy. And then perhaps he’ll relent and start to quite like his black sheep again.’ He laughed, giving her a hug, then sliding his hands all the way down her arms to clasp hers. Lifting her hands to his lips again, he covered them with kisses. ‘So, we’re sorted, then, Miss Aitchison? We’re engaged?’

‘Yes, I think so.’ It was still stunning, still hard to grasp the momentous nature of what they’d just agreed to do. ‘But is it officially or unofficially?’

John pursed his lips, thinking again.

‘A bit of both, maybe? Let’s tell a few people. Local friends, the household, etcetera … but wait and tell the respective parents face to face. It’s not as if either lot lives right on our doorstep. I would like to ask your father for your hand formally, next week.’ He quirked his sandy eyebrows at her. ‘Much as I play that black sheep role, I
think there’s still a bit of the traditionalist in me, you know?’

Oh, hell. Her parents. She’d been so busy worrying about John’s parents, and their aristo expectations, that she’d somehow managed to completely forget her own parents, the forthcoming visit, and how they’d respond to the news!

John and her mother had seemed to get on well on the phone, so that was a good sign. But there was still the issue of her marrying a man roughly the same age as her father. There was a big difference between them being OK with her dating an older man, and confronting her family, in a fait accompli, with John as their future son-in-law.

‘You’re worrying again,’ he said softly, rubbing her hands as if she’d complained of them being cold. ‘We’ll face them together, love. Together. And I’ll overwhelm them with my charm and good looks and my enormous mountains of money.’ He beamed at her. ‘Because, let’s face it, apart from my advanced years and general decrepitude, I’m a sound financial prospect as a husband.’

‘Twit!’

‘Not to mention the fact that their daughter will be marrying into the nobility, and what parents don’t secretly aspire to that for their offspring?’ He winked. ‘Even in these libertarian, egalitarian times.’

As an avid reader of
Hello!
and
OK!
, especially the doings of the royal family and assorted toffs, her mum would be thrilled by the idea of her daughter’s ennoblement. Lizzie wouldn’t have been at all surprised if her mum hadn’t already been poring over back issues, and other resources, trawling for details of John’s lineage, and his noble, blue-blood family.

‘I think my mum will be over the moon at me being Lady Something. Even if you were already in a bath chair.’
She winked back at him. ‘Not sure about my dad, though. He’s more of a republican.’

‘Well, I shall look forward to debating ideological issues with him when we meet, then.’ John leant forward, cradling her face, and kissed her again, a slow, sneaky kiss this time, tongue flicking at the seam of her lips.

Despite everything, Lizzie smiled inside, savouring his taste. Now the big step had been taken, it looked like John was set on guiding her to simpler, sweeter waters. The part of their relationship that was just them, and so much less full of complications.

Sliding her arms around him, she subsided back against the pillows, pulling him with her.

It was like sinking into a delicious familiar space. Warm, safe, known; but still dangerous and exciting in its own way.

The next big step had been taken. Now it was time to celebrate. John’s hand settled on her waist, her hip, reacquainting itself. It had been a long afternoon, and his touch was like fire after all those hours of having to behave for company at the pool party. His cock had been behaving itself for company too, but not now. It was hard and insistent, jabbing against her as he lay over her, kissing and kissing and kissing.

‘So, Milady Lizzie of Dalethwaite Manor, are you up for it?’ John growled, sneaking his hand under her T-shirt and cupping her breast imperiously. ‘It’s been bloody agony all today, keeping this rogue in check …’ he swirled his hips ‘… while watching you swan about looking like a sex goddess. It makes life very difficult for us lower orders who adore you.’

Ah, it was like that, was it? As he kissed her again, Lizzie smiled inside, remembering a game they’d once played, not all that long ago, in this very room.

‘You’re a very vulgar and forward ruffian, you are. Getting above your station, my lad,’ she reproved him, laughing as she reached down and took a less than ladylike hold on his cock. God, it was like iron. She was amazed he’d managed to keep it under control for so long, but then he did have special powers. ‘And as for this?’ She gave him a little squeeze. ‘Rubbing this disgusting object against me, what are you thinking? Have you no respect for your betters?’ She tightened her hold, infinitesimally, prompting a happy moan.

‘I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t help myself. I’ve been checking out your tits and your bum and your sumptuous thighs for hours.’ He rocked his hips, pushing himself against her hand. ‘It tends to have this effect on me. I don’t know why.’

He closed his finger and thumb on her nipple, rolling it, taunting it.

‘Uh oh, behave yourself!’ she said sharply. The authoritarian effect wavered a bit, though, and she gasped when he did it again, her own fingers releasing his erection. ‘Paws off, underling!’

‘But, ma’am, I thought you were enjoying it?’

‘I shall enjoy what I want to enjoy, and in my own good time. Now strip off and show me the goods, you insolent pleb!’ She needed breathing space, or she’d be throwing open her legs to him without any preliminaries, and surely an engagement – of sorts – deserved a little more than that to mark it!

And one should never waste the opportunity to make John undress for her.

‘Of course, milady.’ His grin was facetious. Adorable.