Amber's Wedding. SARA WOOD
nodded sympathetically. ‘It’s over. Life will begin again for you.’
But Amber felt like crying. The future seemed bleak without the prospect of a man she could love in her life. Desperate to stay calm, she turned away, walked over to the window and stared into the darkness. ‘I wish I could believe that.’
‘You can’t shut yourself off for ever,’ he murmured softly.
Hearing the coaxing message in his tone, she whirled around, half-blind with the film of tears. ‘You don’t understand how badly I feel about myself! I mean to keep my head below the parapet in future! I’ll never forget what it’s been like to feel disgusted with myself for abandoning my self-respect.’
Jake made a consoling gesture. ‘You were the victim of an expert seducer—’
‘I succumbed. He didn’t force me,’ she admitted honestly. ‘It’s been a nightmare, Jake—one I’ve deserved. I blame myself for being stupid.’ She felt herself drooping with exhaustion. ‘Don’t expect anything of me, other than the friendship I’m sure we can share. I’ll be a good wife and a good mother and a good companion. Please don’t ask any more of me—I can’t give it. Mary Smith thinks the world of you and I respect her judgement. I’m trusting you to leave me alone. In return, I’ll agree to keep my child’s origin a secret for the time you suggest. You have my word.’
‘Thank you,’ he said quietly. ‘And I’ll do my best to be a good father whenever I’m around. I know that you’ll more than compensate for my absences. You have a natural way with children, Amber. The refugee kids loved you. And you gave them a great deal: laughter, comfort, love...’
His voice was husky but unthreatening and she warmed to Jake, the man she admired, who’d spoken gently to her when she was so hurt and who’d made her begin her life again. He’d given her a way out of her hell, some hope, some dignity.
Her spirits rose a little. The future would be better than the past, she told herself. It had to be. She had no reserves of strength to cope with any more distress.
‘The children had lost everything,’ she said pensively. ‘And I’ve had such a loving family. I know how awful I felt when each of my parents died. A gap opened in my life that’ll never be filled. Stuart did his best, but it wasn’t the same as having my father around. Dad was part of me, you see—my flesh and blood.’
‘And you adored your mother, you said.’ Jake sounded as if he understood her emptiness.
‘I miss her dreadfully,’ she admitted. ‘That’s why I could empathise with the displaced children. That’s why I worked so hard to find their parents for them. My parents were everything to me. Loyal, truthful, totally straight—’
‘Yes, yes...’ Jake wouldn’t look at her. He shifted uncomfortably, as if her confidences embarrassed him. ‘Don’t build up your parents to be gods in your mind, Amber,’ he said in warning. ‘Don’t put them on a pedestal. It’s a mistake—’
‘Not in their case.’ Her eyes shone softly. ‘They were special and I’m proud to be their daughter.’
‘No one is perfect,’ he persisted, much to her annoyance. ‘Even they might have had failings or secrets they’d have preferred kept hidden.’
‘I won’t hear a word against them!’ she declared indignantly, a little uneasy with the solemn, almost pitying way he was looking at her. Tiredness swept over her and she sighed. ‘I feel drained.’
‘Poor Amber. You’re shaking like a leaf. It’s all become too much for you to handle, hasn’t it? Why don’t you lie down for a while?’
The bed looked welcoming. But, strangely, so did he. Her urge to throw herself into his arms was rather unnerving. ‘I think I’d better keep going,’ she said thinly. ‘I’ll spend a little time with our guests and then perhaps we can leave.’ She took a few unwilling steps towards the door.
‘Wait a minute. You can’t go like that,’ Jake said in a kindly tone. ‘Your veil is crooked and you look very wan with no make-up on your face.’
‘Oh!’ Amber heaved a sigh. ‘I am a bit of a mess. I forgot. Thanks.’
‘You’re not a mess. You’re very beautiful. Rather fragile and ethereal,’ he said quietly.
She blinked in surprise, at a loss for an answer. Nervously she picked up her skirts, rustling her way to the dressing table, and sat down to make the adjustments. Her hands were stiff and awkward and she couldn’t make them do what she wanted them to.
While she fumbled in her make-up bag for a lipstick, her attention kept straying to Jake, who was reflected in the mirror. The warm slide of his encouraging smile made her drop the lipstick on the floor. She bent down for it and knew the minute it was in her shaking hands that she’d never be able to use it. She’d end up looking like a clown.
‘Try the powder,’ he suggested.
‘I was going to.’ Hastily she dabbed at her face with a sable brush. ‘Look, I’m edgy. Do you have to watch?’ she muttered, uncomfortable with his intense scrutiny.
‘I think I ought to stay with you,’ he replied.
His voice had deepened to a husky growl that reached all the way down to her wriggling toes and all the way up again, doing odd things to her body on the way.
She slammed the powder-compact down. ‘It’s no good! I can’t face the guests,’ she said in dismay, dreading the thought of having to pretend to flirt with Jake.
‘Yes, you can,’ he said firmly. ‘Like some help with your lipstick?’ he offered.
She froze. He took two strides towards her. She felt her heart soar to the roof of her mouth, and before she could drag it back down again he’d dropped to his haunches in front of her, picked up the lip pencil she’d been agitatedly fiddling with and was holding her chin firmly between his finger and thumb.
‘I’m quite good at this,’ he said reassuringly.
‘Not as good as me!’ she squeaked.
He smiled in amused disagreement. ‘Have you seen your hands? Hold still.’
The velvety whisper kept her paralysed in the chair. Jake slowly brought the pencil towards her mouth. Amber held her breath and watched the lazy flutter of his incredibly long eyelashes as they lowered almost to the sword-blade cheekbones. His concentration was spellbinding and she was its prisoner, captured by the sensual beauty of his face.
Quite irrationally afraid, she let the pencil softly shape the full curves of her mouth. It felt deeply erotic, having Jake do that for her, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, didn’t dare to speak. Because she knew that she’d croak like a frog and he’d misinterpret her confusion.
‘Open,’ he coaxed, smiling charmingly.
Her lips had parted for him before she could stop them. She closed her eyes to shut out his handsome face. It was too sexy, too dangerous and too near. The faint drift of his breath lifted all the tiny hairs around her mouth. Next she felt the stroke of the creamy lipstick around the high arch of her mouth and then it was gliding over her full lower lip very, very slowly. Too slowly.
And then it stopped. Jake’s breathing rasped louder. Somehow she forced her eyes open. He was looking at her as though transfixed.
So quickly did he jump to his feet that she jerked her head around to check her reflection in the mirror and see what had startled him. Two hot spots of colour burned on her cheeks. Her mouth seemed to be pouting an indolent invitation. She peered closer. Was that because of the way he’d painted it? Or had her apparent allure startled him?
‘Here.’ Apparently quite detached, Jake passed her a tissue to blot her lips. ‘Anything else you want me to adjust?’ he asked lightly. ‘Corsets, false leg, suspenders?’
‘I can manage!’ she said, hastily