Wedding Wishes. Liz Fielding
leaving everyone else in his wake, that he’d forgotten that this was her show, not his.
He hauled himself to his feet. Steadied himself. The back was in a co-operative mood despite the row, or maybe because of it. If it was psychological, stress-related, it wasn’t this kind of adrenalin rush that triggered it. But he’d known all along what the problem was.
It had begun on the day he’d decided to offload Leopard Tree Lodge, rid himself of the one resort in his portfolio that he couldn’t bear to visit. Couldn’t stop thinking about.
He moved carefully across the deck to the tree house; the pain had definitely eased, but he wasn’t about to take any chances. Once inside, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the different light level, but then he opened the wardrobe door and saw exactly what Josie had seen.
A stunning piece of feminine kit made from purple chiffon hanging next to his suit. A pair of high heeled shoes that appeared to consist solely of straps beside his loafers. His grip, her suitcase.
Alesia had only done what he’d asked her, but the result did not give the impression of two strangers sharing a room out of convenience—her stuff at one end, his at the other. It had the intimacy of the wardrobe of two people sharing a room, sharing a bed because they were together, an item. Because they wanted to.
He could have asked Francis to pack for him, but it was time to go, get out of here. If he called an air taxi now he’d be in time to get away tonight and, without waiting, he bent to pick up his grip.
The chef had been able to spare her an hour to go through the menu for the pre-wedding dinner.
After she’d gone through the menu, including special dietary needs, she’d checked the linen, then she and the head waiter had laid out a table so that they both knew what they’d be doing on the day of the wedding.
She had thought that the colours might be a bit overpowering, but strong light needed rich colours and the orange cloths and pale blue draw sheets looked stunning against the evening sun. The table flowers would be marigolds and forget-me-nots. To her intense relief, there were no balloons; the chance of small pieces of latex being ingested by animals was too great to risk.
It was almost dark by the time she headed back through the trees, but there were solar lamps along the bridge, on the steps and decks, threaded through the trees. It gave everything an ethereal fairyland quality.
‘Are you okay on your own?’ she asked Cryssie when she stopped to pick up the wedding dress. Now it was dark she could understand why she might not want to be alone out at the far end of the lodge. Might have felt a little nervous herself…
‘Absolutely. It’s been mad for the last few weeks. It’s great to get a bit of peace, to be honest. I’m looking forward to an early night.’
‘Well, you know where I am if you need anything. I’ll see you later.’
That done, she straightened her shoulders and headed back to face Gideon. Eat a little humble pie.
The deck was bathed in cool, low level light, but there was no sign of Gideon and no candles had been lit inside.
He couldn’t have surrendered, surely? Taken her at her word. He could barely move…
‘Gideon?’ she called, assailed by a sudden rush of alarm.
‘I’m on the floor. Please try not to fall on top of me.’
‘Where are you? What happened?’
‘I’m in front of the wardrobe.’
She felt her way cautiously in the direction of his voice and collided with the edge of the open wardrobe door.
‘Ouch!’
‘Sorry. I should have warned you about that.’
‘I’m okay.’ Apart from the crack on her forehead and the odd whirling star.
She felt for the top of the door, carefully hung the dress over it, then got down on her knees and felt around until she’d found his leg. Warm, strong…
‘Careful where you’re putting your hand,’ he warned as she edged forward and she jerked it away.
‘What happened?’ she repeated. ‘Did you fall? Have you hurt your head?’
‘No and no. I bent to pick up my bag so that I could pack and my back seized again.’
‘You are such an idiot.’
‘I’ve been lying here for hours just waiting for you to tell me that. Where the hell have you been?’
‘Doing my job. Talking to the chef, discussing arrangements with David, counting tablecloths.’
Putting off the moment when she’d have to face him, apologise.
‘Vital work, obviously,’ he replied.
‘It’s what Celebrity is paying me for. Nursemaiding you isn’t part of the deal,’ she snapped. Then, not sure whether she was more furious with herself or with him, ‘Damn it, Gideon, I came back ready to apologise, play nice and you’ve set me off again.’
‘Play nice?’ he repeated, with a soft rising inflection that suggested all manner of pleasurable games. ‘Well, that’s more like it.’
In the darkness, with no visual stimulus, his low, gravelly voice was enough to send a sensuous curl of heat winding through that hidden central core that she kept locked away. Just as his eyes had lit up her body when she’d come face to face with him that morning. As his touch had seduced her into a reckless kiss.
Every part of him seemed to touch her with an intimacy that effortlessly undermined her defences.
Control…Control…
‘Are you in pain?’ she asked, summoning up her best ‘nanny’ voice, the one she kept for panicking brides, weeping mothers-of-the-groom and pageboys intent on mayhem. Determinedly ignoring the seductive power of his voice. Blocking out feelings that she couldn’t handle.
‘It’s getting better. Isn’t lying on a hard surface supposed to be therapeutic? Maybe bringing me down was my back’s way of telling me what it needs.’
‘Smart back. Maybe you should sleep down here,’ she suggested.
‘Is that your best offer?’
‘Oh, shut up. I’ll light the candles,’ she said, shuffling back the way she’d come so that she could move around him. She misjudged his length, caught his foot with her knee.
‘Ouch!’
‘Sorry…’
She backed off carefully, crawled towards the bed, banged her head against the wooden frame. ‘Ouch!’
Gideon began to laugh.
‘It’s not funny!’
‘No. Sorry…’
That was enough to set her off and, as he peppered his laughter with short scatological expletives each time he jarred his back, she broke down and, helpless with laughter, collapsed beside him, provoking another, ‘Ouch!’
For a moment the two of them lay, side by side in the dark, trying to recover. It took an age for her to smother the outbreaks of giggles, but every time she said ‘Sorry’ it set them both off again. Then his hand found hers in the dark and all desire to laugh left her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Some brides want to include a much-loved dog, pony or other animal as part of their big day. This can be a challenge…
—The Perfect Wedding by Serafina
March
‘THAT’S better. Are you okay?’ Gideon asked as she hiccupped and gasped as she tried to get her breath