The Accidental Bride (26 page)

John seemed to mull the idea over. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me. They make a great couple, so comfortable with each other. I’d be glad to hear it, if they decide to make a commitment.’

‘Me too.’

Lizzie was just about to say more when the bedroom door, which had been open just a crack, swung wider and Alice the tortoiseshell cat prowled in. The little feline had been out and about in the park most of the afternoon, having put in an appearance beside the pool, and found the splashing of murder-tag-water-polo not to her liking. She’d accepted her rightful homage, and some fussing, then quit the scene. Now, she leapt onto the bed and crept up between Lizzie’s and John’s stretched-out legs.

‘Well, that puts paid to any further “celebration” for the time being,’ observed John, reaching down to stroke the cat’s ears and receiving the reward of a loud thrumming purr.

‘Looks like she approves too,’ said Lizzie, also stroking Alice. ‘That’s good to know.’

‘That just leaves my family, and your family, and Shelley and Mr Kraft,’ continued John. ‘We’ll see your mother and father next weekend, and perhaps my lot the weekend after.’ He gave a great, theatrical shudder. ‘And maybe you could text or call Shelley now? Or is it too late?’

The clock on the mantelpiece read 1 a.m.

‘I’ll text her,’ said Lizzie, sitting up and reaching for her phone on the bedside table. ‘I won’t call. You never know what she and Sholto might be up to. I’d imagine they’re very sexually adventurous, not like us staid old engaged people.’

‘If this cat hadn’t settled in, I’d show you staid, young lady!’ said John with a saturnine smile.

What to say? Lizzie debated a moment. Shelley would be pleased for her, she knew, but news like this marked a watershed in her relationship with her friend. They’d been close as close for quite a while; the two of them – and Brent – against the world. And now that configuration was radically changed.

It’s John and me against the world now. And probably Brent and Tom, too. But how about you, Shell? Is it you and Sholto? I hope so, and if it is, I hope it works out for you.

Tapping quickly, she decided to keep it simple.

You won’t believe this. I’m engaged!!!!! I’ll phone you for a natter tomorrow, or in the week. But just wanted to let you know. Love and kisses, L

She pressed send, and smiled at John as she set aside the phone.

‘That’s it, then. Everybody who needs to know at this stage knows. I’ll tell Marie when I go into the shop on Monday. What shall we do now?’

‘Well, I think that as soon as this cat moves her furry butt we should make love again.’ John pressed his thigh gently against Alice’s tortoiseshell flank, but to no avail. ‘But until then, maybe we could make a few plans?’ He leant over and kissed Lizzie on the cheek, while stroking the cat.

‘Plans it is, then,’ Lizzie affirmed.

Heck, this was scary … but exciting!

Shelley stared at the screen of her phone, feeling a little thud of ‘something’ inside her. What was it? Happiness for her friend, yes. Maybe just a little envy, obviously. John Smith was absolutely loaded, and Lizzie would never ever have to concern herself with money worries ever again. Wistfulness? Yes, that, but not about the money.

She glanced across at Sholto. They were sitting on a bench in the party quarter of town, the Piazza, looking out onto the canal. Night-life was still in full swing as Sunday morning waxed, and loud but largely good-humoured posses of clubbers and other animals were milling about across the broad concourse, making their way from the venues that were closing towards the ones still open.

What would Sholto think of this news? Shelley almost hesitated to tell him. He’d enjoyed the pool party at Dalethwaite, that was obvious, and everyone had got on well together, despite them being such a disparate bunch. But since they’d left in the taxi, he’d lapsed now and again into the deepest thought, sometimes with a slight frown on his tough-hewn face.

Shelley had expected that they’d go straight back to St Patrick’s Road, on leaving the manor house, and they had done. But when they’d reached the house, Sholto had asked the cab to wait, and they’d dropped their bags with their
swimming gear, and then jumped straight back in it, heading for town, and a drink at the Waverley Metro. Even though neither of them had been due to work there that evening, Shelley had still liked the idea. She always did. She loved the buzz of the Metro, and the crowd it attracted. Even on a normal night, there was always an electric atmosphere. On a fetish night, it made her heart trip just to walk in there.

Unable not to take his job seriously, Sholto had checked in with Greg, who was duty man tonight. There was nothing to worry about, though: takings were up, the vibe was great, as always, and there’d been no incidents. Shelley and Sholto had a couple of drinks, and boogied to a couple of numbers on the dance floor, but then, by unspoken agreement, left after a last word with Greg.

‘What is it?’

With a jump, Shelley realised Sholto was staring at her curiously, although she’d not spoken a word about the contents of the text. ‘Is something wrong?’ He nodded to her phone.

‘Er, nothing, really. In fact, it’s good news, actually.’ Should she tell him? She could still sense that trickle of an edge in him. He had something on his mind, something to do with the afternoon they’d spent, despite how much fun it’d been.

No use keeping things from him, though. ‘It’s from Lizzie. John’s just proposed … and she’s accepted,’ she said, shoving her mobile back into her little cross-body bag.

Sholto nodded, apparently unfazed. ‘I had a feeling that might happen soon. Didn’t you? It’s obvious he’s besotted with her, and she with him. And there’s nothing really standing in their way, so why shouldn’t they get hitched?’

His voice was smooth and even, yet Shelley, growing
more attuned to him by the day, could almost taste the tension.

‘I suppose not,’ she said, wanting to slide along the bench, closer to him, so she could put her arms around him. Reassure him, although about what, she wasn’t precisely sure. Money, she guessed. All he’d lost, and not just the money. Maybe she’d suggest a little session when they got in. Something to take his mind off things. He’d given her a few playful slaps on the bottom when they’d been changing in the cabana at Dalethwaite, but it’d just been larking about, really.

‘There’s nothing to stop them really,’ she went on. ‘I mean … there’s the age gap and everything, but they don’t seem bothered by it, so why should anybody else be?’

‘That’s nothing,’ said Sholto, almost dismissively.

‘What’s wrong?’ asked Shelley, mirroring Sholto’s earlier enquiry.

He was quiet for a few moments, staring out into the Piazza in a way that said he didn’t see either the place, or the people.

‘I just wish I could give you all that,’ he blurted out, his voice hard-edged. ‘I could have done once. Well, certainly not to that degree. But we could have had a nice place, a secure future, a comfortable life, with a bit of spice round the edges.’ He turned to her, his green eyes full of familiar shadows. ‘You know I want to, don’t you? I know I’ve not said it in so many words, but I’ve fallen for you, Shell. I want us to be together. Properly, you know?’

Shelley’s heart beat hard, a thud on her own behalf now. In light of Lizzie’s news, was this … Was this Sholto’s version of a proposal?

She slid along the seat, not stopping to think, but just
circling her arms around him, beneath his jacket. It was getting chilly now, and his powerful body seemed all the warmer for it.

‘I don’t want all that, Sholto. What Lizzie’s got is a full-on fairy tale, a bit over the top, really. I know she’ll be happy, and she’ll take to it like a duck to water, because John will be there beside her.’ She tightened her arms around her man, for emphasis. ‘But it’s not really what I want. OK, a little bit more money would be nice, but we’re doing fine, aren’t we? We’ve both got steady jobs. Doing stuff we enjoy, at last. And we’ve got a decent place to live that costs us next to nothing.’ Shooting forward, she pressed her lips to his jawline, nuzzling, trying to relax the tension in him. ‘And … well … we’ve got each other, and that’s all I really want, not millions and big houses and titles and whatnot.’ She kissed again, then, hardly able to breathe, she went for broke. ‘I just want you, Sholto. I know you might not be ready yet, but I just want to put this out there in the meantime. I love you.’

Barely daring to look at him, she did so, nevertheless. And her batting heart leapt again. His green eyes were warm, full of wonder. ‘Oh, Shelley,’ he murmured, then pulled her against him, kissing her hair, his hands sliding up and down her back, almost as if she were Mulder the cat and he was stroking her.

Was it just affection? Or was it more? It was certainly something, and it felt good.

Somehow their mouths found each other, and they kissed hard. It was a hot kiss, a sex kiss, but more, deeper. Shelley wanted her man, as she always did, but there was something else. An awareness that she’d put herself out there, in a vulnerable position, revealing her emotion, and
for once in her life, it hadn’t been a mistake. It’d been the right thing to do, and Sholto had liked it. Did like it.

As his hand slid up her ribcage, she almost moaned. His hands were big, nearly all-encompassing, but they had a gentle touch too. His massage skills were amazing. He could go light; he could go in hard. And both were good. It was the same with sex and BDSM play. He could beat her fiercely, when she wanted it. And caress with breath-taking finesse when she wanted that instead.

He could be tough and taciturn too, or as kind and considerate as an angel.

Somewhere outside their little zone of togetherness, an amiable, ribald voice cried out, ‘Go on, my son!’ and Shelley laughed in the kiss, aware that they were putting on a show.

When they drew apart Sholto’s green eyes were bright, full of desire, but a lust tempered with tenderness. He grabbed her by the hand and drew her to her feet. ‘Come on, woman, let’s fuck.’

Shelley gasped, but she was right with him, and when Sholto marched her across the Piazza, she hurried along beside him, grinning. She knew where they were going. They’d been there before.

There was a narrow little alley, tucked away between two shops, on the way to the bus station. They’d found it once whilst looking for a shortcut, and in the shadows, hot for each other, they’d kissed, then it’d spiralled out of control and they’d fucked up against the wall. Shelley had hardly been able to believe that they’d done what they’d done – but the next time they’d been that way, they’d done it again!

Within moments, they were sidling into their secret place like a couple of spies surreptitiously scoping out a dead-letter box. Sholto grabbed her and backed her up against the none too pristine brickwork. Shelley didn’t care, though, and now less than ever. This was her Sholto, the man she respected and loved. He might not be the superstar that John Smith was, but in his own way, and for her, he shone.

Their mouths met, and their tongues twined and battled. Picking up where he’d left off in the Piazza, Sholto slid his hand up her top, pushed aside her bra and cupped her breast. The caress was rough and eager, lacking in the finesse of which she knew he was eminently capable. But it was just what she needed and wanted. Her heart sang when
he grunted with satisfaction at the touch of her flesh, and she felt his kiss shape into a smile against her mouth.

She yelped when he squeezed her nipple, and a shot of sensation sped from his fingertips to the niche between her legs. He squeezed harder and she rubbed her crotch against him. ‘Horny little bitch,’ he growled, sounding happy and pleased. ‘Pull your skirt up and touch yourself,’ he commanded, still pinching her breast tip, his free hand flat against the wall beside her head.

Shelley sprang to obedience, hauling up her flirty summer skirt and pushing her hand into her pants. She was swimming with lust for him already. Hell, yes! She rubbed herself as Sholto assailed her tits, pinching one, then the other, and back again.

‘Bring yourself off, Shell. I want an orgasm out of you. Now. Don’t disappoint me.’

So masterful. It was easy. She worked her clit like a madwoman, and while she did, he abandoned her breast and thrust fingers into her mouth, so she could suckle them.

It only took a moment or two, and she nearly bit down on him, coming hard, and fast, in great wrenching waves. She tried to keep quiet, but she couldn’t. Uncouth noises issued from her lips, garbled by the obstruction in her mouth. They sounded loud too, stark over the voices of people passing the end of the alley. Out of the corner of her eye, Shelley glanced that way, half-fearful someone would hear her and come to investigate, half hoping, that someone would come to watch. The idea of some unknown person … man … seeing her come made the pleasure skyrocket.

Drawing his fingers from her mouth, Sholto kissed her through the tumult, then murmured, ‘I want you, babe.
I’m going to fuck you now.’ Nonsense words for a genuine emotion. ‘Now, take your pants off.’

Swaying on shaky legs, Shelley obeyed him, and just as she was about to stuff her knickers in her pocket, Sholto grabbed them and flung them away down the alley. ‘Bare for me now,’ he said, in triumph, and she could feel him fishing about in the back pocket of his jeans for a condom. Then, turning slightly away from the entrance to the alley, he unzipped and worked his cock out of his fly and underwear.

Bashful, eh?

Shelley smiled. Maybe her hard, bold, tough boyfriend had his shy side after all. For herself, she didn’t care, right at that moment, who saw her; although perhaps soon, very soon, she might not want to show off, but to keep her nakedness exclusively for her man. And whatever he might eventually become to her.

‘Put the rubber on me.’

She complied, sinking to her knees on the roughly concreted surface beneath her. Quickly, she rolled the condom on, then sucked his glans a bit through it, not really liking the rubber flavour, but joyous to please him.