Confessions Of A Bad Bridesmaid
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Three more days. Seventy-two more hours. Then he’d be back in London. Solid, uncomplicated, manageable.
‘Will there at least be wine?’
Her quiet question made him turn to face her. She seemed totally unable to be quiet.
‘Yes, Olivia. There will be wine. Loads of wine, if my father has anything to do with it.’
‘At least your father has his priorities straight,’ she said as she turned to look out of the window.
His mouth twitched again. She was inappropriate. And probably stupid. But she was amusing.
Another minute passed and she shifted in her seat. His eyes were drawn to her golden legs. They stretched out long and muscular and her thighs glowed against the light of the dash. He looked away quickly.
‘Anyway, I didn’t realise this weekend was all about you. I would have thought it was more important your friend was happy,’ he said.
He glanced at her as she turned to face him. Her cheeks were pink and her mouth was set in a thin, grim line. She hadn’t liked that comment.
‘Fiona told me you were nice, but then she never was a very good judge of character.’
Her blue eyes were like icicles. Edward tried to hold back a smirk. Her little words couldn’t even get close to scratching him. He said worse things to himself when he caught his finger in a drawer.
‘Well, you would know her better than me—you are her best friend after all.’
She huffed. Actually huffed. Like a six-year-old. He almost laughed as he turned into the sticky S-bend that meant he was close to his parents’ house.
‘If the rest of your family are like you I can see I’m in for a very long night.’
‘Oh, my family are not like me at all. They’re much more unpleasant.’ He could feel her staring at the side of his face. ‘And they’re not big on children, so I suggest you unfold your arms and stop pouting like that.’
She unfolded her arms and huffed again. He thought he’d made her stop talking, but if nothing else, she was determined.
‘You are awful.’
This time he really did smile. A nice wide grin that made his face muscles hurt. ‘You’re too kind.’
* * *
Olivia turned away. What an awful man! Fiona had said he was nice. She should have suspected something then. Fiona never said a bad word about anyone. Nice was code for awful, because that was the worst word Fiona could bring herself to say about anyone. And now she was in for an evening with a bunch of stuffy old people in the middle of the sleepy English countryside with Mr Nicely Awful.
She let out a breath. She’d been so looking forward to this trip. Fiona and Olivia had been best friends since they were twenty-one. They had bonded over a couple of horrible ex-boyfriends and been soul sisters ever since. They’d partied together, they’d cried together and when Fiona had announced she was leaving to move in with Will six months ago Olivia had felt as if someone had shot a cannonball right through her. Since then she’d been lost, directionless. She hadn’t realised how much she’d relied on her best friend until she wasn’t there any more.
‘You must be looking forward to seeing your friend again.’
His deep voice broke into her thoughts. Why did he keep talking to her? It was blatantly clear he didn’t like her. Was it his English politeness? Or did he like torturing her? She suspected it was a bit of both.
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Fiona told me you were quite close.’
She noticed his hands had returned to their normal colour. He had long fingers and solid, thick wrists. A sprinkling of black hair peeped out from the cuff of his crisp white shirt. Olivia turned away quickly. Why the hell was she thinking about his wrist hair?
‘We were...we are. We’re more like sisters than friends.’
She had an actual sister. One she tried not to think about too often. Her sister had asked her to come out with her and her beautiful friends a few weeks ago, when Olivia had been feeling particularly lonely. But she’d refused. Because that would have been like knitting a jumper for a penguin. Just. Plain. Stupid.
‘Are you looking forward to seeing her again?’
Still talking to her! Olivia looked out of the window. He had a deep voice and it seemed to seep through her skin. It was grumbly and a little bit sexy, and she didn’t want to think about him like that.
‘I was. I mean—I am.’ She’d been looking forward to seeing Fiona again. And in equal parts dreading it, if she were honest. For some reason she felt a little awkward about seeing her best friend all loved up and happy and moving on—without her. But for this moron to imply she wasn’t happy for her friend and only thought of herself was horrible. And wrong. Of course this weekend was about Fiona.
‘I’m very happy for her. Really happy for her. Really very happy.’ And she was. But she couldn’t help but wonder if this weekend there might just be...perhaps...someone she could meet.
‘Have you convinced yourself yet?’
Olivia didn’t miss the slight chuckle in his voice. Her eyes slid back to the solid block of bloke next to her as he continued.
‘Or are you still suffering from a bad case of Bride Envy?’
She looked away and took a deep breath to alleviate the annoying tapping in her chest. The tapping that seemed plugged into her tear ducts. She felt it every time she thought of her prospects. She’d been trying hard to come to terms with them. She knew the deal. She was neither pretty enough nor interesting enough to hold a man’s attention for very long. But there had to be someone. Even Ellie—her chain-smoking, beanie-wearing landlady—had recently got engaged. She had to be more desirable than Ellie!
And besides, Olivia wasn’t after a husband. A boyfriend would be nice. But all she really hoped for this weekend was a nice British boy to flirt with. Perhaps they could even hold hands. She shuddered silently at the idea of physical contact. It had been so long. Over a year. She wondered suddenly if it were possible for down there to stop working. Like her DVD-player had when she hadn’t used it in six months. Encased in dust, the green light had refused to come on. She wondered if her green light would come on again. Ever...
‘I’m sorry. Fiona didn’t mention you had a Masters in Psychology. Because that must be the only reason you assume to know who I am and what I’m thinking.’
‘One would only need a Certificate in Teeth-Brushing to know you have a myriad of issues about this wedding that we can’t even begin to delve into during this short car-ride.’
Incensed, Olivia could barely speak—but she managed to blurt out, ‘At least I haven’t come down with a bad case of My-Life-Is-So-Miserable-I-Want-to-Ruin-It-For-Everyone-Else-itis.’
He laughed out loud then and she turned to the window. He was laughing at her. Making fun of her. Humiliation burned her blood.
He obviously didn’t like her at all. Not even a little bit. When she had attempted to flirt with him the bore had shot her down. He hadn’t even watched her when she’d got naked. No, this annoyingly handsome man had absolutely no interest in her. Which strangely sort of made her feel a little better.
She blinked and unfolded her arms. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about making a fool of herself in front of him. That thought was comforting. She unlaced her legs from the confusing contortions they were now in and let out a breath.
THREE
‘So what do you think of Will and Fi getting married after only eight months?’ she asked tentatively, waiting for his smart remark.
He looked at her for a second, suspicion obvious on his face. ‘Are you trying to get me to say something awful so you can report it back to the bride-to-be?’
‘No, I’m just asking your opinion on whether you think it’s true love.’
‘True love?’ He made a sound that sounded a lot like a snort. ‘What’s that?’
‘It’s what Will is lucky enough to have found with Fi.’
‘I wouldn’t associate the word “lucky” with a man in love. “Dangerous” would be a better word.’
‘You think falling in love is dangerous?’
‘I think falling in love is a fallacy. And any man who thinks he’s in love is definitely in danger.’
Olivia opened her mouth to argue. But she didn’t. Dangerous. That was exactly what falling in love was like. Like surfing in a bikini. Sooner or later someone would see your boobs and you’d be left humiliated, embarrassed and wishing you hadn’t come. Olivia curled an arm instinctively across her chest. No one was going to see her boobs. This weekend was about fun. Cute boys and champagne. There would be no falling in love and no exposed anything.
‘What about you?’ the deep voice in the car murmured. ‘What do you think about their whirlwind romance?’
What did she think? The word devastated popped into her mind, but that wasn’t right. She wasn’t devastated. Her friend was happy. She was happy for her.
She turned to face him. His face in profile was striking. A strong forehead led down to a long, straight nose and his square jaw jutted roughly. He looked manly and rugged, even with that ridiculous knotted scarf around his neck. Olivia felt herself tingle all over, particularly in those regions where the green light had stopped flashing. No. Not this man.
‘I think it’s romantic,’ she said, with a defiant tilt to her chin.
He turned to look at her for just a second and the loveliness of his dark eyes hit her in the chest.
‘I knew it—what you lack in intelligence you obviously make up for in foolishness,’ he said with a mocking smirk.
Olivia turned her eyes away from the irritating man next to her and squared her shoulders. This was one man. There would be more. And probably more handsome men too—although she wasn’t too sure about that. He was pretty damn handsome. But she wasn’t attracted to him and his swoon-worthy eyes. It had just been too long.
She decided she’d refuse to talk to him any longer as her eyes adjusted to the quickly falling darkness outside and a few minutes later the car slowed to a stop. A set of black gates opened automatically in front of them. Large, black, intricately carved iron gates. Flash, she mused absently.
As he drove Olivia focussed on the sound of the gravel crunching underneath the tyres so she didn’t have to think about the silent figure beside her. The atmosphere in the car had turned awkward and Olivia shifted in her seat. A trickle of unease about the weekend ran down her spine.
She looked out of the window. A long line of bare trees either side of the driveway and a heavy layer of fog restricted her view. Edward’s silence continued, as did the strange feeling that this weekend might not go to plan. Olivia felt an urge to tell him to turn around, and she almost did, but then, as they turned the corner, Olivia’s breath caught.
The driveway led to a large circular courtyard and in the middle was an enormous statue of a winged man spurting water from his arrow. Behind him, rising up from the ground like something out of a Nancy Mitford novel, was an enormous stone structure. Dozens of dark windows lined the high stone walls and at either end was a peaked turret. And flying from the peak of each one were flags.
Flags. Like when the Queen was in residence. Actual flags, with something that looked like a lion with wings on them. This wasn’t a house—it was a castle! What was Will? A prince?
Olivia could feel her lips had shaped into an O but she couldn’t stop it. Out of the window she saw they’d passed a pristine lawn that appeared striped, and staring back at her was a peacock, its plumage spread wide in fascinating colours of teal and emerald.
‘Are you joking?’ she whispered to herself as perfectly trimmed topiary trees slowly passed by the car.
‘We never joke,’ came the quiet answer.
With a final crunch of tyres the car pulled up at the front of the house and immediately her car door was pulled open. When Olivia looked out she was faced with a grim-faced tall man dressed in black tie and tails. Complete with a top hat. He reached out a gloved hand to help her out of the car and Olivia finally broke out into uncontrollable giggles.
‘Are you serious?’ she asked him.
Edward had silently exited the car and appeared before her at the doorway of the car.
‘Deadly,’ he said, dismissing the Jeeves character with a nod and reaching out his own hand.
Olivia gripped it. She felt herself fall back and was grateful for the strength of his fingers as he pulled her up and out of the car. She clung to the warmth of his big palm as she stood and finally faced the monolith of a castle Fiona would soon call home.
‘Livvie!’
The next thing she felt was Fiona’s slender arms around her waist, and she smelled the familiar flowery scent of her best friend as she hugged her and—for just a second—made her world seem a little more normal again.
Olivia let go of the big male hand that was still holding her to hug Fiona, who was now clinging to her, her face burrowing into her shoulder. Olivia tried to pull away but Fiona held her tight for another few seconds before releasing her. Tears floated in her best friend’s eyes.
‘Oh, Livvie, I’m so glad you’re here.’
Fiona held her hands hard and Olivia’s nervousness disappeared. She was so glad to see her friend, and from the look on Fiona’s face she was more needed than she’d realised.
Squeezing Fiona’s hand, she smiled. ‘How are you, babe?’
Fiona’s big brown eyes blinked and her smile faltered. ‘I... I’m... It’s...’
Olivia knew that look. Something was wrong. Very wrong. A strange excitement gripped her chest. Had something happened between Fiona and Will? No. That would be bad, and Fiona didn’t deserve her to be thinking like that. She gripped her friend’s hand and turned to Edward. He might as well be of some use if he was just going to stand there like a giant wombat.
‘Can you bring my bags in, Eddie?’ she asked him, before putting her arm around Fiona’s shoulders and walking with her friend up the stone steps and through the stone archway that heralded their arrival into the castle.
* * *
Could he bring her bags in? What did she think he was? Her ladies’ maid? But the man his sister had hired to greet the cars had moved on and he was left out at the front alone.
Edward looked up at the cold stone wall. He hadn’t lived here in over twenty years but it still made him shiver. That last day was burned into his brain. That day was all he thought about when he thought of home. He’d been relieved when he’d returned to boarding school a month after it had happened—glad to get away. But today he had to be here. His mother needed him. She was taking it hard.
‘Another one gone,’ she’d told him on the phone the other day. His temple throbbed again.
With a heavy sigh he heaved the multitude of bags from his car. He grumbled under his breath as the first spots of rain started to fall. A particularly cold droplet hit the back of his neck and wormed its way down his back. He shivered and moved to shake the cold feeling off. The woman was only here for four days—why would she need so much luggage?
It took a few minutes, and his body had started to heat up, but he finally managed to hoist all the bags across and over himself before heaving them into the foyer of his boyhood home. He’d dropped them with a thud when his brother barrelled towards him.
‘Ed, old son. We weren’t sure if you’d make it. So sorry to pull you away from London, but some things are more important than work, aren’t they?’
Edward grunted and slashed a smile across his face. He wasn’t sure he agreed with his brother’s sentiments but he wanted things to go smoothly. For his little brother, for his mother and for everyone else. That was why he was here.
His brother shook his hand vigorously before slinging his arm around the timid little creature he was marrying in two days.
‘We’re so glad you’re here, Edward.’
Her little voice shook. Next to her was Olivia. Dressed in her eye-burning purple sparkles, showing an extreme amount of upper thigh and with eyes that flashed like flints of steel. Her fists were clenched and that glossy, pouty mouth was pursed. For some reason his body went tight and then hard. She had a particularly sexy way of crinkling her forehead when she was cross. And it irritated him that he’d noticed.
‘Your bags,’ he announced, dropping the multi-coloured luggage that remained wrapped around him to the floor.
She didn’t look at them, just kept those blue eyes set on him.
‘I’d like a word with you.’ Her voice held a warning.
He raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t been ordered around like that by anyone in years. Even the Prime Minister asked him politely if he’d mind ever so much if they had a quiet chat.
He almost smiled at her audacity. She turned and walked through the door on the right that led into the drawing room and he watched her go, the ridiculous furry coat barely covering her thighs. Her calf muscles tensed as she clacked in her high heels across the two-hundred-year-old stone floors.
He turned to Will, who just shrugged.
‘We’d better get back to the party, mate. Don’t be long. Bunny’s here with the Blenheim Blowhards. I can’t survive them on my own.’
Edward grimaced. The Blenheim Blowhards were the gang of terrifyingly stupid friends his sister Bunny seemed to drag with her wherever she went. He wasn’t sure why. Bunny had brains—the fools she hung around with had nothing but mash between their ears. He avoided them whenever possible.
A nervous look came over Fiona’s face before Will pulled her away and into the room on the other side of the hall where the party was being held.
Edward contemplated which way to go. He didn’t like being ordered anywhere, and the brash woman in his father’s drawing room didn’t deserve his time. But she certainly sparked his interest. What did she want—and why would she want to talk to him privately?
Intrigued, he followed the mini-skirted Mistress of Intrigue through the door.
FOUR
Olivia threw off her coat and tried to form a coherent sentence in her mind as she waited for Edward. She tried to stay calm, but calm was not something she did well. Particularly not when her best friend had just burst into tears.
‘To what do I owe the pleasure of your exclusive company?’
Edward’s silky voice announced his arrival as he strode into the room. Olivia burned. Who the hell did these people think they were? Edward placed a hand on the floral sofa in front of him and challenged her with his eyes.
‘Believe me, it’s no pleasure. You need to tell your family to back the hell off.’
‘Excuse me?’
Edward raised an eyebrow. Just one. Olivia’s stomach jumped. Angrily she ignored it.
‘Your family are being mean to Fiona and you need to make them stop.’
An irritating smirk slashed across Edward’s square face. ‘They’re being “mean” to her? What is she—in nursery school? Fiona will need to learn to fight if she’s to survive in this family.’
Olivia felt her neck go hot. Being mean to someone for no reason was her pet hate. Actually, her absolute hate. She’d been the victim of mean girls for many years and it had almost broken her. It wasn’t going to happen to her best friend. Not now. Not ever.
‘I don’t know who you lot think you are, but if you and your toffy pals continue to be mean to my friend I will pack our things and leave.’
There. She’d said it. To his snobby face. Be mean to her friend and face the consequences.
* * *
Edward blinked. There was a fire blazing at the end of the room and fire in the eyes of the woman in front of him. He’d shed his coat and scarf but he felt uncomfortably warm.
‘I beg your pardon?’
Olivia paced slowly towards him. Her long, tanned, muscular legs were moving slowly and seductively, and he had to push down the spray of moisture that had just landed in his mouth and cling to the chaise longue in front of him. Her eyes were intent on him and her chin was down. She swayed and sashayed deliberately, without smiling, until she was right in front of him—her head reaching just underneath his chin.
‘I said we will leave.’
But Edward didn’t hear her. All he could concentrate on was her heavy eyelashes and those golden breasts that rose and fell so heavily. He hadn’t seen the full effect of that lurid purple dress before. Her tanned skin glowed against the bright colour in the soft light. She brought her hands up to her hips and he wanted to shift—to move and make himself a little more comfortable—but he didn’t. He just stared down at her, his hands lightly clasped behind his back.
‘You are not obliged to stay. If my family and I are so offensive to you I can call you a taxi. Or perhaps you’d prefer to walk.’
He let his gaze slide across her face and down her neck to take in the jut of her collarbones and that lovely chest of hers. Then he moved his eyes further south, roaming past the curve of her hip, her flat stomach, and down to those long, shapely legs. Strong legs that could wrap around a man’s neck. His eyes lingered on her painted toenails, peeping out from that pair of very high-heeled shoes, and then he drew his eyes back up to meet hers again.
The woman had a body on her. And a sharp tongue. He wasn’t used to that. The women he knew were usually softer, gentler. But there was nothing gentle about Olivia Matthews. She was hard. Fast. And made of ice. He was immediately intrigued.
‘Livvie, are you coming?’ The lilting voice of Fiona called from the doorway.
The femme fatale in front of him dropped her focus and turned to her friend.
‘Come on, Livvie. Will is dying to introduce you to everyone.’ Fiona sounded nervous.
Olivia—or Livvie as her silly friend insisted on calling her—looked back at him, her eyes hard. He smiled again, which seemed to irritate her more as she stepped closer. So close he could smell her. Cinnamon and something sweet. Peaches...
‘I haven’t finished with you.’
‘I shall be awaiting your return with shivering anticipation.’
She huffed again. A sound he found equal parts irritating and charming. Then she turned and left, her little friend pulling on her arm and whispering in her ear.
Edward let a laugh escape. If nothing else, she was fun. Even if she did make his shoulders pull a little tighter. He strode to the fireplace and let it warm him up. The woman was trying, but at least for once he was feeling something. His usual diet of blank nothingness was becoming a little tiresome. Perhaps this weekend wouldn’t be as bad as he’d initially thought. Perhaps it would allow him to feel a little before he headed back to the real world. Grey and dull and solid.
He held that thought up like a beacon, secretly hoping that the grey and dull didn’t take too long to return.
* * *
‘Well, this must be the best friend.’
Olivia had been whisked into a very warm room filled with bodies. A slew of faces and names had passed by her and she remembered none of them. Her blood was still burning from her encounter with the cold man in the other room. Those dark eyes of his had turned hard when she’d threatened him. She suspected he wasn’t used to being stood up to.
Olivia turned to the female voice talking to her and smiled.
‘That’s me.’ She held out her hand for the young woman in front of her to shake. ‘You must be Phoebe.’
Fiona had pointed out Will’s sister when they’d walked in. She wasn’t very tall, but Phoebe Winchester had a presence. Her hair was streaked with blonde, as if she’d just spent two weeks in the Spanish sunshine, and it was casually tied into a knot on top of her head. But somehow it seemed impossibly elegant at the same time. She had dark eyes, like Edward, and a pretty smile revealing a set of white teeth. She looked like a girl you’d want to be friends with.
‘I’ve heard so much about you—Olivia, isn’t it?’ Olivia smiled back but noticed the quick glance Phoebe made at her legs. Phoebe was dressed in a pair of white pants and a gorgeous silk embroidered top. Olivia felt underdressed and a little exposed beside her.