EPILOGUE
EPILOGUE
‘Y OU LOOK LIKE a dream.’
With a gasp, Clemmie spun round, the ivory silk of her dress swishing around her. Her breath caught as Joaquin’s hot stare pinned her to the spot.
Joaquin—who was looking quite breathtakingly handsome in an impeccable dress suit—had materialised as if by magic in the bedroom that they shared.
Or had shared until last night.
‘Where did you come from?’ she asked.
Joaquin grinned. ‘Don’t you mean how did I get past the army of people downstairs?’ He tapped the side of his nose and said mysteriously. ‘I have my ways.’
‘Not an army. Just the florists, the caterers and the string quartet. I hope they have arrived?’
‘Either that or someone is being mean to a cat.’
‘And—’
‘All right, I get the idea. A large contingent of essential persons... You are so pedantic. Though I am not sure why they are deemed essential .’
‘We agreed.’
He conceded this with a deep sigh. ‘You caught me in a weak moment—namely flat on my back in bed—when you had me at your mercy. You took advantage of me.’
She gasped in mock outrage at the claim, but actually she quite liked the idea of taking advantage of this gorgeous man...often by invitation.
‘The power of having me at your mercy has turned you into a monster, Clemmie. A beautiful monster,’ he conceded, his prowling gaze taking in the full glory of her dress.
‘I didn’t see you complaining.’
‘Granted.’
The wicked glitter in his eyes faded as he reached for her hand and pressed it to his chest. She felt the heavy vibration of his heartbeat and felt a tidal wave of hot emotion flow through her.
She loved this man to distraction, and it seemed a miracle that he loved her right back. The knowledge had a healing quality. She still felt wistful when she thought of her twin, but she no longer felt guilty. She really believed that she carried Chrissie in her heart, and she certainly had enough joy for two.
‘This is the only essential thing,’ he said, his deep voice thick and husky with emotion. ‘Just you and me.’
Clemmie blinked away the sting of tears. ‘Don’t make me cry. This make-up took me hours.’
Her determination not to take advantage of a professional make-up artist and hairdresser for today had been a point of contention with her mother and the wedding planner, but Clemmie had stood her ground.
It seemed to her that over the last few weeks she had been one of the only people there who understood the meaning of a simple country wedding.
She was prepared to let other people share the day, but it was not about looking like some perfect person who wasn’t her.
‘“Natural” is very popular at the moment,’ the wedding planner had agreed, when she’d realised her client was not for budging. ‘But it’s the hardest thing to pull off.’
Clemmie liked to think she had pulled it off.
She leaned into his long, lingering kiss.
‘Better?’ he asked, when they finally pulled apart. His glance slid to the tiny pearl buttons down the front of her bodice. ‘Well, they’ll be a challenge.’
‘And we both know you love a challenge. Do I look as stressed as I feel?’
‘It’s not too late to elope,’ he said, a smile glimmering in his eyes.
‘We have been through this. Let people have this day. We have the rest of our lives together.’
Before he could react to this emotional statement her gaze went past him to the fluttering drapes and her eyes widened in comprehension.
‘You actually climbed in through the window?’ She gasped, thinking of the fifty-foot drop below the window.
He brushed a twig off his lapel and gave an irrepressible grin.
‘And after being forbidden to do so on pain of bringing down dire cosmic retribution on our heads. Apparently, it is unlucky to see the bride in her dress before the wedding—did you know that?’
‘Everyone knows that.’
‘I am not superstitious. The window seemed the obvious solution to my being denied access to you.’
‘Obvious? Only to a mad person,’ she retorted, fighting back a grin as she clicked her tongue with mock severity. ‘You can’t climb through bedroom windows on your wedding day. And why...? There are doors. And I have never known you not to do something because it was forbidden before.’
‘I thought you’d consider it a romantic gesture,’ he admitted. ‘Have I not earned a few brownie points?’
‘It is not romantic to break your bones on your wedding day.’
‘I had no intention of falling.’
She laughed.
Joaquin didn’t laugh. His expression was brooding and intent, almost like a man in pain, as he stared at her.
‘God, but you look beautiful!’ he said, his voice smoky with emotion. ‘I was persuaded to spend last night away from you against my better judgement, and I wanted... I needed to see you. I never want us to spend another night apart.’
The possessive warmth glowing in his eyes made her light up inside. ‘I’m not sure how practical that will be,’ she said lovingly. ‘But I missed you last night too... Today has been...’ She grabbed her hair in both hands. ‘Look!’
‘Gorgeous!’
‘No, not gorgeous! Awful! Every time I practised putting it up it worked, and today...’
‘Wear it loose. I like—All right,’ he added quickly, when he recognised the signs of an imminent meltdown. ‘Let me,’ he heard himself offer recklessly.
‘You?’
Sitting on the stool in front of the dressing table mirror, she discovered there was something almost hypnotic about watching his hands running through her hair, his elegant fingers massaging her scalp.
It was ten minutes later when he spoke. ‘More relaxed?’
She opened eyes that had drifted closed. Her hair was still loose but, yes, she was relaxed, she realised.
Even though she probably shouldn’t be.
‘I am,’ she admitted, meeting his eyes. She shivered as his fingertips grazed her neck and he pushed her hair to one side to kiss her neck. ‘Mmm... I should be getting... Joaquin... You can’t...’
But of course he could.
He could always transform her into a helpless bundle of inarticulate longing.
They had reached the bed, and Joaquin was straddled across her, when the door opened.
‘Oh, my God! Your dress...your hair! You should be ready, not...not...’
‘Sorry, Mum, he was just leaving.’
Clemmie pushed at Joaquin, who did not look abashed as he sat on the side of the bed and straightened his tie.
‘You look very happy, darling.’
‘I am, Mum.’
‘Harry and I have been discussing our next step, and we have decided there is no hurry for our wedding. I intend to stay in Yorkshire with him—at least until he has sorted through his mother’s house and belongings. But I have told him that when you have children—no matter when that is—we will move back to the gatehouse. I want to be a very involved grandparent.’
Resisting the temptation to press her hands to her still-flat stomach, Clemmie smiled. She had only known for twenty-four hours, and for the moment she was hugging the news to herself.
News that would be her wedding present to Joaquin.
‘That sounds like a plan. Now, my hair, Mum... Any ideas? At least we don’t have to worry about rain, or the wind blowing my veil away.’
When the guest numbers had grown, the village church had been substituted for the great hall in the manor—the only space big enough to accommodate everyone and the masses of flowers that filled every corner of the house. After the ceremony the plan was for everyone to transfer to the marquees that had been set up in the grounds.
When Clemmie walked down the aisle, her mind was not on her hair—which had been arranged in a half-up, half-down style, the half-up part supporting an antique veil—her attention was totally focused on the man who stood waiting for her...
‘Did that really just happen?’ she whispered after the ceremony, as they walked hand in hand past the smiling guests.
‘Don’t tell me you’ve lost your memory again? Sorry, that’s not funny,’ he added with a wince. ‘You’re wearing your wedding present, I see,’ he went on.
Clemmie touched the diamond studs that glittered through the strands of hair floating around her face.
‘And I’m wearing my wedding gift to you.... Well, sort of...’
He looked down at her, bemused, and she watched comprehension dawning as she held his eyes and pressed both hands to her stomach.
‘Really? ’ he said, sounding stunned.
She nodded, seeing joy, fear and awe flash through his eyes. The same emotions that she had felt when she had looked at her positive pregnancy test.
‘I only did the test yesterday. It’s still sinking in. Do you like your present, Joaquin?’
‘I love my present—and I love you!’
Behind them the guests’ cameras clicked, recording the couple kissing under the flower-bedecked stone arch as if they were alone in their own world.