Chapter Forty-One
He stopped. Closed his eyes in frustration. ‘No family is that understanding.’
‘Not really,’ she agreed, regretfully.
He sank back to the stairs, managing to land her on his lap. ‘We ought to do things the right way.’ A huge, long-suffering sigh, pausing for one more lingering kiss. She met his mouth, hungry for the heat of his velvet tongue on hers, her heart beating.
‘Family,’ she reminded him, on a breath.
He groaned into her neck. ‘You’re going to have to get off my lap for several minutes before I’m fit to meet them.’
When Honor finally stepped out into the backyard with Martyn, she felt incredibly self-conscious at the silence that broke as the screen door clicked shut.
Garvin paused mid-sentence, barbecue fork in hand. Karen set down a stack of plates. Jess and Zach looked up from the page of the newspaper they were arguing over. Four pairs of eyes fixed on Honor, then switched to Martyn. Then dropped to where Honor and Martyn’s hands were clasped together.
Garvin gripped the barbecue fork and narrowed his eyes.
Honor cleared her throat. ‘This, um, this is Martyn Mayfair, everybody. We’ve . . .’ She ground to a halt.
Before so many silent stares and faces written with questions, Honor’s cheeks grew hotter and hotter. ‘Dad,’ she blurted, ‘Did I tell you that I’m going to need to get a divorce? ’
Slowly, deliberately, Garvin stowed his fork on the barbecue rack. Then he turned back and his eyes were twinkling, though his voice was grave. ‘Would you like some help with that?’
‘Yes, please.’ She cast around for words. ‘I already, um, arranged for Stef to sign the papers.’
‘Good.’ Garvin’s eyebrows lifted. ‘I kind of guessed it was Stef you weren’t ready to talk about, and I’ve been waiting for you to come to me for help in dealing with him. But I should have known you’d find your own way.’
Honor glanced sideways at Martyn. ‘I had incentive.’
Slowly, Garvin’s face creased into a smile. ‘You’d better bring him over here so that I can meet him.’
And then everyone was laughing as Martyn shook their hands and Garvin threw extra chicken on the grill and Karen fetched another plate. For the first time in an age Honor felt absolutely, absurdly happy. Each time she looked at Martyn he turned and looked at her. And he smiled. A dark, handsome, full-on smile that made her wonder why the advertisers all demanded Martyn Mayfair wore a glower when his smile could make hearts dance. He sat right down with her family and let them get to know him, telling them about his career, making them laugh about how Honor had thought that he was unemployed. Garvin scrutinised him keenly, but smiled and seemed to like what he saw.
Jessamine leaned over and touched Martyn’s arm. ‘You know, when I was little, Honor used to tell me bedtime stories about how she was going to marry an English prince and live in a castle.’
‘ Jess-sseeee! ’ hissed Honor, boiling with horror. ‘How could you drag that stupid kid stuff up now ?’
‘But aren’t the British princes all spoken for?’ put in Zach, grinning at his big sister’s discomfort.
Jessie agreed. ‘Of course — if not spoken for then too old or too young for Honor. So I guess a model’s not too bad. And I always thought that the English accent is to die for.’ She beamed at Martyn. ‘I think you’ll do nicely for Honor.’
‘Hey, not so fast — you haven’t interrogated him about the castle,’ protested Zach. ‘Remember, Honor really likes castles. It could be a dealbreaker.’
Martyn didn’t seem to mind how much teasing he got or how long the Lefevre family gathering went on, as long as he could pull his chair close to Honor’s and hold her hand. Only his eyes spoke to her and her alone. Making promises that made her shiver as a casual finger swept up the soft skin of her arm, as intimate as a kiss.
Finally, the others began to make their plans for the evening. To make sure that they didn’t somehow end up dragged off on a family trip to the movies, Honor walked Martyn to the stream that ran right out to the lake, through the wildflowers in the long grass, carefully far away from the picnic areas, where Honor might see someone she knew and have to make polite conversation. All she wanted was Martyn, to herself.
‘So,’ she said, when they’d found a place to sit and watch the water, sparkling in the afternoon sun but small and trickling compared to the restless English ocean that she’d grown so used to. ‘At least you seem able to get along with the non-flaky side of my family.’
He touched her ear with his lips, making her shiver. ‘They love you very much. So we have plenty in common.’
She turned and drowned in his eyes. ‘I’m incredibly happy.’
His smile was slow. And hot. ‘Jessie said that I was the one who could make you happy. But I’m sorry about not having a castle.’ He picked up her hand and began to kiss each fingertip.
She closed her eyes and groaned. ‘I could have died when she came out with all that stupid teenage dream stuff.’
He stopped kissing her hand and just held it very tightly. ‘I’m really not sure you’d like living in a castle. They seem cold and inconvenient. And what if you decide you want to live in America? Just . . .’ He swallowed. ‘I would like you to marry me.’
Her eyes flew to his, so dark and intense, and her breath hurried from her lungs. ‘If I was married to you, I think I’d be very happy living in an apartment in Starboard Walk,’ she said, softly. ‘And maybe I could get to work in a castle?’
He pulled her close, closer, limb against limb. ‘We could always get married in one.’
She tried to pull away, to see his face. ‘Seriously? People do that?’
‘Of course. Get married, have the reception, stay for the whole weekend. The only thing is . . .’ He looked suddenly rueful.
She waited, dreading some disappointment that was going to come along and spoil things for her. ‘What?’ she whispered, eventually.
His kissed her lips. ‘I’m no prince.’