Ellie Darkins

‘So, who do you hate? The bride or the groom?’

Elspeth frowned at the sound of the stranger’s voice behind her. She turned to look and realised that she’d noticed this guy earlier. How could she not? Even among the sea of tartan and kilts he stood out. He was taller and broader than most of the other men filling the Royal Botanic Gardens in Edinburgh, and his red hair had obviously been dragged into some sort of order at the start of the day but had been progressively rebelling ever since.

With her mouth open to tell him to leave, Elspeth realised that the man was already pulling up a chair to sit beside her, man-spreading with a confidence that showed just how comfortable he was in a skirt.

‘Neither, of course,’ she said, faking a smile, conscious that she was only at this wedding for appearances’ sake, and clearly not doing a good enough job of keeping up the appearance of wedding joy.

‘Then why do you look upset?’ her new friend asked, looking at her astutely.

‘Maybe I just have one of those sad faces.’

She wasn’t sure why she’d answered him, given that it wasn’t actually any of his business. She’d been wearing her best corporate fake smile for the best part of six hours, through the most ironically torturous day of her life. What was it to this guy if she’d let it slip for three minutes while everyone else had eyes on the bride and groom’s first dance.

‘Long story,’ she added with a sigh.

She wondered briefly why she hadn’t just shut the conversation down, as she’d originally intended. Perhaps something about the scene playing out in front of her was making her sappy. Or perhaps it was today’s date—the one she’d inked into her diary with a simple ‘my wedding’. Or the fact that this was the venue that she’d booked for her own nuptials. And the flowers were the ones that she’d chosen, and the food was the exact menu she’d tasted for the first time a little under a year ago.

In fact, the whole day had been the wedding that she’d spent a year planning and then had been faced with dismantling when she had split with her fiancé with just six months to go before their big day.

She remembered coming into the office the morning after they’d called it all off, eyes red and skin tight from lack of sleep, to find her boss, Janet, proudly showing off a diamond ring. And it had seemed that before she knew what was happening her boss was offering to take over all Elspeth’s reservations, saving her from losing the deposits, so that she could have a whirlwind wedding.

She’d turned it into more of a circus than Elspeth had intended, of course, chucking in a hundred extra guests and adding a few zeroes to the budget. But her own wedding had been visible enough to sting throughout the day, like little brushes of nettles against her bare arms everywhere she turned.

She couldn’t make herself regret it, though—the cancellation of her wedding or agreeing to the takeover. It made financial sense. Elspeth couldn’t afford to lose the money, so she’d gone along with it, happily in denial about the whole thing until the invitation had arrived and she’d realised that she was expected to attend.

If she hadn’t needed to impress everyone at the GP practice in order to be offered a permanent role when her training post ended she wouldn’t be here. But she needed financial security, and that meant turning up, smiling, and making sure her boss never saw how much she was hating this.

Turned out she’d been doing such a shoddy job that a complete stranger had already rumbled her.

Elspeth took solace in the fact that on her wedding day Janet was hardly going to be paying her much attention. As long as Elspeth appeared in the photos and was mentioned in the inevitable office chat about the event on Monday morning it would hopefully be enough.

But for now she should really get rid of this man. The last thing her misery needed today was company. She just had to get through watching the first dance, and the cutting of her cake, and then she could go home.

A stiff drink was the answer.

She stood and headed to the bar, wondering whether hewould follow her. The sensible part of her—the part of her she usually left in charge—hoped that he wouldn’t. That she could just drown her sorrows in private. But there was something about the mischief in his eyes, something promising trouble, that had her intrigued. That made her want to ignore the part of her brain that had kept her together and her fear at bay for as long as she could remember.

‘So, if you don’t hate either of them, what’s this long story about?’

Elspeth’s stomach swooped at the soft sound of his voice behind her, his presence by her shoulder making her skin tingle in awareness. That answered her question, then. She’d been hoping for more of him.

‘I’m not sure I want talk about it,’ she said, lifting one of the flutes of champagne laid out on trays on the bar and taking a long sip as she turned to him.

He gave her an easy, relaxed smile, grabbing a glass for himself before leaning back against the bar. ‘Well, will you at least let me try and distract you from it?’

Any way he wanted.

Wow, when her mind went there, it really went for it, she realised, as a host of ideas for how they could distract one another flooded her consciousness.

She studied him closely over the rim of her glass. ‘Why would I do that?’

Just because her body was telling her in no uncertain terms what she wanted, that didn’t mean she couldn’t have a little fun with this.

He was still leaning against the bar, the picture of casual insouciance. ‘How about because I’m also here under duress. I hate weddings—and I don’t understand anyone who doesn’t. I thought having an accomplice might be fun.’

Elspeth narrowed her eyes as she looked at him. Really, the only thing she wanted was to get out of here. But, as she couldn’t do that until the formalities were out of the way, perhaps this would pass the time. And then there was the fact that her eyes kept being drawn to the calves exposed beneath his kilt, and to the way his hair was determinedly escaping whatever order it had been dragged into earlier. And the way those green eyes watched her, promising trouble if she wanted it.

‘An accomplice? What exactly are you planning?’ she asked. ‘I could do without being arrested, so if we can keep it just this side of legal… But go for it. Do your worst.’

‘In that case, would you like to dance?’

Elspeth glanced over her shoulder at the dance floor to see that it was filling with guests, joining the bride and groom, who were still wrapped around one another in the centre of the floor.

She laughed. ‘That’s it? That’s your grand plan to distract me from my misery? Dancing in that syrupy mass?’

His eyes flicked to follow her gaze. ‘Fair point. What about we cause a diversion, sneak something from the bar and go explore the gardens instead?’

Elspeth glanced around her and realised the bar was unattended and all eyes were still on the bride and groom on the dance floor. With a quick grin at her accomplice, she reached casually across the bar and snagged a bottle of champagne by the neck, then twisted her arm to hide it behind her back.

‘Okay, so you really went for it. Good for you. I’m Fraser, by the way. I think we should probably be on first-name terms if we’re embarking on a crime spree together.’

She widened her eyes at him in mock innocence. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re referring to. But I think I need some fresh air. Care to join me?’

Elspeth felt a shiver as Fraser draped an arm around her shoulder and tried not to think what anyone watching might be thinking. Maybe it was better that they thought they were sneaking out for a quickie or a snog, than realising that she was sneaking away with a very nice bottle of champagne.

He was using his body to shield the bottle from view, she reminded herself as her own body warmed beneath his touch. That was the only reason for him to be standing so close that it was making the hairs on her arms prickle.

Elspeth stepped out onto the decking and wrapped her arms around herself as the chill of the Scottish evening hit her.

Fraser grabbed a blanket from a pile that had been left in a basket by the door and draped it around her shoulders. She looked up and met his eyes, and only then realised how close they were. The sun was hitting the horizon behind him, making the light on the deck golden and glowing.

At her wedding they’d have been having photos taken now, she remembered. Her ex-fiancé, Alex, was a keen amateur photographer, and had scheduled a number of photography sessions into their day.

She shook off the memory of Alex, and the hurt on his face when she’d finally called time on their engagement. By then he’d known as well as she had that a marriage between them would never work. He’d wanted her to choose. To put him at the top of her priorities, even above her family.

But she was the one who’d actually ended it. Who had said that the compromises he wanted from her weren’t going to happen. That she couldn’t let anyone else take care of her family. That if he wanted to be with her he would have to accept that he would have to share her.

She took a step back from Fraser, breaking the connection between them and walking out across the deck.

‘So, do you want to tell me this long story?’ Fraser asked, following behind her.

‘I thought you were meant to be cheering me up,’ she replied, turning and looking over her shoulder as she reached the railing, leaning on it and looking out over the botanic gardens. ‘Trust me, talking about things isn’t going to be cheery for either of us.’

‘Ah, but we have this to help us,’ Fraser said, slipping an arm beneath the thick woollen blanket he’d wrapped around her and taking the bottle.

He ripped the foil from the neck of the bottle and started untwisting the wire cage around the cork.

Elspeth eyed the bottle. ‘We’ll need more than that.’

Fraser lifted an eyebrow as he twisted the cork, then pressed his thumbs beneath it. ‘Sounds ominous.’

‘Well, let’s just say that today has come with a massive sense of déjà vu. Or future vu, or something weird like that.’

‘You had a vision that you’d be stealing champagne from a free bar with a stranger in a kilt?’

She grinned involuntarily. ‘Yes, this is what I planned for my Saturday night. Attending my own wedding as a guest and stealing the booze.’

‘Your wedding?’

Elspeth let out an ironic laugh, wishing her tongue wasn’t so easily loosened by alcohol. God, maybe she should just say it. Burying it and pretending these feelings didn’t exist wasn’t making the day bearable. Time to try something different.

‘I was meant to be getting married today.’

She stated it baldly, with as little emotion as she could manage, but even she could hear the waver in her voice. Fortunately the cork popped out of the bottle with perfect comic timing, and Fraser directed the spilling white foam into her glass.

‘Well, I wasn’t expecting that,’ he said, slightly flustered, in the classic manner of a man who has just been hit by an emotional confession he hadn’t expected. ‘Quick—drink,’ he added, as the bubbles reached the top of the glass and threatened to spill over.

Elspeth drank, seeing no better course of action, and spluttered slightly at the tickle of the exploding bubbles in her nose. She laughed, fully out loud this time—the first genuine laugh she’d managed all day.

Correlation wasn’t causation, and all that, but maybe Fraser was on to something, encouraging her to talk about what was going on. She did feel a little better. A willing ear from a stranger could be as good as therapy—and cheaper.

‘I was meant to be getting married here, actually,’ she went on. ‘I called it off a few months ago and a couple of days later my boss got engaged. She offered to take over my reservations…save me losing my deposits.’

‘Wow,’ Fraser said, holding the champagne bottle hovering just above his glass, frozen in the second of pouring.

‘You said that already,’ Elspeth remarked, raising her brows as she took another sip of wine, enjoying having him on the back foot.

He had been so cocksure, swaggering up to her, asking her to dance, suggesting they get into trouble together. It felt good to turn the tables: see him lost for words.

‘And you decided you wanted to come because…what? You’re a sadist?’

‘I think that would make me a masochist, actually.’ She dropped the word casually, as if her sudden thought of kinky sex with this gorgeous stranger had had absolutely zero effect on her heart rate. ‘And, no, sorry to disappoint, if that’s your thing, but I’m here because the bride is my boss and I was invited.’

He nodded sagely, thankfully not acknowledging her veiled question abouthis sexual kinks. She wasn’t sure it would be good for her to hear exactly what he was into in the bedroom. Her mind was having plenty of fun making up the details by itself.

‘Some big promotion in the offing?’ Fraser asked, and it took Elspeth a moment to remember what he was talking about.

She took a sip of her drink and nodded. ‘Something like that.’

‘You’re a doctor?’ he said, after clearly searching through his memory banks for the bride’s profession.

‘A GP, yes. Well, a trainee, and hoping for a job when I finish.’

‘Why did you want to be a doctor?’

Elspeth couldn’t remember the last time someone had asked her that. And she didn’t have a good answer. To her, it had never seemed like a choice. All she knew was that it had been a decision made long before she had chosen her exam subjects as a teenager. Probably around the time she had been sitting by her baby sister’s bedside, incapable of doing anything that could help her other than sit there.

She’d trained as a doctor because she wanted to help people like Sarah. Be their advocate in the healthcare system and ensure that every single one of them got the best outcome that they could. Because she had seen the miracles the medical profession could perform. Keeping her sister alive, getting her home, giving her independence with an electric wheelchair and communication aids, among the million other ways it had helped her over the years.

And now Elspeth had the skills and the knowledge she hadn’t had when Sarah was a baby, which meant she could be cared for by her family rather than by strangers. But her care responsibilities meant careful planning for the future, especially given that her mum had been in her forties when Sarah had been born, had arthritis herself, and wasn’t going to be mobile, or even around, for ever.

But that was way more detail than anyone needed to know—especially dangerous-looking men in kilts brandishing bottles of champagne.

‘I liked science and I wanted to help people,’ Elspeth said, giving the standard medical school application answer.

It wasn’t really much of an explanation, but it was all he would be getting. She had watched her relationship with Alex dissolve around her because he hadn’t been able to reconcile family and romance, but she had no desire to go into the details. Perhaps talking about this wasn’t the good idea she’d thought it might be.

‘Anyway,’ she said, keen to change the topic of conversation and shift the attention away from her sorry tale. ‘That’s my story. What’s yours? Why are youhere if it’s so tortuous?’

Fraser shrugged as he leant his forearms against the railing, surveying the gardens in front of them. ‘Nothing so exciting—just family duty. The groom is my mum’s cousin. My mother insisted I be dragged into groomsman duty to make up the numbers even though I hardly know the guy.’

‘Ah, a mummy’s boy,’ Elspeth said with a smile, echoing Fraser’s knowing tone from earlier. ‘Interesting…’

Fraser bumped her shoulder with his and Elspeth held her hands up.

‘Hey, if it sounds like a duck, looks like a duck, and does what Mama Duck says…’

‘Enough—drink your wine,’ he said with a laugh, topping up her glass again. ‘I did not lure you out here to talk about my mother.’

‘Now, that sounds interesting.’

Elspeth looked up at him, pulling the blanket a little tighter around her shoulders, hyper-aware of the scratch of the fabric on her shoulders, the earthy smell of the wool, the barrier it put between her and Fraser.

‘I’m not sure I remember being lured, as such. But what were your motivations if you weren’t thinking about introducing me to your mother?’

Oh, she was sure that asking that question was going to get her into trouble. But that twinkle in his eye, the way he challenged her with his stare, egging her on, had tweaked at something inside her. She wanted to play.

He smiled back at that slight suggestion of innuendo, and she knew that she was right. She’d just got herself into trouble and she couldn’t bring herself to be sorry about it.

‘So you’re saying you’re not the kind of girl I want to take home to meet the parents, huh? Well, that’s good to know. I thought we were going to explore out here. Wasn’t that the plan?’

Elspeth drained her glass and gestured towards the steps down from the decking. ‘Lead on. Where do you want to look first?’

They wandered through the gardens, their shadows long over the lawns, until they came across a gathering of redwood trees: Californian giants, hundreds of feet tall. Beneath their shade, the light was lost completely, and Elspeth realised what a secluded spot they had found.

She leant back against the trunk of one of the trees, feeling small, humbled by the scale of them. As Fraser approached, still swinging the bottle by his side, Elspeth held up her glass like a shield, suddenly aware of the intimacy of their surroundings, how her attraction to Fraser had been bubbling under the surface of their banter since he had first approached her, and how he was looking at her now, like the wolf in a fairy tale.

But she was no innocent Red Riding Hood, and she had no plans to run or hide.

‘Do you think we’ve missed them cutting the cake?’ Elspeth asked, breaking the tension, wondering whether they’d come too far to take their conversation back to something inane and safe.

‘I’m not sure.’ Fraser came closer, topping up her glass, then closer still, so she wouldn’t have been able to lift it to her lips if she’d wanted to. The glass was trapped against her chest, along with her hands and her resolve. ‘Do you care?’

‘Not really.’ The words escaped her before she could stop them, but she couldn’t regret them. Not when they lit a spark in Fraser’s eyes that made the night seem a little less dark.

‘You don’t want to go back?’

Oh, there was so much more to that question, and she could see from the look in his eyes, lit only by the moon, that he knew it.

Surely it was late enough by now that she wouldn’t be missed at the reception? In her plan for the day, that was meant to be her cue to leave. To get home to her mum and her sister. Not to slope off somewhere with a stranger she would probably never see again.

Because if there was one thing she was sure about when it came to this connection she felt to Fraser, it was that it was never going to last more than a night. She had tried balancing a relationship, her work and family commitments before, and it hadn’t been possible. She’d got hurt. Alex had got hurt. And she knew her family had been hurt too, as they’d seen all their hopes for her unpicked and falling away.

But one night with this man—well, that could be something interesting. More and more, it was feeling as if it could be something irresistible.

‘I don’t want to go back,’ she said, looking up to meet his eyes, making sure that he couldn’t mistake her meaning.

She let the tree take her weight, surrendering herself to her decision, to her desire. The champagne glass slipped from her hand and she heard it hit the ground with a soft rustle. With her hands free, she brushed the front of Fraser’s jacket, taking a moment to really feel the fabric, the softness of well-worn wool on her fingertips. From his lapels she stroked upwards, inwards, and heavy fabric gave way to soft cotton.

His eyes never left hers as she reached the studs of his shirt and hooked her fingers into the fabric, pulling him down to her.

‘What do you want?’ Fraser asked, breaking their look at last and glancing down at her hands.

‘I think you know.’

‘Oh, I’ve got a pretty good idea. But I want to hear you say it.’

‘It’s going to be like that, is it?’ Elspeth asked with a shiver, hoping very much that it would be.

He was still looking at her as if he wanted to consume her, and she was good with that. She had too much in her head. Too much in her life. She wanted to be devoured, to devour. To lose herself in her senses, in the present. To be so overwhelmed that she couldn’t think about anything beyond the next second.

She slipped her foot out of her shoe and hooked it around Fraser’s calf, noticing the feel of every hair that slipped beneath the arch of her foot, the line of his calf muscle, taut and defined and bared to the elements.

As she slipped her foot higher, feeling the slide of his skin beneath hers, she couldn’t help imagining what she would find higher still. Wondering whether he was exposed to the elements, to her, beneath that kilt.

With the fingers of one hand still hooked in his shirt, keeping him close, she lifted the other to the back of his neck, feeling the softness of the hair curling at her collar. Meeting his eyes again, she smiled.

‘Enjoying yourself?’ Fraser asked, with a smile just the right side of smug.

‘You know I am,’ she murmured, dropping her eyes to his mouth and finding herself unable to look away from it.

She licked her lips, and watched as his mouth curved into a knowing, confident smile.

‘Good. Don’t stop.’

She had absolutely no intention of stopping. Gripping the front of his shirt tighter, she twisted the fabric between her fingers as she pulled him down to her. She held her breath as she closed her eyes, stretching up on tiptoes until at last her lips brushed against his. Sensation exploded at the touch of his warm mouth and she let out a quiet moan, revelling in every physical sensation assaulting her body.

In the press of hard wood and soft woollen blanket behind her, the creased cotton and tweed in front. The curling hair and soft skin beneath her hand. And the uninhibited mouth on hers. Tasting her, tempting her. Teasing her with its tongue and its lips.

Fraser’s arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her away from the tree into his solid chest. Elspeth let her lips trace the line of his jaw until she was close enough to whisper in his ear.

‘Let’s go.’

*

Fraser woke to the sensation of silk sheets beneath his body and a warm summer breeze caressing his back. And soft, soft lips pressing against his.

Elspeth.

With his eyes still closed, he wound fingers into her hair, cupped his other hand around her cheek and kissed her lazily, slowly remembering the night before. He pulled her down on top of him, but she stiffened, drawing away until his body and his bed felt cold.

‘Bye, Fraser.’

He lifted his head and blinked his eyes at the sound of high heels on deep carpet, heading towards the door, and it was only in the dawn light creeping round the edge of the curtains that he saw Elspeth’s face.

‘Bye.’

He croaked out the word and then fell back on the pillow as the door closed behind her.

He didn’t have her number.

The thought occurred to him and then he was sitting up without realising he’d decided to, and he had a foot out of the bed before he’d thought about what he was doing. Before he stopped himself, as he always had before.

No strings. They’d never actually said the words last night, but it had been clear enough in the way they had been with each other. Well, if he’d had any doubt she’d just proved it by walking out with barely a kiss goodbye.

For a fraction of a second he wondered if he could catch her before the lift reached their floor, but that summer breeze brushed him again, colder this time, and he realised what he was thinking.

He didn’t do relationships. He’d seen when he had still been barely more than a child the harm they could do. What happened to people and their lives when they followed their desires rather than making sensible, objective decisions.

He’d sworn that he wouldn’t make the same mistakes. Just the fact that he was even thinking of acting on a whim now was all the proof he needed that it would be a bad idea. Of all the women he might have a second date with, the one who was making him question all his carefully set ground rules was not the one to try it with.

He collapsed back, letting his arm fall over his eyes as he remembered falling into this same bed last night, with Elspeth pulling at his clothes and her body warm and supple beneath him.

Last night wasn’t going to be easy to forget. She wasn’t going to be easy to forget.

  

• Text Copyright © 2019 by Ellie Darkins
• Cover Art Copyright © 2019 by Harlequin Enterprises Limited
• Permission to reproduce text granted by Harlequin Books S.A. Cover art used by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises Limited. All rights reserved.