Confessions of a Bad Bridesmaid (2 page)

‘Don’t look,’ she said.

This, of course, meant that now all he wanted to do was look. But he kept his eyes on the road. He could control himself even if she was... Good Lord, was that a
breast
?

TWO

Not even sneaking
a peek, thought Olivia as she slipped her tight trousers off and slid her thermal singlet up over her head. With a tug she pulled the dress down over her head. It, too, was tight but with an extra-hard tug it slipped over her.

She dared a glance in the rear-vision mirror, wondering if she’d caught his dark eyes flicking her way. But he was facing the front. Prude. He probably turned the lights out during sex. Which in her experience was almost as bad as a sleazy lout with wandering hands.

She’d known them all. The funny ones—egotistical—the stupid ones—selfish—the pretty ones—unfaithful—and the shy ones—bad in bed. Unfortunately none had lasted longer than three weeks. The brutal truth was that Olivia was convinced she was undateable. But that was all ending this weekend. False eyelashes, a week’s worth of tanning on Bondi and a bag full of sparkly short dresses meant this weekend she was going to make an impression.

Olivia pulled her make-up bag with her into the front seat and Edward made a disapproving harrumph. Like an old woman.

‘Haven’t you got enough of that on already?’ he enquired rudely. She noticed his fists were white on the steering wheel. Angry, impatient and disapproving. Usually she charmed people when she first met them. For the first five minutes. Then, of course, they quickly lost interest. But his disinterest had taken hold a lot more quickly than normal. She wasn’t sure why, but that idea made her stomach knot up tight. How ridiculous. As if a man like him would ever be interested in someone like her anyway.

‘It’s these finishing touches that take a girl from drab to dazzling. You’ll see.’

She felt his eyes on her and ignored them. He was probably thinking that no amount of make-up could do that, and he’d be right. The truth was she was the younger, less attractive sister and the least pretty of all her friends. She’d made peace with that fact years ago, but a layer of peroxide through her naturally mousy hair and plenty of make-up made her feel much better—and this weekend she wanted to feel good. But his disapproving glances were having the opposite effect.

‘What’s wrong? Do I have something in my teeth? Or is one of my nipples out?’ She lifted her hands to her dress and shifted the bodice, making sure the girls were where they should be. She might not have the face to compete with her friends, but she was happy with her body. Hours at the gym and pounding the pavement meant she was solid muscle. Her body she could control.

* * *

Edward’s throat went thick. She was using her hands to move her breasts and the mounds of them above the line of the dress rose and fell. It was very distracting. Didn’t she realise he was trying to drive? She swathed more lipstick over her already wet lips and sucked them in, spreading the gloss over them.

Olivia Matthews was the sort of woman he took pains to avoid. Vacuous women whose only purpose in life was to supply a young, attractive female body for B-list actors and middle-aged European billionaires to fondle at parties. All high heels and lip gloss. Those women were not his type.
She
was definitely not his type. Although they were terribly exciting to look at.
She
was terribly exciting to look at. And why shouldn’t he look? She was making such a show of it; it would be damned bad manners not to notice.

‘Your nipples are fine, as far as I can see.’

That earned him a wry side-glance. Unexpectedly, the sight of her big eyes—which he could now determine were ice-blue—swivelling his way made his gut clench a little tighter, which irritated him. The weekend was going to be bad enough without this little vixen distracting him. He turned to the road, concentrating on the ice and the precarious turns he knew were coming up.

She went back to the mirror, adding more make-up and swiping at non-existent pieces of fluff on her chin.

‘So, is this a party-party tonight, or just an awkward get-together with unattractive single cousins and judgemental aunts?’

Edward snorted. ‘My family’s reputation obviously precedes them.’

‘Does that mean they’ll all be as charming as you, then?’ She snapped the lid on her lipstick and looked at him.

Edward raised his eyebrows at her sarcastic tone but kept his eyes on the road. The woman seemed to say whatever came into that air-filled head of hers without worrying about consequences. Didn’t she know life was all about consequences?

‘My family will all be there for Will and his fiancée. I apologise if we hadn’t given much thought to your need for a wild weekend of sex, drugs and rock and roll.’ He wondered if he’d offended her. He hoped so—perhaps now she would behave herself.

‘What? No sex or drugs? This really will be a dull weekend.’

Her tone was crisp. Now she was really annoyed. Edward’s mouth twitched. He didn’t want it to. But her refusal to be intimidated amused him for some reason. Who
was
this girl?

A minute’s frosty silence followed her angry outburst. Edward bit his tongue. Tonight he’d have to keep an eye on his unstable mother as well as shepherding his pernicious sister away from the bride-to-be. That was going to be hard enough. His sister had taken a dislike to Fiona—labelling her coarse and insipid. And Australian. Which was reason enough to bring back transportation, according to his sister.

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.