The Thorn in His Side (19 page)

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Authors: Kim Lawrence

BOOK: The Thorn in His Side
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Her outspoken friend had not minced her words when Libby had said with regret that the deceptively simple cream gown was far too expensive.

‘Too expensive!’ she’d hooted derisively. ‘Give me a break, Libby!’

‘This isn’t going to be a big wedding, Susie.’ Rafael had at her request scaled back his plans when she had said she hadn’t wanted the day to be too big and impersonal.

‘What has size got to do with it? You want to knock his socks off, don’t you?’ She’d sensed Libby wavering and pushed home her advantage. ‘In that dress it is job done. Unless of course he’s short of cash, is he?’

‘No, but—’

‘But nothing, you’re marrying a billionaire who is utterly besotted with you. What did you think he had in mind when he flies us over to Paris in a private jet—that you rummage through the charity shops for a bargain?’

She had waved a hand towards the rail of couture wedding gowns that had been produced when the style consultant who had met them at the airport had dropped the bridegroom’s name.

‘No, of course not, but there are some really nice ones that don’t cost—’

‘You don’t expect eighty metres of hand-embroidered Paris couture to come cheap,’ Susie had pointed out.

When Libby had continued to hesitate she had planted her hands on Libby’s shoulders and steered her back to the mirror. ‘Is that perfect or is it perfect?’

‘Phoebe thinks that the—’

‘Do you want to be dressed by a fashion consultant?’

‘It is perfect, isn’t it?’

It had been and it still was, Libby admitted, turning to see the effect of the elegant train when she moved. The long tendrils left free of the simple knot of curls on her head brushed softly against her cheek as she moved.

With one last smiling look at the girl in the mirror she turned and walked into the other room.

‘Drum roll,’ she cried, striking a pose. ‘What do you think?’

The two women stopped talking and turned in unison. When neither said a word a flicker of uncertainty appeared in Libby’s face.

‘I thought I looked
quite
nice?’ She tried to hide her bitter disappointment behind a rueful smile. She really
had hoped for slightly more positive feedback than this. ‘You think I should have gone with the hair down?’

Libby expected a response to her question but not this one. Her eyes widened in astonishment when her maid of honour Chloe suddenly burst into tears and even tough cookie Susie’s eyes looked suspiciously moist as she let out a silent whistle and said with feeling, ‘He’s going to think he’s died and gone to
heaven when he sees you!’

‘Oh, Libby,’ Chloe said, dabbing her eyes. ‘You look fabulous … like a sexy angel. Oh, no, is my mascara running?’

‘Don’t worry, it’s waterproof,’ Libby said, her ego boosted by this ringing endorsement. ‘Angels don’t have ginger hair,’ she joked.

‘That tiara is fantastic,’ Susie, pretty in soft pink, enthused as she tilted her head to get a better look at the pearls and diamonds that glittered against Libby’s auburn hair. ‘Well, this is it, kid,’ she said softly. ‘You ready for this?’

Libby took a deep breath. ‘I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life,’ she said simply.

A knock on the door heralded the arrival of Chloe’s husband, who had stepped up to the mark when requested to walk her down the aisle.

‘Why, Joseph,’ Libby teased. ‘You scrub up really well.’

Joe grinned and touched his slicked-back hair. ‘I feel like a total prat,’ he admitted, stretching out an arm for Libby. ‘But I’m guessing no one is going to be looking at me. You look very beautiful. You all do.’

‘Good recovery, Joe,’ his wife murmured, handing Libby the bouquet of stephanotis and white roses. She
smoothed down the velvet ribbon bound around the stems and stood back to see the full effect.

‘Perfect.’

Her heart was beating fast as they approached the open doors of the ballroom where the guests were seated. A few feet short of the door Joe paused; she looked at him questioningly when a figure stepped out from behind a pillar.

‘Dad!’

Her father smiled, and nodded to Joe, who stepped back smiling.

‘Libby, my dear, you look stunning.’

‘You came. I can’t start crying now—it’ll ruin my make-up.’

Chloe produced a tissue and Libby accepted it with a watery grin.

‘I doubt if the bridegroom would care. I think that man would do anything for you, Libby. He made us see sense and I’m grateful to him for it.’

‘And I’d do anything for him,’ she admitted without hesitation. ‘Is Mum …?’

‘Everyone is here, Libby.’

The wedding march music struck up and Libby experienced a moment’s panic until her father’s hand tightened on her arm and Chloe, ever practical, held out her hand for the used tissue.

Behind her Libby heard Susie say, ‘Camera, lights, action, you’re on, Libby!’

Libby smiled at her father and walked towards the open doors. Heads turned as she entered, including those of her family. Libby smiled at them, then turned her attention to the tall figure waiting for her.

Their eyes connected and for Libby the rest of the
room vanished; her eyes shone with the love that filled her eyes with tears as she walked towards him.

Later several people commented on how serene and calm the beautiful bride had sounded when she delivered her vows, while a few mentioned with knowing smiles the emotional tremor in the groom’s voice and the glow of fierce pride in his eyes as he slid the ring onto his beautiful bride’s finger. All were in agreement that the simple ceremony had been wonderful and the couple were stunning.

Before the wedding breakfast Libby had a few moments alone with her family. It was a very emotional reunion. She did not question their sudden decision to attend but she had her suspicions.

She challenged Rafael when they stole a moment together away from their guests.

‘I know you had something to do with them being here.’

His enigmatic smile gave nothing away.

‘I don’t know how you did it, but thank you, Rafael.’ She reached up and pressed a kiss to his lips.

Her glowing smile made Rafael feel dizzy. For the hundredth time that day he told himself he was the luckiest man alive. ‘I would like to take the credit, but I did have help. Meg has been my ally in this. She has been working on the inside, so to speak.’

‘Bless her,’ Libby said fondly.

‘My role was to charm them into submission.’

‘Typecasting, but you must have been very charming.’

Rafael bared his teeth in a rueful grin. ‘Actually things did not go strictly to plan. You’d looked so unhappy when I left that morning. I know you said you
just felt a bit queasy but I knew you were thinking about your family.

‘All the way down there I couldn’t get your little face out of my head so instead of being conciliating I was quite angry, but as it happens tough love worked so I am the hero of the piece. If not I would have been the villain.’

‘When you say tough love …?’ she asked, amused by his candour.

‘I said that they could be as angry with me as they wished, but that I would not tolerate them making you unhappy and by doing so they were effectively losing the chance to be part of their future grandchildren’s lives.’

‘Funny you should say that …’

Rafael arched a brow.

‘The grandchildren part.’

He sighed, but appeared philosophical when he said, ‘You are annoyed with me—you think I went too far?’

‘No, it’s not that. You see, I really was sick that morning, and then yesterday when I was with Chloe I … well, I said it was nerves but she … well, she gave me a testing kit and I used it.’

Rafael, who had struggled to follow this rambling narrative, shook his head. ‘I do not follow.’

Libby sighed. ‘A pregnancy-testing kit.’

She watched the comprehension spread across his face; he looked stunned. ‘You are pregnant.’ His eyes fell to her slim waist.

She met his eyes and nodded.

Libby felt a surge of relief when she saw the smile in his marvellous eyes. ‘I am going to be a father.’

‘Not for another eight months,’ she warned. ‘Time to get used to the idea?’

His golden eyes skimmed her upturned features. ‘Libby,’ he chided, stroking her cheek with a loving finger. ‘You were not sure if I’d be pleased?’

‘Well, it wasn’t something we planned …’

‘I didn’t plan to fall in love. I didn’t plan to marry.’ He gave a fierce smile that made her pulse leap and pressed a kiss to her lips. ‘I do plan to love this baby and cherish him just as I cherish his mother.’

The raw sincerity in his voice made her eyes fill with emotional tears. ‘Hormones,’ she sniffed.

‘You are adorable,’ he said, kissing the tip of her pink nose. ‘And very beautiful. Our baby will be—’

‘About the baby, Rafael,’ she said, catching his arm. ‘As it’s early days and sometimes things happen … do you mind if we don’t tell anyone else just yet?’

Rafael studied her face and felt a soul-piercing stab of tenderness. He knew only time would banish the doubts he saw in her eyes. ‘It will be our little secret,’ he agreed, laying a hand on her stomach.

‘Not much of a secret if you do that in front of people.’ Despite her complaint she did not try to move his hand. She liked the feel of it there; it made her feel safe and loved.

As they strolled back to their guests a little while later Rafael looked up at the grand building. ‘So this place—you like it?’ he said casually.

‘It’s beautiful. We could actually have spent our honeymoon here, not that I’m complaining,’ she
added quickly, anxious to reassure Rafael that the effort he had gone to to make their honeymoon special was appreciated. ‘Who would? A month on our own desert island!
No shoes, no suits.’ Libby slid a smiling look at the man beside her, who was looking rather magnificent in his.

Rafael, who had been looking thoughtful, added, ‘No clothes.’

An image of her gorgeous husband striding along a sun-kissed beach stark naked flashed into her head and Libby blushed.

‘Well, I suppose if it’s private …?’

‘Oh, it is private,
querida.
I have no intention of sharing you with anyone. I am glad you like it here. I was hoping you would when I bought it.’

Libby’s jaw dropped. ‘You what?’

‘I bought the estate. This,’ he said with a gesture that took in the rolling parkland, ‘is your wedding gift. It is in reasonably good condition though, obviously,’ he conceded, ‘you will wish to make some changes decor-wise and so forth, put your own stamp it.’

‘You’re serious.’

‘I wanted a home to bring you back to. A home is something I have never had before, something I never expected to have.’

‘God, I’m going to cry again. I love the house,’ she promised. ‘But I’d love a tent if you were in it. Oh, God,’ she said, taking the tissue he offered. ‘I just love you!’ she cried.

Rafael took his time to convince her that her feelings were very reciprocated.

All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises II BV/S.à.r.l. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be
reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

®
and TM are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with
®
are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

First published in Great Britain 2011 by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited, Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

© Kim Lawrence 2011

ISBN: 978-1-408-92593-5

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