the mat when Gemma Craven went downstairs on Saturday morning. She frowned as she picked it up. The post usually didn’t arrive until lunchtime, so it was a surprise to see it lying there at this hour of the day.
Her frown deepened when she turned the envelope over and discovered that there was no stamp or address on it, just her name. Ripping open the flap, she took out the single sheet of paper it contained, feeling her heart leap into her throat as she tried to make sense of what it said. It was from Heather, telling her that the wedding had been called off.
Gemma sank down onto the stairs in a state of shock. Was it true? Had Heather really decided not to marry Ross? She couldn’t imagine why her friend would have done such a thing, but there was no doubt that the signature on the bottom of the letter was Heather’s. What on earth had happened to make Heather do such a thing?
Scrambling to her feet, she hurried to the phone and dialled Heather’s home number, but there was no answer even though she let it ring a dozen times. She tried her friend’s mobile phone next but the call went straight through to voice mail. She left a brief message, letting Heather know she was worried about her and asking her to call back, and hung up. She wasn’t sure what she should do now. The arrangement had been that she would go round to Heather’s home to help her get ready. As the chief and only bridesmaid, Gemma’s job was to attend to the bride, but if there was no wedding then her services were no longer needed. However, she couldn’t sit at home, wondering what had happened. She had to find out what had gone on, and why Heather had decided not to marry Ross.
Gemma’s heart lurched as a picture of Ross Mackenzie suddenly appeared in her mind’s eye. The saying about tall, dark and handsome could have been coined for him. At a little over six feet in height, Ross was tall enough to stand out in a crowd and that was before you added in all the rest. With his black hair and cobalt-blue eyes, he drew admiring glances wherever he went. His features were both attractive and very masculine—a strong chin, chiselled lips, a straight nose. He played tennis in the summer and skied in the winter and his body definitely bore testament to the benefits of all that exercise. His whole bearing was that of a man in command of his life. Ross knew what he wanted and he got it, too. He’d wanted Heather to be his wife so what had gone wrong?
Gemma ran back upstairs to her bedroom. Scooping up the armful of clean clothes she’d left over the back of a chair the night before, she hurried into the bathroom. She couldn’t explain the urgency she felt to see Heather. All she knew was that she had to make her friend understand what a mistake she was making. Most women would give their right arm to marry Ross, yet Heather had thrown away her chance of happiness.
Ten minutes later Gemma left the house, shivering as the chill of a frosty December morning hit her. She hurried to her car, groaning when she discovered the windscreen was covered with ice. She wasted another couple of minutes clearing it away and her fingers were frozen solid by then, the tips of them turning pink with cold.
She slid into the driving seat, cranking up the heater to its highest setting, not that there was much hope of any warmth just yet. Still, at least it provided her with the illusion that she might soon start to defrost, although maybe the chill she felt didn’t stem solely from the weather. It was the thought of how upset Ross must be that was making her feel so cold. He must be devastated—completely devastated!
Gemma’s breath caught on a sob but she forced it down as she headed towards the centre of Dalverston. Heather lived with her father on the far side of the town and Gemma had to brave the traffic to get there. Normally, at this time on a Saturday morning the roads would have been fairly clear, but with Christmas a couple of weeks away, there was already a build-up of cars and that delayed her. By the time she reached the house, she was so tense that she was trembling. She parked in the drive then hurried to the front door and rang the bell. Matthew Thompson, Heather’s father, greeted her with a weary smile.
‘I take it that Heather’s told you she’s called off the wedding?’
‘She pushed a note through my door. I found it on the mat this morning when I got up.’
Gemma followed him into the house, shivering appreciatively as a blast of warm air hit her. Matthew led the way to the kitchen, obviously expecting her to follow him. Picking up the teapot, he offered it to her and she nodded.
‘Please.’
He poured them both a cup of tea and placed them on the table by the window. Gemma frowned when she saw that his hands were shaking. Heather’s decision to cancel her wedding must have been a shock for her father too.
‘Did Heather say why she’s decided not to marry Ross?’ Gemma asked as they sat down.
‘No. She just said that she’d realised it would be a mistake.’
Matt’s whole bearing seemed to have altered overnight; he appeared years older that morning. It was upsetting to see him looking this way when Gemma had always thought how full of life he usually was. He ran the busy general practice where she worked as one of the practice nurses with the vigour of a man half his age, but he looked grey and gaunt as he sat there, sipping his tea.
‘Is Heather here?’ she asked gently, not wanting to add to his distress by pressing him for answers.
‘No. She left last night, caught the last train to London, in fact.’ Pain darkened his eyes. ‘I should have realised she had doubts about getting married and made sure it was what she really wanted instead of adding to the pressure she felt to go along with it.’
Gemma looked at him in surprise. ‘It was Heather’s decision to marry Ross. Nobody pushed her into it.’
‘Maybe.’ Matthew gave her a grim smile then looked round when the doorbell rang. ‘Excuse me. I’d better see who that is.’
Gemma drank some of her tea after he left the kitchen. It seemed her trip had been a waste of time if Heather wasn’t here. She had no idea what she should do now, or if there was anything she could do. Going to see Ross was out of the question, of course. He would be far too upset to see her.
The sound of voices made her glance round and she felt her heart leap when she saw the two men coming along the hall. Matthew was tall but the man with him topped him by a couple of inches. In the wintry light filtering through the kitchen window, his skin gleamed like burnished gold, the perfect foil for his startling bluer-than-blue eyes.
Gemma felt a shudder run down her spine, then another until it felt as though her whole body was quaking. She had tried so hard to ignore these feelings, tried and, to some extent, succeeded too. Every time she’d found herself reacting to the sight of him, she’d reminded herself of all the reasons why it was wrong: he was her best friend’s fiancé; he wasn’t interested in her; he definitely wouldn’t find her attractive—especially if he saw her naked.
All those points still held good. Maybe the first one was in doubt but weddings had been called off and rescheduled before, and there was no saying this one wouldn’t be either. However, the second two points were as valid now as they had always been. Ross wasn’t interested in her and he most definitely wouldn’t find her attractive in bed. No man in his right mind would.
Gemma knew there was no hope wishing she could have a chance to win Ross’s love, but that didn’t stop the tingles, the shivers, the mini-earthquakes that were assailing her as he came into the room. Her head understood the truth, but her heart was deaf, dumb and blind to it, steadfastly believing that if she loved Ross enough from afar, one day he might learn to love her in return.
CHAPTER TWO
ROSS ground to a
