A Convenient Wedding. Lucy Gordon

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out to deeper water. She went down, struggling madly, came up gasping and tried to cry out. But water filled her mouth as she went down again. The man had vanished from the causeway. Rage filled her. He’d left her to drown.

      ‘Where are you?’ His voice came from nearby.

      ‘Here!’ she screamed as the current yanked her further out to sea.

      But then—oh, the relief as something that felt like a steel hawser went around her waist, holding her steady against the worst the water could do!

      ‘It’s all right. I’ve got you,’ said a voice she recognised.

      Now she could make out details of him. Before diving in he’d yanked off his heavy overcoat and sweater. Through the thin, sodden shirt she could feel shoulders like cliffs, the swell of taut muscles beneath her hands, the hardness of a heavy torso against her body.

      ‘Just keep hold of me,’ he snapped. ‘I’m not releasing you until we’re on land.’

      ‘Suits me,’ she gasped.

      ‘But if you’d listened to me in the first place—’

      ‘Must we talk about that now?’

      ‘No,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘Later will be better, and I have plenty to say.’

      They’d reached the causeway, where he put her hands firmly onto the stones and told her not to move. She couldn’t have moved in any case. She was half frozen. When he’d climbed up he leaned down, reaching out his hand to grasp hers. She seized it with relief and he hauled her up. She achieved a toehold but slipped back almost at once, and felt a powerful arm shoot out and around her waist.

      ‘Grab me around the neck,’ he yelled.

      She did so and felt herself once more drawn against his body, tense with effort. He lifted her until her feet were clear, and then set her down. Her heart was pounding with fear, excitement and sheer annoyance at being rescued by this man of all people. She could never account for the first words that came out of her mouth.

      ‘Who are you calling a beanpole?’

      ‘Quit yakking and get in.’ He indicated his own vehicle. It was old and shabby but very heavy, and it was holding its ground against the surging water.

      ‘I’ve got papers on the front seat,’ he said. ‘You get in the back.’

      ‘With them?’ She indicated the two Alsatians occupying the rear.

      ‘They won’t mind.’

      She climbed gingerly in and sat squashed up against the two dogs, who welcomed her with delighted yelps and licks.

      ‘Thank you for rescuing me,’ she said through gritted teeth.

      ‘Wouldn’t have been necessary if you had any sense,’ he observed.

      ‘You might have told me there was no bridge.’

      ‘I tried, but you wouldn’t listen. There’s just the causeway and it’s only above water at low tide. Luckily I was coming this way in any case, so I knew I’d be there to rescue you from your own foolishness.’

      ‘You’re going to the castle?’

      ‘Right.’

      ‘You know Jarvis Larne?’

      He gave a brief flickering glance over his shoulder before returning his attention to the road. ‘Is it him you’ve come to see?’

      ‘Yes, and I wish I hadn’t. I didn’t mean to turn up like this.’

      ‘You sound as if you’ve come a long way.’

      ‘I’m American,’ she said, answering the implied question. ‘From New York.’

      ‘That’s quite a distance to see a man who isn’t expecting you. What’s your business with him?’

      His familiarity irked her enough to make her snap, ‘I’m thinking of marrying him, actually.’

      The stunned quality of his silence was very satisfying. It was nice to have found something that would shut him up.

      ‘Would you mind saying that again?’ he said at last.

      ‘It’s a long story,’ she said, wishing she’d held her tongue. It wouldn’t do for this tale to reach Jarvis Larne before she did. ‘What I’ve just told you is in confidence.’

      ‘You wouldn’t want your engagement announced prematurely,’ he agreed.

      ‘Yes, and there are—things to be settled—’ she said delicately.

      ‘You mean you haven’t proposed to him yet?’

      To her annoyance she felt herself reddening. ‘I mean no such thing!’ she said crossly.

      ‘You have proposed to him. Did he accept?’

      ‘I’m not going to discuss this with you.’

      ‘No, it would be better to discuss it with him, wouldn’t it? After all, he might turn you down.’

      ‘He can’t afford to,’ Meryl said before she could stop herself, and regretted the words instantly.

      ‘Really? Then you’re probably right not to let him know you’re coming. Why bother with courtesy if you don’t have to?’

      ‘Now look—!’

      ‘We’d better leave this for the moment.’

      His assumption of authority irked her but she was shivering too much to make a point of it. To her relief they had nearly arrived, and she could just make out the huge bulk of the castle rearing over them. The car was laboriously climbing a steep road that ended in front of a large wooden door. It opened, and an elderly woman came out.

      ‘Hannah!’ the man called. ‘Will you look after this lady before she freezes to death?’

      Meryl got stiffly out of the vehicle and went gladly to where the light and warmth welcomed her.

      ‘Come you in,’ Hannah called, standing back to let her pass, and shutting the front door behind her.

      To Meryl’s dismay the warmth turned out to be largely illusory. The castle was just about warmer inside than out, and that was all that could be said.

      ‘You need a fire,’ Hannah said, understanding. ‘And you must get out of those wet clothes.’

      She showed Meryl into a room lined with old books, where a log fire burned in an old-fashioned grate. Shivering, she hurried into its blessed circle, and stood with her hands held out to the flames until Hannah reappeared with a bathrobe and some towels.

      ‘Quick, before you get pneumonia,’ she urged.

      Thankfully Meryl threw off

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