prepared to be adored for ever. There are one or two conditions attached, of course.’
‘What sort of conditions?’
‘You’d have to adore me back,’ he told her. ‘Oh, and you’d need to wear this every day.’ Digging into his shirt pocket, he produced the diamond ring that Miranda had last seen as it plopped into his pasta.
Taking it from him, Miranda turned the ring between her fingers so the diamonds flashed in the sunlight. ‘Hmm…sounds quite an interesting job,’ she pretended to muse. ‘What’s the deal?’
‘Well, there would be a few details to sort out, but before we go into that I’d need to know if you were available and willing in principle to take the position.’
Miranda smiled as she remembered the last time Rafe had used those words. Then he had been asking her to pretend to love him. Now it was wonderfully, gloriously for real.
‘I’m available,’ she assured him, slipping the ring back on her finger where it belonged and raising herself on one arm so that she could bend to kiss him softly. ‘And very, very willing!’
It was a perfect day for a wedding. The bride looked like a fairy tale princess, in a stunning ivory silk creation, swathed in antique lace. A gossamer-fine veil streamed from the tiara she wore in her beautiful hair, and she carried a bouquet of exquisite, creamy yellow roses. Glowing with happiness, she laughed up at her groom, who wore a faintly stunned look, as he if couldn’t quite believe she was really his, and his expression when she kissed him made more than one of the guests wipe a surreptitious tear away.
‘You look beautiful,’ Rafe told Miranda.
‘It must be because I’m so happy.’ She leant against him with a smile. ‘I feel as if my heart is going to burst with it. It was a beautiful wedding, wasn’t it?’
‘Perfect,’ said Rafe, ‘for Octavia and Simon. Not for us.’
‘No,’ she agreed, her smile widening. ‘Not for us. Today is everything Octavia has ever dreamed of, and I’m so happy for her, but our wedding isn’t going to be like this, is it?’
‘Ours will be perfect for us,’ Rafe promised. ‘It’ll be everything
‘Miranda!’
Octavia’s voice interrupted them and Miranda turned to see Octavia on the steps, the voluminous skirt of her dress caught up in one hand. Smiling at her sister, she tossed the bouquet straight towards her.
The roses came sailing through the air straight towards her, but Miranda wasn’t ready. Caught unawares, she dithered and stretched out her hands too late. ‘Oh, no!’ she cried, hating the thought of the beautiful roses crashing to the floor.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ Grinning with affectionate exasperation, Rafe shot out an arm and caught the bouquet just in time. Bowing in acknowledgement of the rousing cheers, he presented them to Miranda with a flourish. ‘I believe these were meant for you,’ he said. ‘You must be getting married next!’
A-brim with happiness, Miranda laughed and took the roses with a kiss.
The dress, an exquisite confection of silk and chiffon, was hanging behind a door, floating ethereally whenever the air so much as stirred. A bouquet of meadow flowers would be delivered in the morning. The champagne was already on ice. That was the extent of the preparations for
‘Only two weeks,’ Rafe murmured in her ear. ‘Then it’ll be just you and me-and the dog, I suppose. We’ll be sitting on the beach with that champagne, just like you dreamed, and we’ll be married at last. We’ll listen to the sea and, when the champagne is finished, we’ll go back to Whitestones to make love all night-and then we’ll wake up in the morning, knowing that we’ve got the rest of our lives to spend together.’
Miranda sighed happily and kissed him again. ‘I can’t wait,’ she said.
Jessica Hart
Jessica Hart was born in West Africa, and has suffered from itchy feet ever since, traveling and working around the world in a wide variety of interesting but very lowly jobs. All of them have provided inspiration on which to draw when it comes to the settings and plots of her stories. Now she lives a rather more settled existence in York, where she has been able to pursue her interest in history, although she still yearns sometimes for wider horizons. If you’d like to know more about Jessica, visit her Web site at www.jessicahart.co.uk.
