Her honorable playboy, p.7
Her Honorable Playboy, page 7
‘Where’s Charlie?’ Seb asked.
‘Wandering about somewhere with Vicky.’
‘I need to make some more introductions. Come on, Alyssa.’ Seb took her hand and tugged her away with him.
‘Seb, that was rude,’ she said quietly.
‘I can’t stand being in the same room as them. They’re a pair of bloodsuckers,’ Seb said vehemently. ‘Dad made Charlie promise he’d look after our mother when he died. When she remarried, that should have released him from the promise. But, no, not Charlie. He’s such an idiot. He lets them live here as if they were the baron and his lady, and he picks up the tab. He says it’s his duty.’
She couldn’t think of anything to say, so she took the wise option and kept her mouth closed.
‘And, of course, Mama Dearest won’t dream of helping him by opening the house to the public or holding weddings here or something—anything to make the house work for part of its keep. Old houses like this cost a fortune in maintenance, and you wouldn’t believe the regulations when it comes to doing any work on the place. And she tries to interfere in the way Charlie’s manager runs the estate—even though she doesn’t have the first clue about finances or estate management. All that woman knows how to do is spend.’ His mouth was set in a thin line.
So that was the root of Seb’s gold-digger fixation. But now wasn’t the time to talk about it. ‘Seb, we’re at a wedding right now,’ she reminded him. ‘And you’re the best man. Do I have to kick your ankle again?’
‘No.’ He tightened his fingers round hers. ‘Thank you for that. I told you I needed rescuing.’
And he’d been telling the truth. Her heart went out to him. Though she could see another shadow in his face—a shadow she could at least put to flight. ‘Hey. I’m not going to breathe a word of your private business to anyone at the hospital, before you ask.’
‘I know. I trust you.’
Then he looked at her in utter shock. Alyssa guessed that he’d never said those words to anyone female before. Except, maybe, the sister she reminded him of. The sister he was just about to introduce her to.
He dropped her hand. ‘Let’s go and find the wedding party.’
Charlie was a slightly taller, broader and softer version of Seb—he wasn’t quite so polished—and Alyssa liked him on sight. She also liked Vicky, who had the same slate-blue eyes and dark hair as Seb, the same slightly mischievous feel about her, and who said exactly what she thought.
‘About time you turned up, Seb. I’ve been doing your best man’s duties all morning,’ she said.
‘Oh, rubbish. I’ve done everything I was supposed to,’ Seb said.
‘What about looking after the bridesmaids?’ Vicky pointed out.
Seb rolled his eyes. ‘I’ve already discussed that with the groom. The deal is, I’ll look after you, as chief bridesmaid—but not the tribe.’ He turned to Alyssa. ‘She seriously thinks I’ll look after five girls under the age of ten?’
‘What is it with you and kids, Seb?’ Alyssa asked.
He scowled. ‘I’m allergic to them.’
‘No, you’re not. You’re just hopeless with them and you don’t like it because they—unlike their mothers—can resist your charm.’ Vicky winked at him. ‘Go and do best man things and I’ll take Alyssa to meet Soph. You can’t come because it’s bad luck.’
‘It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding, not the best man,’ Seb corrected her.
Vicky snorted. ‘For someone who’s allergic to weddings, too, you know a lot, don’t you?’
‘Of course. He’s an encyclopaedia. The fount of all knowledge,’ Alyssa said.
‘Oh, that’s it,’ Seb said in disgust. ‘I knew you’d gang up on me if I introduced you to each other.’
‘Because you deserve it,’ Charlie said, laughing. ‘Wait till Soph comes down.’
‘Yeah, I know. She’ll join them,’ Seb said glumly. ‘Women! Well, as best man, my duty is to pour the condemned man a last malt whisky.’
‘You mean, you want one.’ Charlie clapped his brother on the back. ‘Come on, then. Let’s sneak off to the library. You know where we are if you need us, Vicky.’
Vicky gave them an amused glance, tucked her hand into the crook of Alyssa’s arm and led her up the sweeping staircase.
‘I think Tracey’s right—you are a match for Seb,’ Vicky said with a grin.
‘You discussed me with Tracey? As in Tracey Fry?’ Alyssa’s eyes narrowed. ‘So that raffle draw was a fix, then.’
‘Um…’ Vicky coughed. ‘I’m sorry. We were trying to do the right…’ She stopped. ‘We thought you might, um, be good for each other. But if we got it wrong, I apologise unreservedly. I know my brother can be a louse towards women.’ She gave Alyssa a curious look. ‘So what’s the deal between you? The last thing Seb told me, he was coming on his own.’
‘I don’t want to betray Seb’s confidence,’ Alyssa said carefully.
‘Let me guess. He realised that if he turned up solo, Mama Dearest would start throwing debs at him and he’d end up having his usual fight with her, and he didn’t want Charlie’s day ruined.’
Alyssa felt her eyes widen. ‘No comment.’
‘I thought as much. He’s probably right,’ Vicky said.
‘I did notice a bit of tension between them,’ Alyssa said carefully. And very little warmth either.
‘That woman has a lot to answer for,’ Vicky said dryly. But she refused to be drawn further. She simply said, ‘I’m glad Seb has a proper female friend at last.’
‘I’m not his girlfriend,’ Alyssa said quickly.
‘No, I mean a friend—someone who can show him that not all women are the same. He’s always been bad, but he got worse after Julia.’
‘Julia’s his ex?’
Vicky shook her head. ‘No, Charlie’s—but she was seeing someone else. Charlie walked in on them together, the week before they were supposed to get married.’
Ouch. No wonder Seb had seemed so angry when Alyssa had suggested that he wanted to sleep with the bride. He’d already seen the brother he loved hurt that way once. And as for Charlie discovering his fiancée had been cheating…Alyssa could identify with that. Except, in her case, it hadn’t been before the wedding. And it had been a little more complicated than just cheating.
‘Seb was murderous. And even though we both love Sophie, he’s still…Oh.’ Vicky shook her head. ‘I think you’re bright enough to work him out for yourself. The real Seb Radley, I mean, not the playboy he makes everyone think he is.’ She smiled. ‘But, hey, it’s Charlie and Sophie’s wedding day. Don’t listen to me moaning.’
‘You just love your brother and want to see him happy,’ Alyssa said quietly.
If only she’d had a sibling who’d looked out for her, like Seb’s brother and sister. Someone who would have stopped her making a fool out of herself over Scott. Then again, Alyssa had ignored her mother’s doubts. So maybe she’d just had to find out for herself. The hard way.
When Vicky introduced Alyssa to Sophie, Alyssa liked the bride on sight, too. Bubbly, blonde and bouncy—and her room was filled with people. A woman who was obviously Sophie’s mother, fussing around her hair. And five small bridesmaids, complete with their mothers who were making last-minute adjustments to hair, explaining that, no, they couldn’t wear lipstick or sparkly nail varnish and—to the youngest two—yes, they’d have a special teddy to carry, a teddy who wore a special dress like Aunty Sophie.
Kisses and hugs and laughs and smiles. So this was what a big, noisy family was like. Everything Alyssa had dreamed about when she’d been a kid—and had felt guilty about wishing for something she couldn’t have.
And how different this was from her own, so very quiet, wedding day.
‘Excuse the bedlam,’ Sophie said with a grin.
‘It’s OK. I like kids,’ Alyssa said.
‘Unlike my future brother-in-law.’
‘Think of me as his temporary stand-in. I’ve worked in emergency medicine for a long time, so I have tricks up my sleeve,’ Alyssa said with a grin. She cast a glance at the youngest bridesmaids. ‘Does anyone want to hear a princess story?’
Four young heads turned her way—and then a fifth, slightly older one, who was clearly trying to look cool and grown-up but also wanted to hear the story. There was a chorus of ‘ooh’ and ‘yes, please’ and ‘wicked’—all at the same time.
Alyssa smiled. ‘Right. The rules are, you have to stay put and sit very, very still, so your mums can finish doing your hair. And I’ll tell you the story of a very, very special princess…’
‘I think,’ Sophie said to Vicky, sotto voce, ‘we’ve just found the woman who can make Seb into a real human being.’
‘It’s getting them to see that. They both say they’re just friends.’
‘That’s a step up from the norm, where Seb’s concerned.’ Sophie smiled. ‘And, hey, it’s my wedding day. A day when dreams can come true.’
Vicky grinned back. ‘Just don’t lob your flowers at them. I don’t think the direct approach will work with those two somehow.’
‘Pity. I suppose locking them in a dungeon until they agree to get married wouldn’t work either?’
‘There aren’t any dungeons at Weston,’ Vicky said.
Sophie’s eyes gleamed. ‘We could arrange it…’
At last, the bridesmaids were ready.
Vicky looked at her watch. ‘Time to go. Unless you want to keep Charlie waiting a few minutes, Soph?’
Sophie shook her head. ‘I haven’t seen him since last night, thanks to you lot being so superstitious.’
‘It’s bad luck to see the groom before the wedding,’ Vicky and Fran, Sophie’s mother, chorused.
‘I know. And I can’t hold out any longer.’ She turned to Alyssa with a pleading look. ‘Vicky wouldn’t even let me talk to him on my mobile phone this morning.’
‘Uh-oh. Mushiness alert,’ Vicky said with a grin. ‘Ready to do our princessy bit behind Aunty Sophie, kids?’
There was a chorus of ‘Yes’ and they trooped down the stairs together.
Sophie was the epitome of a bride. Radiant, beautiful, wearing a truly stunning dress and a very simple veil and headdress, and carrying a simple sheaf of Calla lilies.
Alyssa pushed the little pangs of envy aside. Marriage hadn’t worked out for her, but it didn’t mean it wouldn’t work out for other people. She followed the others down the stairs and into the hall where Charlie and Sophie were getting married. Seb was standing at the front, next to Charlie. Alyssa was about to slip into a seat at the back on the groom’s side when Seb caught her eye and motioned to the front.
He’d saved her a seat next to him? Her eyes widened. She wasn’t officially part of the family. She’d been a last-minute invitee, too. Piggybacking on Seb’s invite, really. She didn’t belong there.
‘Please,’ he mouthed.
Well, she was supposed to be there as a buffer. She couldn’t be much use to him if she was sitting halfway across the room. She nodded and made her way to the front, sliding in next to Mara.
The ceremony began, and as the registrar spoke the so-familiar words, she found herself reliving another wedding, five years before. A wedding where she’d made her vows so earnestly, believing every single word—and all the time, Scott’s vows had been false. Every word a lie.
She realised Seb had taken his place beside her when a hand curled round hers and squeezed it briefly before letting it go again. Hell, it must show on her face that she found this hard. Or maybe Seb remembered she’d told him she didn’t like weddings.
She was almost tempted to tell him why. He’d keep it to himself, she knew that. But what was the point in stirring up memories that were better forgotten?
And then Sophie and Charlie were pronounced husband and wife. Charlie kissed his bride. And confetti flew in all directions.
Chapter 7
Alyssa kept the bridesmaids entertained during the interminable photo sessions with stories and songs, then Sophie’s mother joined her.
‘You’re really good with kids,’ Fran said approvingly. ‘Come from a big family, do you, love?’
‘No, there’s just me and my mum. But I see a lot of kids at the hospital and I’m used to telling them stories to get them to lie still so I can examine them,’ Alyssa explained.
‘So you’re a doctor, like my Soph. Are you a surgeon, too?’
‘No, I’m in the emergency department,’ Alyssa said.
Fran gave her a sidelong look. ‘You know, you’re not what I expected Seb’s girlfriend to be like. I thought you’d be snooty and stick-thin, and turn your nose up at anything more than a lettuce leaf.’
Alyssa chuckled. ‘Apart from the fact I’m not Seb’s girlfriend, I like my food—especially puddings—and I was terrified about coming here today because it’s a society wedding and I thought I’d feel a bit out of place.’
‘It’s a family wedding,’ Fran corrected her. ‘Our side isn’t blue-blooded.’ Not that she seemed bothered by it, because she added with a smile, ‘Everyone’s going to mix in fine. But you are here with Seb, aren’t you, love?’
‘Yes. Though he’s my colleague, not my partner.’
‘Hmm. Well, I hope he treats his patients better than he treats other people,’ Fran said.
‘He’s an excellent doctor.’
‘Soph says he’s got a heart of gold under all that party-party-party front.’ But Fran didn’t look quite so sure.
‘She’s right. There’s more to him than meets the eye,’ Alyssa said, and expertly steered the conversation back to Sophie and Charlie and how happy they looked. She really didn’t want to discuss Seb behind his back. And it felt strange, standing up for him, even though Fran was making exactly the same points Alyssa herself had thought about Seb.
Anyway, Seb didn’t need anyone to stand up for him. He could fight his own battles.
Then it was time for the meal. Seb had everyone eating out of his hand and laughing along with his jokes during the best man’s speech, and Alyssa caught a glance of the real Seb when he made the toasts. ‘To the bride and groom. And may life be always good to them.’ For someone who didn’t believe in love, Seb was absolutely sincere. He really did want things to turn out right for Sophie and Charlie.
He even managed to overcome his dislike of children long enough to compliment all the bridesmaids, to the point where their mums were all pink and glowing with pride. And then he caught Alyssa’s eye and raised his glass in a silent toast to her.
Thanks for helping him through this and keeping the kids away from him, she guessed.
Though, weirdly, it felt more personal than that. Special. Almost as if he were toasting her as his bride…
Oh, no. It must be the wedding atmosphere getting to her. Because she wasn’t going to be anyone’s bride ever again. And Seb definitely wasn’t going to get married. He’d told her that explicitly. My partners understand the situation right from the start. I’m not going to get married, or live with someone, or have a permanent relationship of any kind.
Which was fine by her. They understood each other perfectly.
At the reception, Sophie and Charlie had the first dance, followed by Seb and Vicky, as best man and chief bridesmaid. Alyssa was more than happy to watch from the sidelines. Then Seb came over to her, tugged her to her feet, casually looped his arm round her shoulders and kept her with him as they circulated, glass of champagne in hand.
Alyssa found some of the guests a bit toffee-nosed and shallow, but she noticed that Sophie’s family weren’t the least bit fazed by it and persuaded everyone to join in the dancing. Even Mara seemed to unbend a little.
How very different from Alyssa’s own small wedding. She’d only had her mum there to represent her family. Scott’s family—well, he’d said that he was on bad terms with them, hadn’t spoken to them for years. So they’d just had a few friends there.
But, in the circumstances, it was no wonder that Scott had wanted a small wedding.
‘Hey. Are you all right?’ Seb asked.
She shook herself. ‘I’m fine.’
‘You looked a bit sad just then.’
‘Weddings do that to me,’ she said lightly.
‘Want to grab some champagne and escape to the secret garden?’
She shook her head. ‘Seb, you’re the best man. You’re supposed to stay visible.’
He sighed. ‘Dance with me, then. Before I get dragged into dancing with all the bridesmaids.’
‘They’re lovely kids, Seb. You’d have fun dancing with them—and they’d feel like princesses, with you dressed like that.’ And looking so handsome—though she wasn’t going to tell him that. She was sure he already knew it anyway.
‘Kids and I don’t mix,’ he said firmly.
She gave up trying to persuade him, and put her glass on a nearby table.
Seb, as Alyssa had expected, was an excellent dancer, and had her spinning round effortlessly. She was enjoying herself thoroughly when the beat changed.
A slow dance.
Well, bang went that one, then. Seb had probably already spotted his next conquest among the wedding guests, and would start his seduction with a snatched slow dance.
But, to Alyssa’s surprise, Seb pulled her into his arms.
Slow dancing with Seb Radley. Hmm. She felt as if she were floating on air. But she’d only drunk two glasses of champagne—her glass, still sitting on the table, was full. Must be vintage champagne, then. Extra bubbles. And they’d gone to her head. Why else would she feel like this?
As they moved round the dance floor, she realised that Seb’s hands weren’t where they should be.
‘Seb,’ she hissed in his ear.
‘Mmm?’
‘Your hands are on my bottom.’
‘I know.’ His breath caressed her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. ‘Yours are round my neck. It’s called dancing. It’s what people do at a wedding reception.’
Yes, but there was dancing and there was dancing. And the way Seb was touching her didn’t count as just dancing. It was much more intimate than that. Promising. Tantalising.
