She wondered now what kind of man he was. This dark demeanour one minute and the friendly, almost intimate demeanour the next. Why did she react to him like this? Why did he make her feel so tongue-tied and awkward? Almost like a silly schoolgirl
Suddenly, the blushing, self-conscious feeling started to drain away. And it was replaced by a very different feeling – a feeling of heat which rushed to her head. A feeling she had no trouble recognising. A feeling of intense anger.
Anger at the games he was playing with her – anger at him for making her feel gawky and silly.
It was anger – because anger was much easier to deal with than the other things he made her feel.
Then, the dance came to an end, and when Aisling made to step back, his arm was still there preventing her from moving. She stepped back sharply, almost pulling out of his arms. Then she heard the intake of his breath and realised she had shocked him.
When she looked up and saw the look on his face, she knew she had provoked some sort of reaction, and she might have to explain herself.
“Have I done something wrong, Aisling?” he said, his voice low and concerned. “I’m real sorry . . . I didn’t mean . . .”
And before he could say any more, Aisling felt tears rush into her eyes and she knew she was just about to make the biggest fool of herself. Blindly, she turned away from him and pushed her way through the dancing couples. She had to get out. Out, anywhere. Anywhere that was far away from Jameson Carroll.
Chapter 18
Aisling rushed out the doors at the far side of the large patio, out through the groups of wedding guests – avoiding the area where she’d last seen her parents. Then she headed down the steps and out into the beautiful sprawling garden.
Mercifully, she met no one she knew or even vaguely recognised. She slowed up for a moment to let the thudding in her chest die down, and then she spotted a white wrought-iron bench at the far end of the garden almost hidden by shrubbery. Relief flooded through her when she saw the bench was empty – and that there didn’t appear to be anyone else around this part of the garden.
She made herself walk now at a reasonably normal speed until she reached it.
By the time she had sat down and given herself time for her breathing to return to normal, Aisling Gayle was asking herself,
What on earth have I done
? And what on earth had Jameson Carroll done that had made her react in such a ridiculous, teenage way?
And the answer was – nothing.
Even now she was beginning to think she had imagined him holding her too tightly.
And even if he had – as boys had often done in the dance-halls in Ireland – had she any reason to react so violently?
And on the face of it, she knew she had no reason at all.
Oh, God,
she thought, her hands coming up to cover her face. How could she have been so stupid – so childish – running away from him like that?
She wondered now if anyone had seen her – and she wondered what Jameson Carroll must have thought of her. Probably he thought she was a complete lunatic. A hysterical, paranoid woman.
Then Aisling wondered if he’d noticed the tears suddenly spilling down her cheeks.
And then she didn’t need to wonder any more – for he was coming across the grass towards her right now.
Aisling didn’t know whether to run or stay put. Her mind raced, panicking as to whether she should tell him why she had run out – or whether to pretend she had felt ill. Or too hot . . .
He sat down beside her and she found the easiest thing was to say nothing at all.
“Aisling,” he said, and when she didn’t respond, he said it again, “Aisling . . . have I done something to upset you? Are you okay?”
Aisling just sat there, wishing she was a million miles away.
Wishing that she was anywhere – even back in Ireland – anywhere at this moment but here. And she wished she was doing anything else but having to sit here and face him. For she had no explanation for her silly, juvenile behaviour.
She turned towards him, willing the right words to come. And then their eyes met – and she didn’t need any words. He reached towards her and gathered her into his arms. He crushed her to him – holding her so closely that she could feel his heart beating, almost in time with her own.
Then, he paused for a brief moment, giving her the chance to pull away, and when she didn’t move, he bent to kiss her. Gently first and then hard – and full of an almost angry passion.
The burning feeling coursed like an arrow through her body again, and Aisling recognised it this time for what it was. The same sensation she had felt when she first met him. The feelings she had in the boat on Lake Savannah. She now knew without a doubt, that the feeling was that of intense desire. Pure desire for this strange, complicated, American man – a man with his own sensitivities, a man who had put his son before everything else.
Deep down, Aisling had known it all along – and that very knowledge was what she had run away from.
After what seemed like an age they parted – both b
reathless. They moved away a little, looking questioningly into each other’s eyes. Looking for recognition of what was happening to them.
Then Jameson bent his head towards her again. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, and his words made Aisling’s heart soar. “And you’re special . . . very special. I knew that from the first moment I set eyes on you.”
“I was sure you thought I was stupid,” Aisling whispered back.
He moved to hold her at arm’s length now. Then a little smile came his lips. “I’ve thought a lot of things about you,” he said, “but never once have I thought you were stupid.”
Aisling looked at him now – really looked at him. Then she felt the tears threatening again. “But we’re very different,” she said, her voice cracking a little. “Even though I don’t know much about you, I know that we’re completely different in loads of ways.”
“We can learn about each other,” he said, his hand moving to stroke her blonde hair. “I’m kinda looking forward to that. I like everything I’ve learned about you up to now.”
But you don’t know that I’m married,
thought Aisling. She leaned towards him, drawn by the strength and the warmth of his body. “I’m only here for a couple of weeks,” she said weakly.
He nodded, still smiling. “That’ll do for now . . . it just means that we have to go faster at getting to know each other.” He bent and kissed her lips again. “I want to know everything about you. I’m not real good at talking – I’ve kinda lost the habit. Apart from Thomas, it’s a long time since I’ve wanted to talk like this to anyone.” His voice dropped a little. “It’s a long time since I’ve needed to talk.”
Aisling nodded – warmed by his rich deep voice, his lovely American drawl, and the wonderful words he was saying. Then, a movement in the bushes behind them made her suddenly aware that they were not on their own. She rose up from the bench, alarmed that someone might have seen them.
Jameson stretched back over the bench, and parted some of the greenery. Then he turned and looked back at
her. “Relax,” he said quietly. “It’s only a cat stalking a bird.”
Aisling gave a deep sigh, then came to sit back down.
He stretched a hand out towards her and pulled her close towards him, and although she knew she was taking a risk, she could not help herself. She was in his arms again, and he was kissing her and holding her so close it almost hurt.
And she found herself clinging to him in a way she had never clung to Oliver Gayle.
Eventually, when she felt she was almost drowning in this wonderful feeling, a little voice at the back of her head told her that it needed to stop. She knew from the way their bodies were meeting so naturally and easily together, that she would have to pull away from him. Breathlessly now, she eased out of his grip and somehow managed to stand up. She straightened her pink suit skirt, and smoothed down her hair.
He looked up at her, with a smiling but shy sort of look on his face. “You okay?” he asked her gently, vaguely straightening the tie he had loosened earlier.
“I’ve got to go back in,” she told him, her voice halting. “I don’t want to – but I’ve got to. My parents and Jean – they might be looking for me.”
“Sure,” he said, nodding slowly. “I guess I’d better check on Thomas.” The smile appeared again. “He was dancing when I left. He loves it – but sometimes he gets carried away, and doesn’t know when to take a rest.”
He stood up, and then reached to take her hand. He held on to it, taking it in both of his. Then he lifted it to his lips and kissed each finger very gently.
Aisling caught her breath, a wave of desire rushing over her at his touch.
“Look,” he said now, “I don’t know what’s happening here between us . . . and I can sense that it might be full of problems. But for now, it feels real good to me.” His voice dropped a little. “Later . . . whenever you can find the time . . . we can talk and see what we can sort out . .
.”
Aisling looked up into the deep brown eyes again, and she felt as though her whole insides were turning upside down. “I’m not sure,” she whispered, then had to close her eyes tight to stop the tears from spilling down again.
“What’s so bad?” he said, cupping her face in his hands.
“The fact that I’m married,” she told him in a flat voice.
He nodded slowly. “Yup,” he said, reaching for her left hand. “I noticed your wedding band the first time I met you . . . within a couple minutes I looked to see if you were wearing one.” He touched her hair. “Things in life are not always black and white . . . I’ve been married myself.”
A tear slid down her cheek.
“Hell, Aisling,” he said, drawing her close again, “don’t t
ake on so . . . we haven’t done anything too terrible . . . a kiss isn’t such a bad thing.”
Aisling managed a watery smile. “I’ve never, ever done anything like this before,” she said. “I’ve never even
contemplated
it. I’ve never kissed another man since I got married.”
“Okay,” he said soothingly. “I can tell this is real difficult
for you, and I sure don’t want to upset you.” He drew a carefully ironed hanky from his inside pocket, and dabbed it to her eyes. “We’ll leave things for now – we’ll go back inside and join the party.”
They walked across the grass very slowly, without speaking, touching or looking at each other. But both reluctant to start the separation. They paused at the bottom of the steps and when Jameson looked into Aisling’s eyes again, the intensity of his gaze started the hot burning feeling inside her again.
“I think,” she said, “we’d better – you know, go back to our own tables.” She lowered her head, feeling like an awkward schoolgirl. “It’s just that my parents and Jean might notice something . . . if we’re together.”
He nodded his head slowly, not taking his eyes off her. “If that’s what you want, then that’s okay by me. But . . .” a little unsure note had crept into his tone, “I will see you later tonight . . . won’t I? You won’t just leave it this way?”
Aisling couldn’t stop herself from touching his arm – the arm that had held her close to him just a few minutes ago. “I promise I’ll see you later, but I have to go back inside now.”
Then, she turned and made her way into the foyer of the hotel and straight to the ladies’ room. She rushed to the mirror, checking for any obvious signs of what had just happened to her. But she was surprised that there were none. Apart from most of her lipstick having been kissed away, she looked more or less the same as she had earlier in the day. She scolded herself for rushing out without her handbag and make-up, and after cooling her wrists under the cold tap, she pursed her lips together to make the traces of lipstick more even, and combed her fingers through her hair. Then, she took a deep breath and headed back out to the main function room.
As she neared the table, she was relieved to find only Declan and Bruce sitting there chatting, and it was obvious from the way they greeted her that they hadn’t missed her at all. While they chatted on about American baseball, Aisling discreetly retrieved her handbag, took out her compact and dotted a bit of powder over her nose and cheeks, and then reapplied her lipstick.
Maggie and Jean appeared some ten minutes later. “Where on earth did you disappear to, Aisling?” Maggie queried. “I had a look around the hall and outside in the corridor, but I couldn’t find you anywhere.”
“Did you go for a breath of fresh air, honey?” Jean cut in, wafting her own face with a paper napkin. “You mentioned feeling very hot earlier.”
Aisling gave a vague nod, grateful for her aunt’s intervention. “I had a bit of a walk in the garden . . .”
“Don’t mention hot,” Maggie said, rolling her eyes. “We’re just not used to this heat in Ireland. I don’t know how you stick it all the year round.”
“Oh, we get cold winters here, too,” Jean told her, “and it can get very cold at night, even in summer.” She turned to Aisling now, still fanning the napkin. “Talking of night – the plan for the evening is food and drinks back at the house, and fireworks down at the lake.”
“I’m really looking forward to that,” Aisling said. “I’ve never seen a proper firework display before – only in the films.”