An Unbreakable Bond (5 page)

Narrowing her eyes, Cara scoffed, “Obviously, Miss Summers –”

Annabelle noticed the drop of her first name.

“You are perhaps not competent enough to take on this task?”

Annabelle tossed the file onto her desk. There was a decision to be made. Does she tell her to take her arrogant groomed derrière out of here, or does she swallow her pride? After all, this was a big job and she could afford to take April on her first holiday abroad. The holiday won. She put on her best smile and swallowed the desire to put a dirty foot mark on the back of her cashmere black pants. “Well Cara, I may not have the swanky office and décor you’re used to, but I can assure you that your dream is in good hands.”
Crap!
How many favours would she have to call in for this one!

Cara nodded at her approvingly. “My contact number and deposit cheque are in the file.” Turning her back, she promptly left, leaving behind the strong opium scent of her perfume.

Stunned, Annabelle sat on the edge of her desk. The whole interlude had taken less than ten minutes to complete. It felt like a lead hammer had just been dropped on her world. Grabbing the phone she dialled a familiar number and swung her foot nervously whilst waiting for the pick-up.

A deep husky tone answered, “Daniel Carter here.”

Annabelle gulped. “Daniel, help!”

It took the longest thirty minutes ever for Daniel to sweep into the shop and enfold her in a big bear hug. If anyone could save the day it was Daniel.

Looking down at her, he grinned. “Sweets, have the sharks been at your door?”

Hugging him back she laughed. “This one was worse! More like the man-eating piranha variety!”

Daniel had been her friend for seven years, helping her step into event management. Tall, toned and suave with a mop of wavy blonde hair that would often flop onto his forehead and across his cornflower blue eyes. Daniel Carter was definitely a sight to drool over. There was a deep love between them and she’d often thought that if things had been different he would have been perfect for her. Well, that's if he wasn’t gay and happy with his partner, Philippe!

“Okay, pass me the file and show me the dirt.” Sliding off his jacket, he pointed to the kettle and opened his phone.

By late afternoon they had waded through most of the file. “Okay sweets, if we move the wedding day to Tuesday that means we can get the white vintage Rolls Royce, hire nearby Dunstan Hall Hotel for the astronomical number of guests and order enough limos to chauffer everyone, but we can’t have the marquee reception at Blickling Hall because of other functions.”

Sighing, she massaged the back of her neck. “It seems that when we can make a booking in one area, another area is booked up. Come on Daniel, there must be something magical that you can pull out of your top-hat?”

Thoughtfully, he tapped his lips with his pen. “Well, just for you,
I could
open the ballroom upstairs, which is currently used as a museum piece for public viewing.”

Throwing her arms around his neck she screeched in happiness. “Daniel, I promise you won’t regret this!”

He laughed. “Yes, but it comes with a condition.”

She groaned. “You’re going to make me pay with mega interest aren’t you?”

He grinned. “I would like to have full media coverage. It will be a one off specialist event at Blickling Hall Ballroom since the history of the Boleyn sisters and it will bring in a frenzy of interest.”

Teasingly, she slapped her thigh and tried to copy Cara’s Texan drawl. “Well now, I’m sure miss billionaire piranha Boone will just love all the attention!”

Laughing at her terrible accent, Daniel grabbed his coat. “
Okay sweets, that’s
the main work done. The only other important task is to pin Cara down for the name of her fiancé and their guests and get the invitations moving.” He winked mischievously. “So, how about we go and celebrate at that new Italian restaurant on the river and order a bottle of their best.”

Annabelle beamed. “Give me a minute to check in with mum and April.”

****

Tristan drove the hire car into the village of Edingthorpe. The familiarity of the place struck him deeply and he felt a flutter in his chest. Very little had changed apart from the greengrocer’s shop, which was now a little café bistro that looked out over the pond in the village green. Relaxing his shoulders a little, he sighed with relief. That could be a sign that Annabelle and her family had moved away. A rush of guilt overcame him. This visit was meant to be kept as simple as possible - complete the wedding preparations, see his grandfather and get the hell out. No re-visiting the past and absolutely no bumping into Wade or Annabelle. Bitterness and any awkward explanations were just not on his agenda.

Edingthorpe Hall sat on the outskirts of the village. It was an 18th century Norfolk grey flint stone house with large Georgian windows. Pulling into the semi-circular drive he parked the car next to a black limo and immediately gritted his teeth. The limo could only mean that Cara was already here. During this last week her constant demands and the pressure of the wedding had put a wall between them and he felt they were dancing on egg-shells. He would have preferred a quiet ceremony at his ranch in Mount Vernon, Texas, where only close family and friends would gather, but she was pulled by his aristocratic English heritage and nothing he said would stop her from having a full blown parade.

The door to the Hall opened and his grandfather, Lord George Hemsley-Ford VIII, was waving at him from the steps. Smiling widely, Tristan jumped out of the car and moved excitedly towards him.

With his stick in one hand, his grandfather opened his arms and beamed at him. “Tristan, you are a sight for sore old eyes!”

Tristan wrapped his arms around the ageing form and hugged him deeply. “Hi Gramps, it’s so good to see you.”

Being an only child, his childhood had been dominated by his ruthless and emotionally distant father, whose sole interest was in preparing Tristan to handle power, business and prestige. The six years he had been granted to stay with his grandfather and finish his education in the UK, had given him an insight into what it meant to have warmth and someone to confide in. Coming here had been his lifeline and he had found refuge. The only time he’d seen his grandfather in ten years was three years ago when Tristan had insisted that he spend Christmas with him at his ranch.

Gramps leaned on his stick and pulled Tristan inside. “That young woman of yours is tireless. She has sent my household into a dither!”

Tristan laughed just as Cara was coming down the stairs.

“Darling, thank God you’re here. Things are just not going well.”

The look of disgust she threw at Gramps made Tristan wince.

“Your grandfather wouldn’t let me share your suite, so I’ve had to move rooms twice! Both rooms had a view of that awful church with a funny round tower.”

Raising his stick at Cara, Gramps warningly replied, “There will be no sharing of rooms under my roof until after the wedding.”

Grinning, Tristan knew full well that Gramps’ own wedding was of the shotgun variety. “Cara, this is Gramps home and we will respect his rules.”

Pouting her bottom lip, Cara moaned, “Well, his rules are a little too old-fashioned for my taste!”

Gramps shook his head and looked at her over the rim of his glasses. “Now young lady, I may be ‘old-fashioned’, but that does not stop you from having some respect.”

Tristan watched as Cara’s face lost some of its colouring.

Puffing out her chest she huffed at them. “Well, I'm suffering from jetlag after the awful flight I’ve had with rude attendants, screaming children and endless waiting. You’d think that flying first class meant better treatment, but it was dreadful, so you’ll be glad to know I’m retiring to my room…alone!” She turned to shimmy up the stairs and then stopped to shoot them a parting look. “Don’t forget Tristan, the meeting with the wedding planner is at nine sharp in the morning.”

Shocked into silence they watched her disappear around the corner and then Gramps squeezed Tristan’s arm and winked at him. “Now my boy, how do you fancy a tot of brandy in my study?”

Tristan nodded. “Lead the way Gramps.”

After a light supper and a few brandies Tristan headed for his old suite of rooms. Upon entering, he found the lamps switched on low and the balcony doors wide open, letting in a cool breeze. The room was exactly the same as it was when he’d left nearly ten years ago. Looking down at the silk rug, a vision of making love to Annabelle whacked him in the gut and he couldn’t breathe. Angrily, he turned and yanked open the bedroom door, strode out and slammed it behind him. There was no way he was sleeping in there. Tomorrow he would call a team of decorators and have it completely refurbished.

Chapter 3

Annabelle paced the floor nervously. Dread had settled in her stomach and her lip was sore from the constant gnawing that she’d done over the last hour. What kind of man puts up with a woman like Cara Boone?
Most likely a billionaire who sees women as a decorative commodity.

It was ironic that she chose to focus on planning weddings when she herself wasn’t married. Creating other people’s dreams in order to celebrate their love filled a romantic gap in her. Relationships had rarely made it past the kissing stage. Only once had she reached the level of heavy petting, but she’d stopped it before it went any further. It seemed to lack that certain chemistry that she’d felt for Tristan. When you have tasted the best wedding cake made with the finest fruit ingredients and edged with laced icing, a basic sponge cake just isn’t in the same league.

She wondered if Tristan had ever married and what his wedding would have been like? Gramps had never spoken about him, but he did go there for Christmas a few years back. Maybe Tristan got married then using a winter wonderland theme? An unexpected lump formed in her throat as her eyes watered. Feeling silly, she dabbed the corner of her eyes with her fingers. This is not the time or the place to be seen as a snivelling wreck over a sexual relationship that lasted no more than a few hours!

The clock on the wall read five to nine and through the bay window she saw a black limo pull up outside. Running to her desk she quickly touched up her lip gloss and sat down to read a letter in front of her as though fully composed. This morning she’d virtually thrown everything out of the closet looking for the one outfit that was going to make her feel like a professional. Finally, after making the bedroom floor look like she was holding a jumble sale, she settled on a deep green trouser suit that matched her eyes. The jacket had a superb cut that outlined her tiny waist, but its main attraction was the large gold buttons down the front. To finish off her outfit she complemented it with a pale green and gold chiffon scarf tied to the side around her neck. Desperately, she’d tried to tame her unruly auburn locks by holding them back in a gold clip at the nape of her neck, but they had refused to co-operate and wisps of curls kept escaping around her face. With a little black mascara and lip gloss, she felt spruced up enough to take on Miss Cara Boone!

The doorbell went and Annabelle looked up. Cara entered first and she was about to stand up as composed and serenely as she could in greeting when from behind Cara emerged her worst nightmare. Her hand went to her mouth in shock and her stomach plummeted to her feet. Blackness closed in from either side of her vision and she couldn’t breathe. No matter how rapidly she blinked, she couldn’t wipe off the vision from the screen of her pupils. It wasn’t working. Surely this was not happening.

“What are you doing here?” A deep male voice boomed at her and within a few short seconds a tall, muscular figure had managed to stride over to her desk, seize her by the arms and lift her out of the chair.

Absolutely flabbergasted, she peered into two magnificent cobalt blue eyes that were blazing daggers of molten fire into hers. She went weak at the knees. “Erm…um…hi Tristan, welcome to Wedding Belle Planners,” she squeaked.

Squeaked! She never squeaked and what was she thinking! After waiting ten years to see him again was that all she could muster? Why had all sense of intelligence left her mind at such a crucial moment!

Wincing at the harsh grasp of his fingers she tried to pull away, yet at the same time the smell of him and his warmth made her want to fling herself into him and hold on to him for dear life. It was a powerful magnetic mixture of sheer heart-pumping happiness and absolute horror that he was right here in the flesh.

Coming to his senses, Tristan registered her pull and immediately let go of her and watched as she dropped back into the chair like a rag doll. The last person he ever expected to see here was her and he was shocked to the core of his being. Drinking her in, he noticed her flushed face and the  innocent look that she still had about her, but now there was an underlying strength and damn him if she weren’t as sexy as hell. Remembering where he was and that Cara was just behind him, he released his pent up breath, composed himself and took a step back.

A moment of silence ensued as Annabelle slowly stood up, testing her weight on her knees. Nothing had prepared her for this kind of bolt from the blue. Bringing her breathing under control, she bought herself some time for her raging nerves to calm down by carefully brushing her hands down the arms of her jacket and straightening the creases. Aiming for lightness and to ease the tension in the atmosphere, she gave a wobbly smile and looked him full in the face. “So, I guess you’re the fiancé?”