Magical Weddings (30 page)

“Damn it, Cait, what the hell are you playing at?”

“This isn’t what it looks like,” she answered, wincing as Matthew’s jaw clamped tighter.

“How can you possibly still think yourself in love with Guy when he chose your best friend over you?”

“I am not in love with Guy!”

Matthew heard the denial but the vision in white before him told him otherwise. He hadn’t meant for his voice to come out all gravel-like but, God, did she have any idea how beautiful she looked standing there in the wedding dress? Her huge blue eyes sparkling, her cheeks flushed and her breathing ragged?

White-hot jealousy tore through him and made his words terse as he accused, “I never would have expected you to be this low, Cait. Guy’s visiting his father in hospital and you’re here in his home pretending to be his bride?”

Cait hung her head and then did something that shocked him all over again.

She snorted and the snort turned into a peel of laughter and he worried he had tipped her over the edge into hysteria, but then she lifted her head, raised her gaze to him, and he realised she was laughing at him.

“Can you actually hear yourself?” she asked, incredulously. “I know a couple of years ago I gave you every impression I was in love with Guy, but I seem to recall you laughing at me, even then. In fact, you practically told me I didn’t have the imagination to be in love with anyone.”

The way her voice dipped on the last sentence, he could feel how much he had hurt her with his words that night. His lower jaw cramped as he remembered how the next day she had tried to take back everything she had said but he hadn’t let her. He had been too angry with her—too angry with himself for waiting. For thinking that they had all the time in the world to keep dancing around each other until one of them finally had the guts to get honest.

“If I don’t even have the imagination for that,” she said, “you can’t really believe I’m some sort of bridal bunny-boiler, sneaking around my friend’s home acting out my deepest fantasy? This is me, boring Cait Langdon, remember?”

“I don’t think you’re boring,” Matthew automatically replied, his voice tight and quiet as he scowled, because, okay, hearing her say ‘bridal-bunny-boiler’ out loud, he got that he had over-reacted. Something he obviously had a talent for doing whenever he was in her company.

But who could blame him this time? He had expected to drop in, make sure Guy had put a food-block in the fishbowl for Ebb and Flow and then be on his way. The very last thing he had expected to see was Cait dressed as a beautiful bride, taking his breath away and forcing him to acknowledge that although he had tried to leave her behind, for the two years he had been away, she had been with him.

In his head, teaching him all about regrets.

“So it’s just my job you think is boring, then?” Cait asked, watching him carefully.

“I don’t even think your job is boring,” he replied, because actually, he had always found the idea of her knowing, right from the get-go, what she wanted to do with her life, and then working so furiously hard to make it happen for herself, kind of inspiring.

She looked up at him like she didn’t quite trust what he was saying and he supposed he couldn’t blame her.

He had always loved the spark that came with getting her to react to him. Teasing her in the coffee shop had been no exception. But he shouldn’t have told her he had come back to stop her sabotaging their friends’ wedding. No matter how much her reacting as if seeing him back in Bath was the biggest disappointment ever had bruised his ego.

He had wanted to shock her and see if she still thought herself in love with Guy. Had told himself that if she did, then he would help support her through Rosie and Guy’s wedding day. Instead, at the first opportunity, he had reverted back to how he had always been with her, and when she had run, he had called himself all kinds of idiot.

“Look,” Cait said, cutting into his guilt. “I’m in this dress because I’m the same size and height as Rosie and she asked me to double-check the hem length against her shoes. She needs to be with Guy right now, or she would be doing this herself. Believe me, this is not something I would choose to be doing.”

“Why not?”

“Because, I don’t know—it feels like bad luck or something. And what woman wants to try on someone else’s wedding dress? Nice as it is,” she tacked on as if to make it clear Rosie hadn’t chosen a dud.

“You look beautiful,” he said, the words slipping out as he thought about how even her blush looked shy as it gently bloomed across her cheekbones.

“Oh, come on,” he ventured, when Cait continued to stare at him in shock. “It can’t be the first time a man has called you beautiful.”

“No,” she agreed, her voice soft. “It’s not the first time.”

Silence fell between them.

It was insane how much he wished he could have been the first man to tell her how beautiful she was. Why hadn’t he? All that game-playing and now it might even be too late.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said into the silence.

She aimed one perfectly arched eyebrow at him and waited.

“I shouldn’t have said I came back to check you didn’t do something stupid at Rosie and Guy’s wedding. I know you would never do anything like that.”

He watched as she took his words in. Gradually, generously, she gave a nod and then, with a little bit of her old spark back, added, “Next you’ll be telling me you’re back for good.”

Great. His hand tunnelled through his hair self-consciously. “You’ve heard about that, huh?”

“Were you expecting to keep it a secret?”

He saw more hurt lingering in the shadows of her eyes and hoped she was going to believe him when he told her the truth. “No. But it’s fair to say you and I didn’t part on the best of terms. When Rosie and Guy told me about the exhibition you’re working on and the kind of hours you’ve been putting in lately, I thought it would be better not to distract you.”

A hint of a smile formed. “So you consider yourself a distraction?”

“I considered you,” he replied seriously, needing her to know he wasn’t back to cause her trouble. “I wanted you to be able to concentrate on work. Rosie and Guy have been a little concerned about how much stress you put yourself under.”

“I see. You were trying to do something nice for me, then.”

“It’s about time, don’t you think?”

She appeared to consider his answer. “It’s certainly a new approach.” Her smile got bigger, flirting at the corners of her mouth. “Do you think it’s sustainable?”

“What, us trying to be friends past the wedding?”

She nodded and he felt his own answering grin spread across his face. “I’m happy to be put through my paces.” Especially happy if that meant getting to spend more time with her. “Perhaps you’ve noticed that I tend to thrive in,” he paused for effect, “challenging situations.”

“Well then,” she said, suddenly spinning around until she faced the mirror. “Let’s see how you get on without the cameras rolling. You can start right now, by helping me get out of this dress.”

Matthew stood rooted to the spot.

He had crossed rickety rope bridges hundreds of years old. He had traversed treacherous waters, and come face to face with dangerous wild animals. He had come back and ploughed every last bit of his savings into his new business. Yet the thought of undressing Cait made him feel like the start of his best adventure, yet.

“Matthew?” Cait turned her head to see what the hold-up was and as he took a step forward into her space, he carefully reminded himself that he wasn’t actually
undressing
, undressing her, so much as helping her out of Rosie’s gown.

As he reached out to smooth her luscious long hair out of the way, he realised his hands were shaking.

Smooth, he thought, grinding his molars together as he pushed the long tresses over her shoulder.

“You absolutely cannot tell Guy about seeing me like this,” Cait said as he located the tab of the invisible zipper and started easing it downwards. “Rosie would be horrified to think someone other than me has seen the dress.”

“Oh, trust me. My lips are sealed.” It was going to be hard enough getting the image of her in a wedding dress, and everything associated with that, out of his head. No way was he going to give Rosie and Guy the opportunity to question him about it.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” she asked and then immediately swung around to glance at the fish-bowl. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Guy asked me to check on them. Keep still a minute, this is trickier than I expected.” His order came out gruff as his knuckles grazed the soft golden skin he had exposed.

She trembled and sucked in a breath and it was impossible to ignore the awareness vibrating between them.

It had always been there. Even that night when she had confessed how much she liked Guy, how much she loved Guy—how much she was in love with Guy. How Guy was the only man she had met who understood that you didn’t have to leave a place in order to find what you were looking for. Guy got it, she had said. Guy was the patient type who could stand still long enough to notice the world right in front of him.

When Matthew had leant across the table and kissed her it had been to show her that there was someone who had already noticed her—him. She had responded as if he had opened up the sky for her and shown her something different.

He had thought…but no.

He had gone and ruined it. Or maybe they both had.

“Matthew?”

He felt his skin pull tight as he dragged the zip fastener lower down her spine. Clearing his throat, he said, “You’d think with me undressing you, you could finally get around to letting yourself call me Matt.”

“You’d think,” she agreed on a sigh as she smiled that wistful smile he loved.

He wondered if she remembered calling him Matt after he had kissed her that night. Her voice a whisper, her eyes asking a thousand questions as their lips had parted.

He wondered what would happen if he caved to temptation now and kissed her again.

It had to be too soon.

They were barely friends again.

Testing himself he let his forefinger trail along her silken skin until it reached the small of her back.

Unable to help himself, his gaze shot to the mirror to gauge her reaction.

The Masquerade Ball, Palazzo Ducale, Venice 1615

Matheo felt Caterina’s sweet breath caress his lips as she waited impatiently for him to take her mouth.

Damn but he wanted the knowledge of what her lips would feel like under his.

She enchanted with her huge blue eyes, with her hurried breath whispering in and out and with her fingers curving tightly into his chest as if seeking to claim. He knew, as he lowered his head to capture her lips that he must be careful not to claim too much in return. She had a look on her face that suggested she wouldn’t be able to stop at offering him only a piece of her heart and if she offered up all of it, he was not sure he would be able to resist.

No matter that she did not belong to him.

No matter that she was betrothed to another.

His best friend.

What the hell was he thinking? At the last possible moment, and with a strength he had never dreamed he possessed, Matheo stepped back from the greatest temptation he had ever faced.

Dark, heavy, curse words of frustration bounced around inside his head.

Caterina was not his to romance.

Not his to kiss.

No matter how much she deserved more than his friend Guido would ever think to give her.

No matter how much he, Matheo, wanted to give her those things, himself.

“Matheo? What—what did I do wrong?”

“You’ve done nothing wrong. Not a damned thing.” Other than to look at him like he had prevented her from having something she had wanted very much and making him fight again not to give in and taste her.

Caterina Rosso was everything entrancing. She was vivacious, adventurous, humble and hard-working.

When he had seen her across the ballroom tonight, standing so still amongst all the movement, he knew she was soaking up every moment to relive later. He had seen that look of concentration on her face before. He had seen her daydreaming before.

Had it been so very wrong to wish himself into those memories she had been making? He had already known he must leave Venice sooner than he had originally planned.

When her father had visited Guido earlier that evening Matheo had already been a guest at his friend’s house. But when Signor Rosso had requested Guido find a way of getting into the ball to watch over his daughter, Guido had turned positively white at the thought. He was not invited, he had insisted. It was not his place. He was sorry, but it was not possible. He did not know anyone who could vouch for his attendance and if Caterina had been formally invited then she would be looked after. She did not need him.

Matheo had seen the curl of disdain enter Signor Rosso’s face at the timidity of the man he had chosen for his daughter. Had the older man finally seen that dedication to making money was not everything in marriage? That Caterina required more. Deserved more.

Matheo had felt the anger and disappointment at his friend’s actions and known suddenly that he could not stay to watch him marry Caterina. He must leave sooner than he had planned. He could not stomach the thought of watching Guido unintentionally curb Caterina’s zest for life.

There was no doubt that Guido made a loyal friend but Matheo knew of his short-comings. Guido was too inclined to not take the lead in life and after his father had died, he had taken over his work and let it become his sole focus.

Over the years Matheo had tried to push, cajole, drag and negotiate his quiet, shy friend into at least a curiousness about life, but if Guido could not see the outcome of an adventure before entering into it, he would remain doggedly intransigent.

As Signor Rosso had prepared to leave Guido’s house Matheo had requested a moment of his time. With his permission, he would go to the ball tonight and ensure that no harm came to Caterina.