Protection (25 page)

But Carrie still thought it was rude and with the tunnel billowing and flapping around her, she held tight to Andrea's hand.

Hearing the sound of piped Christmas carols playing softly in the background and smelling the air heavy with the smell of pine trees and tinsel, as nearing the closed entrance to the marquee, two footmen, magnificent in red tunics and white breeches, stepped forward to hold the curtain aside.

This was the moment Isobel had been waiting for and all at once nothing else seemed to matter. Not her aching feet. Not the rough collar of her shirt. Not her aching arms. Just her. Gliding into the room. Smiling. As beautiful as she remembered.

She wanted to grab her. Hold her. Gather her up in her arms and cover her with kisses. But she couldn't! She daren't! She had to wait and be patient and remain calm and not draw attention to herself. The hours would soon pass and then, when the party was over, she would be hers.

Her speech over with, Carrie stood blushing and feeling stupid whilst the assembled ‘staff' clapped and whistled, and then cheered when she announced even more free food and alcoholic drinks was available for everyone at the back of the house.

Someone called for three cheers, and the hip-hips resounded around the marquee, making her blush still harder and wish the ground would open up before she thought to remind them again about the free booze and to her relief, they finally began to drift away. Even then one or two looked as if they wanted to engage her in conversation and quickly making her excuses, she grabbed Andrea and made a run for it, promising herself that next year she would not be going through this again.

Watching their retreating backs, Carmichael sighed heavily and wished more than anything that he could swap places with Andrea.

It was, he realised, the utter hoplessness of knowing he could never be with Carrie that saddened him the most. Before, he'd always thought he might be in with a chance. A slender chance, admittedly, but still a chance. But now she'd ‘come out', there wasn't even the faintest hope. His dream was over. Or should have been, except he still couldn't quite let go of the idea that women were fickle creatures by nature and as a result changed their minds a lot. He'd even heard that gay women quite often slept with men. Just for a bit of variety.

But even if Carrie did beg him to fuck her, would he still go through with it? Would he? After watching her screw Andrea and seeing how beautiful and sensual they were together, would he still have the guts to get in there and try to compete?

Somehow he didn't think so.

Ten minutes to eight.

The first guests were due to arrive at any moment and the whole house waited in fairly quiet anticipation.

In the distance, June could be heard demanding to know why there were only two waitresses in the dining hall and standing at the foot of the stairs, dressed rather stiffly in a dinner jacket and bow tie, Brian Holding quietly issued last minute instructions to one of his team.

“No one is to go up there.”He said evenly. “And I mean no one. Aside from the the lady of the house of course. Got that?”

The hired muscle nodded and standing with his hands neatly folded in front of him, looked ready to explode out of a suit stretched far too tight across his huge chest and massive shoulders.

Brian felt confident no one would get past him.

“How do I look?”

“Ravishing.”Andrea said, watching Carrie twirl in front of her.

Her dress was stunning. Cut from midnight blue satin, and entwined with dozens of tiny, silver stars, the skirt fell in luxurious folds to the floor, while the bodice, held in place with spaghetti straps, hugged itself to the contours of Carrie's body.

“Babe.”Andrea added. “You look absolutely gorgeous! If we didn't have a party to attend, I'd have you right now.”

“And I'd let you. Is it really okay?”

“It's better than okay. It's wonderful! Those poor saps downstairs won't know what's hit them. And, before you ask, no, your bum most definitely does not look big in it!”

Carrie laughed. “You know me too well. But might I say that you, my darling, look equally as edible.”

Andrea glanced down at herself, pleased, for once, that she felt she could agree. This slinky, little black number she was wearing didn't look bad at all. It showed off her curves nicely and the slits at the side provided plenty of room for manoeuvre- should she need it.

Next to Carrie though she might as well have been wearing a bin liner and they had joked about that earlier. Carrie stating that they might as well both be wearing bin liners for all the attention anyone would be paying to their dresses. The ‘gawp brigade', as she called them, would be out in force tonight, and all they would want to see was Carrie Shilling together with her lady lover. What they were wearing would hardly be noticed.

Andrea had agreed with her but inside she had withered, afraid that no one would like her and that she would be forced to endure an evening full of bitchy remarks and smutty innuendos.

A fear that Carrie had immediately stamped on. Insisting that of course they would like her and so what if they stared? They weren't going to see anything but the pair of them playing the perfect hostesses.

“You still worried?”Carrie asked now, as if reading her thoughts. “There's no need to be. They're pretty harmless really and I'll be with you.”

Andrea smiled wanly.”And there's me thinking I'm supposed to be the one protecting you! I'm okay babe. I love you.”

“And I love you. Now come here and let me smudge your lipstick.”

Slipping into the kitchen to fetch yet another tray laden with hors d'oevures, Isobel spotted a vacant chair and gratefully flopped into it.

Kicking off her shoes she rubbed at her aching feet and winced when sharp arrows of pain shot all the way up her calves and into her thighs.

Waitressing, she decided, was nothing short of torture! To think people actually did this for a living! They must be bloody mad!

At least the party was exciting. Everyone who was anyone was here and it was difficult not to just stand and stare whenever someone like Brad Pitt or Harrison Ford walked by. But, awesome as it was to actually see them in the flesh - and boy, Elizabeth Hurley really was lush! - she really only had eyes for one person. A single lady that she had been studiously keeping in her sights all evening.

If only she could have followed her all night, life would have been so sweet, but she other things to worry about. Like how to get past the hired lump that stood at the bottom of the stairs? She'd been watching him for a while now and the guy hadn't moved. He'd just stood there. Impenetrable. Solid as a rock. Causing her to wonder if he wasn't just one of those fake, wooden, guards put there in place of a real person?

To find out for certain, she'd accidentally on purpose brushed against him, getting nothing for her trouble but a barely raised eyebrow, which if nothing else, did prove that he was living and breahting.

Which left just the problem of how to slip round him without being noticed? There had to be a way. She had come too far and done too much to have her plans fall apart at the first hurdle.

Behind her, the kitchen door banged open and Maggie, busily tucking in the bottom of her blouse, swept in. Seeing Isobel, she tutted and pulled a disgusted face.

“Some of them think, just ‘cos they're famous, they can get away with bloody liberties!”She grumbled. “You wanna watch some of ‘em, you do.”

“I'll bear it it mind.”Isobel said easing her feet back into her shoes. “But if any of them try anything funny with me I'm going straight to the papers.”

“Might work for some of them.”Maggie agreed, reaching for another tray. “But I doubt Jack Nicholson will be too bothered.”

Isobel's mouth fell open. “You've been groped by Jack Nicholson?!”

“Dunno. There's so many of ‘em out there, it's hard to tell. I'm just saying watch your back. And what's with you, sitting down on the job? If June catches you here there'll be hell to pay!”

“In that case I hope she takes plastic. It's been worth it just to rest my bloody feet! I can't remember the last time they hurt so much!”

Maggie nodded sympathetically. “I know, but you'll get used to it. You just have to grit your teeth and keep going. And I've got the lounge. Again! It don't seen fair. I swear that June does it on purpose. She knows how flamin' busy it gets in there. Still, never mind. Keep thinking of the money is what I say and maybe you'll get lucky and some Hollywood hunk will grab your bum and give you the chance to make a fortune!”

With throbbing feet and aching arms, Isobel continued to weave her way through the assembled guests, offering nibbles and drinks as she roamed from room to room, her eyes constantly on the look out for a certain lady. Occasionally she would check the situation at the bottom of the stairs, unsure whether to feel encouraged or dismayed that the same guy was still stationed there.

Did he never rest? Or need to use the bathroom? What did he have under that jacket - a colostomy bag?

But surely, she mused, he had to be relieved at some stage, although, knowing her luck someone of equal girth was bound to replace him and she'd simply be back to square one. Therefore, the only solution had to be to choose an approach he couldn't possibly afford to ignore and one that, hopefully, would have him scuttling from his post.

“I feel like I'm on display.”

“I know.”Carrie said, keeping her smile carefully fixed in place. “But we knew they were going to be curious and you're doing fine. Just keep smiling and follow me.”

“Okay, but where are we going?”

“You'll see.”Carrie winked and expertly side stepping a bunch of photographers, eager to catch her every nuance, plus a middle aged celebrity reknowned for getting outrageously drunk, she surreptitiously led Andrea through the lounge and into her study, where she locked the door behind them.

Blessedly quiet after all the hubbub outside, for a moment they just stood there, wrapped in the silence and allowing their ears to adjust. Then Andrea spoke. “Why here?”She asked. “I mean... I'm glad to get away from the prying eyes for five minutes, but I don't understand why you've brought me here? I thought this room was supposed to be your sanctuary. You're ‘ no one can enter but me' space.”

Shrugging, Carrie sat on the sofa. “It is, but you're different and. I wanted your first time in here to be special. And seeing as how tonight is very special, here we are. Want to sit down?”

Andrea sat. “Okay then.”She said, trying hard not to look around her. “So what's so special about tonight, other than the braying mob outside?”

“Well.. firstly I just wanted to say how much I really love you. I've never felt like this before, about anyone, and sometimes it's so intense I don't know what to do with myself. You rock my world, babe. You make me smile. You make me laugh and I love you so much! And I guess what I'm trying to say, and making a total pig's ear of it, is.. Andrea Stone, will you marry me?”

Andrea didn't know what to say and for a moment she simply sat there. Then she smiled and flung her arms tight around Carrie's neck.

“Yes. Yes. Yes! Oh, Carrie, of course I'll marry you! When ...?”

“Around Spring, I thought.”Carrie said, swept away by Andrea's joy and grinning herself. “When all the flowers are out. It'll be lovely then and not too cold. What do you think?”

“I think it sounds perfect. God, I'm so excited! How long have you been planning this? I didn't have a clue!”

“You weren't supposed to, but it's taken me three weeks to pluck up the courage.”

“Three weeks! Why? Did you really think I'd say no?”

Carrie shrugged. “You might have.”

“Plank! I love you! No way would I have said no!But what now? Do we announce it straight away or… ?”

“I think we should wait a while.' Carrie advised. “Let's get used to it ourselves before we start making it public knowledge. I don't think Carmichael could handle another surprise just now!”

“I know, poor lamb.”Andrea giggled. “But I reckon he'd manage. Knowing him, he'll probably want to be best man or something, which isn't saying a lot considering it'll be a wedding between two girls.”

Carrie snorted. “Carmichael best man! Are you kiddin'? I don't know about you, but I was planning on having a best woman, rather than a best man, and I'd really rather not give Carmichael a starring role if we can help it. He has a tendancy to start taking over when it comes to this sort of thing and it is our wedding after all. If he wants something to do, he can try chatting up the bridesmaids.”

“Better make sure some of them are straight then. Gotta give the poor guy at least some kind of chance.”

They kissed then and with the party still going strong on the other side of the door, they stepped carefully out of their dresses and made love on the sofa. Their decision to marry only adding to their pleasure as they touched and caressed and showed each other how much they cared.

Afterwards, they crept silently from the study like a couple of naughty school girls, unseen by everyone save Carmichael, who watching them softly close the study door behind them, guessed correctly what they'd been up to and felt another miserable stone of regret settle itself heavily inside his chest.

Isobel Pearce was perilously close to loosing it. Finally, she had hit upon an way to move the guard from his position at the foot of the stairs, but for it to work she first had to know where she was, and as of now, she had absolutely no idea.

Peering into every room she could get into had been a waste of time. All she'd seen was drunken celebrities and pushy journalists. The beauty inside the phenomenal dress nowhere to be seen.

Now she was starting to panic and clutching her tray, she made her way towards the sweltering marquee.