The Bride Who Wouldn't (6 page)

She crept out and saw that the shutters were still open and stared out again, wishing she could have her time back, wishing she could have better explained things to Isaak and then jumped a little at the sound of his voice.

“Things will seem better in the morning?”

She managed a watery smile but he didn’t see it as Kate didn’t turn around. “I doubt it.”

“Of course they shall.”

“I’m sorry I slapped you.”

“You’re not the first.”

“And for…”

“Go to sleep, Kate.”

It was a long lonely night on the sofa and she lay there for ages, unused to having another near while she slept, surprised by his kind words when she had come out of the bathroom.

Isaak wasn’t even close to the man she had imagined him to be, Kate thought as finally she fell asleep.

Isaak did not sleep.

Just before dawn, he got up to use the bathroom and saw the dress strewn on the floor and all the tiny pearls scattered everywhere.

Walking back to bed, he paused for a moment and looked at Kate asleep on the sofa. Her hair had curled and her eyes were swollen. He didn’t know whether or not to wake her and tell her she could have the bed, yet he chose not to for she finally looked peaceful.

His anger at her words had long since faded. He understood them perhaps, given that she had looked into his family background and would know his black family history—it was not a lineage to be proud of. His grandfather had gone to prison for assaults and the rape of women and his father had been in and out of prison too—his method of communication was his fists, or at times his boots or belt. If Kate knew all about it, given her issues she would have been terrified.

Poor baby, Isaak thought as he got back into bed.

K
ate woke to
her alarm and placed the throw rug over the sofa and then walked over to the bed.

“Come in,” Isaak mumbled sleepily, throwing back the covers. “To the neatest honeymoon bed in history.”

He actually made her smile as she climbed in.

“I’ll just move over a little,” Isaak said, “and put my arm around you. Is that okay?”

“Sure,” Kate said and he moved over. As his arm went over her, he was very careful to hold his body back, and she was touched that he did so. “I’m so sorry for what I said last night, about you…”

“Shhh,” he said. “You were upset.”

“I just lost control…”

“Really, did you?” His sarcasm made her smile. “It’s forgotten.”

They lay in silence for a moment and the bed was so soft and warm and Isaak so kind, it actually felt nice to be here, especially when he spoke. “I will get your necklace restrung today for you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kate said. “I hate it. It was my mother’s and I’ve always loathed it…”

“Yet you wore it on your wedding day?”

“It didn’t seem worth making a fuss about,” she admitted. “It wasn’t as if it was a real wedding….” Her voice trailed off.

“Why don’t you get it strung in a way you like it, then,” Isaak said. “In your style.”

Kate let out a soft laugh. “I don’t really know what my style is. I’m sort of dreading going out while we’re here, the Parisians always look so gorgeous.”

“So do you.”

Isaak lay there thinking, she did dress more than a little on the conservative side, thick stockings, buttoned up shirts. There was far too much holding back with Kate.

“I like your hair like this,” he commented for her curls brushed his face.

“It will be a disaster once the lights are on,” Kate said. “I should know better by now than to fall asleep with it wet.”

He made no real reference to last night and it was as unexpected as it was a relief as they lay there chatting about clothes and her mother’s strict rules while she was growing up.

“She was far more relaxed with my brothers,” Kate explained. “Just very rigid with me.”

“In what way?”

“In every way. I laughed too loudly, I didn’t stand up straight, I forgot to keep my knees together getting out of the car. She loathed that I got on so well with my father, she found his work boring, I found it fascinating. We used to go to auctions and if I wore jeans she’d say I was dressing like a boy. If I wore a dress she’d accuse me of showing myself off too much,” Kate said. “She still complains about what I wear even now…”

“You’re twenty-six.”

“I know.” Kate yawned. “I’m honestly not trying to win her approval—I gave up on that long ago. I’m just saying to you that I don’t know what my style is.”

“Then we find it today!” Isaak said as the door knocked and breakfast was wheeled in. “We’ll go shopping.”

Kate sat up as the lights were turned on and then Isaak did the nicest thing, he pulled up the sheet and covered her and glancing down she saw that her breast had fallen out of the lacy nightdress.

She sat in bed, and the butler asked if they wanted the table set up.

“
Non
…” Isaak broke into fluent French and a tray was delivered to her lap and his.

He gave more orders and with her rusty schoolgirl French, she recognized what he was saying about tidying the bathroom and picking up the pearls later and a few other things that she could not make out. Then they were alone.

“We can eat at the table if you prefer,” Isaak said. “I thought it might look a bit strange if I said to him…”

“Here’s fine,” Kate smiled.

It actually was.

That he had saved her from a blushing moment with the butler, that he didn’t seem angry in the least about last night, had her feeling safer. And the bed was sooo comfortable after a night spent on a sofa.

“What’s this?” Kate asked as she went for her coffee and saw a thick creamy envelope addressed to her.

“I booked a day in the spa for you,” Isaak said. “I thought it would be nice for you to relax after the wedding, but I just changed it to tomorrow so that we can go shopping.”

“You didn’t have to change it,” Kate said looking through the brochure and seeing the treatments. Kate didn’t really like massages; she could never quite relax, though it was so thoughtful of him to have organised it for her that she chose not to say. “Today will be fine.”

“Tomorrow rain is expected, so it works out better. We can enjoy the sunshine today.”

*

They did.

Very possibly it was one of the nicest days of her life.

She left the hotel in white linen capri pants with a lemon top and a knot of anticipation in her stomach wondering how she would return.

Isaak, dressed in black jeans and a dark grey top looked effortlessly stunning and, as it turned out, was very good to shop with.

He chatted with the gorgeous assistants and then sat there patiently as Kate was brought out dress after dress, top after top and he translated suggestion after suggestion.

“When did you learn French?” Kate asked from the inside of a changing room as she pulled on a pale lilac dress.

“After I learned English,” Isaak said from the other side of the curtain, “I started to do some business here.”

“Any other languages?” Kate asked pulling the curtain back.

“Du bist sehr sexy.”
Isaak smiled, telling her in German how hot she looked and Kate started to laugh.

“I do actually like this,” Kate admitted. It just fit so well, though it was a touch short perhaps.

“Wear it now,” Isaak said.

“It needs stockings.”

“It so does not need stockings,” Isaak shook his head.

“My legs have been tucked in boots all winter…”

“Then they deserve a day out.”

He gestured to the assistant to take off the security tabs.

“Onward.”

Boutique after boutique, they visited and slowly she honed in her style. Lilacs, purples and deep, deep reds. And then Isaak held up a little black dress.

A very little black dress.

“Try,” Isaak suggested.

Crushed velvet, it felt like she was squeezing into a tube and it was so low at the back that she had to take off her bra to get the proper effect. When she did up the halter neck, Kate realised just how gorgeous the dress was. She had a bust, a waist, and it gave her curves, and it if wasn’t for the acres of white flesh on show, she might have adored it.

Isaak did.

“I don’t think it suits me.”

“It does,” Isaak said, standing behind her as she looked in the mirror.

“I thought we were looking for
my
style.”

“You don’t like it?” Isaak checked. “Then don’t get it.”

“I do like it,” Kate smiled at him in the mirror, not that Isaak noticed. He was shamelessly staring at her reflection, his eyes lingering on her breasts. Somehow, though he was looking at glass, his gaze warmed and made her terribly aware of them. She could feel the strain of her nipples and her breasts felt heavy with only the loose support of the dress.

“Isaak!” Kate scolded.

“What?” In the mirror, he caught her eyes and smiled. “I wasn’t looking directly at them—I wouldn’t be that rude.”

Kate looked at her reflection again, hopefully with a more open mind. It was actually very beautiful, or was it that Isaak made her look at herself in very different ways. “I think it’s a bit much, or rather it’s a bit little.”

“What would your mother say?” Isaak asked and Kate let out a short rapid burst of laughter.

“Oh, I can guess.”

“Is she here now?”

Kate shook her head. “No.”

“Do you want the dress?” Isaak said and now he wagged a finger at her, though it made her smile. “It’s entirely up to you but a year from now, I swear you will be regretting the day you were in Paris and said no to the dress.”

A year from now.

Kate frowned because a year from now this would all be over and so she nodded.

“Yes, then.”

Apart from the lilac dress that she was wearing, the rest of her purchases were all to be delivered to the hotel and at lunchtime, they sat outside a café, the coffee turning to wine as her legs freckled in the sun.

“It’s been fun,” Kate smiled.

“It has,” Isaak agreed. “It has been a very long time since I have had any time off.”

“And me,” Kate said. “It’s completely my own fault—I love my work, and I choose to work through my lunch breaks and stay late, it’s just nice to…” She didn’t really know what to say. Was it that she was outside on a beautiful day? Was it that she was in the present rather than delving into history? She stopped and thought for a moment, took in the gorgeous aromas from the bistro, the sounds of children laughing and lovers chatting and then she looked over at Isaak, relaxed and enjoying their long lunch, relaxed and seemingly enjoying her company and it was a moment she would never forget. “It’s just nice to be here,” she said finally.

It was.

“Are you happier today than you were yesterday?”

“Yes,” Kate admitted. “I never expected to be enjoying myself especially after last night. I truly am sor—”

“Kate, can we not go there again,” Isaak interrupted. “I was very angry last night but when I thought about it, I can understand why you may think like that. If you know anything of my family history, then you will know that my father and his father before him were not the kindest of men.”

He watched the colour suffuse her cheeks and misinterpreted it for embarrassment at the subject matter. “Come on,” he said, draining the last of his drink, “let’s wander.”

There was nowhere more beautiful than Paris in springtime and Kate wasn’t sure if it was for show when he took her hand, but whatever it was, she liked the feel of his hand there, the way he guided her through the streets and how, when she spoke, he would squeeze her fingers, or lift her hand higher if something she said made him laugh.

“It’s so beautiful,” Kate said as they wandered around the Garden of Palais Royal, and as they sat down on the grass near the fountain, Kate just took it all in. “It’s far more beautiful than I remember.”

“How many times have you been?”

“I came here with school,” Kate said, “and then with my mother just after my father died, I was sixteen…” she wrinkled up her nose at the memory of that time. “I went for a walk and got lost and I ended up in Pigalle…”

Isaak raised his eyebrows, because Paris’s red-light district would be a very seedy place to find yourself at sixteen, especially a sixteen-year-old Kate.

“What did you do?”

“Panicked!” Kate said and she closed her eyes as she returned to the wretched memory of that time. All the near-naked women in windows and the XXX clubs and bouncers inviting her to come in for free wine. Somehow she had got back to the hotel shaken and crying, and her mother had asked just where the hell she’d been and Kate had been too scared to admit she’d simply got lost.

“It wasn’t the best time,” Kate admitted. “I probably overreacted, but I was so upset over my father and so confused about—” She certainly wasn’t going to tell him what she was confused about. “Other things.”

“You still miss your father?” Isaak asked, sensing that she wanted the subject changed.

“I do,” Kate said. “He really was the kindest, sweetest man.”

“So, what did he see in your mother?” Isaak asked with a slight roll of his tongue in his cheek, for at the wedding he had not taken to Kate’s mother in the least.