Page 20 of The Wedding Proposal

Her eyes opened, widening as she uncurled, testing her neck as if she’d put a crick in it. Then she gave him a beautiful, brilliant, languorous smile, just as she used to when she was delighted to wake and find herself beside him.

The smile flew like a missile to his chest and burst inside his heart. He couldn’t look away. Couldn’t unlock his eyes from her mouth, which kept on smiling just for him.

For an instant he thought he was going to be physically unable to resist leaning forward and—

The smile faded. Elle’s expression flicked to one of confusion and she scrambled upright. ‘I’ve got stuff to do. Thanks for waking me.’ She yawned as she dropped her feet to the floor, face flushing as she lost a flip-flop and fumbled over retrieving it.

‘No problem,’ he said gruffly, watching her take three attempts to slide her high-arched foot between the straps and beads. With another smile — a small, wary one this time — she disappeared down the steps in the direction of the cockpit.

Lucas sat where he was until normal rhythm returned to his heart.

* * *

When Elle set off for the Nicolas Centre in the morning her step was light. After spending ten minutes learning some more Maltese phrases, she’d spent much of the previous evening on the cockpit seat with pad and pen, insects buzzing companionably around the light as she drew up plans for maximising the efficiency of the computer room at Nicolas Centre. It might not be everybody’s cup of tea because, well, not everyone found IT fun, but to her it didn’t even feel like a job. There might be no huge corporation’s work practices hinging on her actions, and she was used to controlling a budget of considerably more than a few euros, but she was beginning to find making something out of so little a challenge. Bringing order out of chaos was satisfying.

Arriving at the centre, she breezed across the courtyard and past the dry fountain. The door stood open and she was through it and into Joseph’s office in a few steps. ‘Can I talk to you—?’ she began. ‘Oh. Sorry.’

Two men were seated in Joseph’s office. Both rose, and she recognised them as her fellow volunteers from their pictures on the noticeboard in the lounge.

Oscar, the one with sandy hair, was possibly the tallest man Elle had ever met. He seemed entirely made up of gangle. Arms and legs straight, back long, he towered over her.

Dark-eyed Axel, probably of above-average height, looked short next to Oscar. His hair was brushed straight back, accentuating a tall forehead.

‘Well, hi.’ Oscar stuck out a large hand. ‘And you are our new lady, from England.’ He spoke English fluently, though with a breathy Dutch accent. ‘Please won’t you sit?’ He pulled up a chair.

Axel’s German accent was harder and more deliberate, as if he needed to check every word. ‘Welcome to Nicholas Centre.’

Oscar seemed a lot more interested in Elle than in continuing the meeting that had been in progress and led the conversation into a swapping of information about roles and nationalities. She felt uneasily conspicuous under his intent gaze.

In contrast, Axel was quiet. He frowned at Oscar from time to time, as if pained by the Dutchman’s heavy humour and blasts of laughter.

Joseph brought Oscar to a halt. ‘We are discussing the under-11s’ five-a-side football match on Saturday, Elle, but I could meet with you when we’ve finished?’

Elle jumped up. ‘Fine. I’ll go up and start.’

‘But you leave us too soon,’ protested Oscar, patting her chair as if to tempt her to take her seat again.

Ignoring this clumsy playfulness, Joseph fished the computer room keys from his desk. ‘I’ll follow you up in a few minutes.’

Elle ran up the stairs and it wasn’t long before she was engrossed in assessing the router, the speed of the broadband and the various operating systems on each machine, checking out the sizes of the hard drives and how full they were, shaking her head that the machines were automatically logged in and all users had administrative rights. Then, as Joseph hadn’t made an appearance, she signed into her e-mail and found a message from Simon.

From: Simon.Rose

To: Elle.Jamieson

Subject: Forgiven me for my meddling, yet?

Elle,

As I said on the phone, I’m deeply sorry. I see now that I did a completely stupid thing. If you want me to make Lucas quit the boat, I will do. Tell me if you need me to give him shit.

Apart from awkward living arrangements, how are you liking Malta? And how are Loz and Davie? I know you’ll love them.

Much love,

Simon. xxx *penitent face*

Elle replied.

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