Page 60 of The Wedding Proposal

‘It was,’ she whispered, sinking against him.

He decided to be pre-emptive in discouraging any elephants to materialise in the room. He felt certain that an elephant could do a lot of damage. ‘And I feel great knowing that you finally found a way to tell me all your bad stuff. Not that it was very bad. You know I’m weird about secrets.’

The sigh she gave might have been imperceptible to anyone who wasn’t holding her so firmly against himself. ‘Yes,’ she agreed, sadly. ‘I know.’

A heartbeat, then she pulled away, her smile in place and her voice bright again. ‘Right, well, I have to run. I want to get to the centre because I have to take time out during the day to talk to Dad and probably The Briars and the hospital. Then I’m working on Seadancer this afternoon. And I’ll talk to Joseph about the Bubblemaker.’

‘Right,’ he said, slowly. ‘Prioritise your mother’s situation. I could visit Joseph tomorrow, as I’ve got the day off, but don’t worry if you’ve got other stuff on your mind.’

‘OK.’ She pressed a quick kiss on his lips. ‘See you later.’ Holding her bag in front of her, she backed away, turned and jumped up the steps, across the saloon and away.

Lucas stared after her. Despite the smile, her expression had been closed.

He didn’t make the coffee. Instead, he locked up the Shady Lady, hauled in the gangplank, called at the cafe across the road for takeaway espresso and a couple of pastizzi, delicious little pastries filled with ricotta cheese. His appetite seemed to have disappeared but he knew better than to dive on an empty stomach.

While he waited for the green pick-up, he took out his phone and reread Charlie’s message. How’s Elle this morning?

He answered: Over the initial shock. But who knows what’s going on in Elle’s mind?

Chapter Nineteen

Elle made her way to the Nicholas Centre. Morning was her favourite time in Malta. The streets were abuzz with people beginning their day and the air felt fresh, as if the dust hadn’t yet begun to rise, making the light more lemon yellow than the heavy gold of sweltering afternoon.

But, more than her journey through the streets, her thoughts this morning were fixed on her pulsing night with Lucas Rose.

She couldn’t wish it hadn’t happened. How could she wish away the dream-come-true of Lucas wanting her again? The fierce joy of reunion sex? The utter untold back-where-she-belonged relief?

For four years her skin had hurt for the want of his touch.

Without even closing her eyes she could summon the hunger in him as he’d driven into her, the lips that had scalded her. The smile that had glistened in his eyes and softened the harsher lines from his mouth.

Just as clear was the memory of the satisfaction and pleasure on his face when she’d spilled so much about Ricky. Her chest tightened. Had she done the right thing? It was more than she’d ever told him. More than she’d ever told anyone.

By unburdening herself to a suddenly empathetic Lucas she’d breached the walls that she’d lived behind. The irony was that she’d let the words bubble out on the premise that it no longer mattered what Lucas thought of her.

Then he’d kissed her and, suddenly, they weren’t as over as she’d thought, and it all began to matter again. Probably more than ever.

Now he’d expect more. Ask more. She’d have this exposed feeling all the time.

You know I’m weird about secrets. The words shivered through her despite the heat from the climbing sun.

Glad at the prospect of a busy morning to occupy her thoughts, she turned into the courtyard at the Nicolas Centre, in shade at this time of day. Her heart sank as she saw Oscar seated on the rim of the dry fountain.

He rose casually enough, but she had little doubt that he’d been waiting for her. ‘Good morning. It is always a good morning for me when I see a beautiful woman like Elle Jamieson.’ He let his eyes travel down her body and up again. ‘Yes. She is beautiful.’

She could have brushed him off by saying, truthfully, that her mother was very ill and she wanted to tell Joseph then fill her time with work until the time difference would allow her to reasonably phone the UK. But that tactic would provide only temporary relief and give him an excuse to pester her with solicitous enquiries about her mother’s progress.

So, instead, she bestowed on him a smile so wide that he blinked. ‘It’s a good morning for me because it followed a very, very, very good night.’ She rounded off her words with a big bawdy wink and had the satisfaction of seeing his jaw drop as she swept by.

Once she was settled in the computer room, time passed slowly. Elle’s attempts at calling her father’s phone resulted only in hearing his decisive voice say, ‘This is Will Jamieson. I can’t take your call but do leave a message.’ It probably meant that he was busy with the hospital and The Briars. She knew the frustrations of being just one of many relatives trying to get information out of busy nurses and waiting for doctors’ rounds to prompt the medical updates.

Despite their tepid relationship, Elle didn’t like to imagine her mother small and defenceless between the crisp white sheets of a metal bed with cot sides. Elle had accepted the role of dutiful daughter until the big Ricky mistake and that habit hadn’t been entirely broken by Joanna setting her affection dial to zero to express her disappointment in Elle’s fallibility.

When the first big stroke had crushed Joanna under its savage heel Elle had rushed to her bedside. Over the next weeks she’d sacrificed her time in order to supervise Joanna’s nursing in recovery, consult with doctors and, ultimately, research and negotiate good residential care. She’d acquired Power of Attorney, chosen the possessions and clothes she thought Joanna would like to have with her in her altered life and deposited her jewellery into the bank’s safe custody. Everything else had been sold to add to Joanna’s bank balance.

Her mother had never recovered sufficiently to understand what was being done for her as her ability to recognise and recall had almost gone, along with speech and mobility. But at least Elle’s conscience re daughterly responsibilities had been clear before leaving England. Though the situation had now changed and she felt an urge to react to that, there was no point flying to her mother’s bedside until she knew that any action she took would be worthwhile.

None of that intellectual reasoning prevented Elle from visiting the websites of Air Malta and Ryanair to check out the ticket situation, discovering availability for the next day, which was Tuesday, and also Friday and Saturday. That only a single seat remained on the Tuesday flight made her twitchy.

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