LITMIR.BIZ

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glanced at his watch. ‘Very well. I’ll see you downstairs in three minutes.’

      ‘And if I refuse to change?’ she flung at his retreating back.

      He turned in the doorway and regarded her with a slow look that travelled from the toes of her hard-worn trainers to the top of her defiant head, and quite unexpectedly her lips began to burn with the memory of that fierce kiss. Her hand flew to cover her mouth, as if somehow he might be able to tell. He followed the movement and his eyes snapped ominously. ‘I’ll change you myself,’ he said abruptly. ‘Anything else?’

      ‘I...’ She tried to speak, but the word came out as little more than a hoarse croak. She cleared her throat, but he wasn’t interested.

      ‘No? Two and a half minutes.’ Then he was gone.

      And she made it, adding a dashing straw hat for good measure, and drawing on a pair of white lace gloves as she raced to the head of the stairs. Having decided to change, there was no point in being half-hearted about it. Then, as he heard her and turned, she slowed and sauntered down as if she had had all the time in the world. Noah’s face was in shadow, so even if she cared she could not have seen his expression.

      ‘Now we’ll go and say goodbye to Olivia and James,’ he said firmly.

      ‘I’m sure they won’t notice one way or the other,’ she said, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice.

      ‘Would you have it any other way?’ It was a rebuke, and it brought hot little patches of colour to Lizzie’s cheeks. ‘But then, if Peter Hallam had flung himself into your willing arms instead of spoiling the perfect scenario by arriving with his brand-new wife, you wouldn’t have been noticing much either, would you?’

      ‘How can you be so beastly?’

      ‘It takes years of practice,’ he assured her.

      ‘Don’t be so modest, Mr Jordan,’ she said fervently. ‘You clearly have a natural talent for it.’

      His brows rose a fraction. ‘Careful, Miss Sweetness. Your claws are showing.’

      ‘Miss Sweetness’? What was that supposed to mean? She clenched her teeth, determined not to rise to such an obvious attempt to bait her. Why on earth did the man have to be so unpleasant? Even if Olivia had told him that she had tried to interfere with the wedding plans, surely he must know what his sister was like? It wasn’t her fault, so why was she attracting such venom from the man?

      But he was right about one thing. Despite the fact that her father had barely spoken to her since her attempt to open his eyes, she wouldn’t make things worse between them. None of this was his fault. And he had misery enough in store.

      So she took a deep breath and braced herself, knowing that there must be pitying speculation about her feelings since Peter’s arrival with his new bride. Every bead would turn as she made her way across the lawn. So she had better be smiling. Noah took her arm and tucked it into his, holding it there when she would have pulled away.

      ‘Forget any plans you have to make a scene, Elizabeth, or, I promise you, I will put you over my knee and spank you.’

      Startled, she turned to stare at him. What did he think she was going to do—fling herself down on the grass and drum her heels like a spoilt child who’d lost her dolly? ‘I’d just like to get this over with,’ she said. ‘As quickly as possible.’

      But Noah refused to be hurried. Despite his insistence that they were short of time, he stopped to shake hands and say goodbye to a number of new acquaintances, and she was able to witness at first hand his undoubted charisma. By the time he delivered her to her father she was certainly the object of considerable speculation. But pity had nothing to do with it.

      How was it, everyone clearly wanted to know, that little Lizzie French was leaving the wedding on the arm of the one man that every other woman would have given her eye-teeth to be with?

CHAPTER TWO

      JAMES FRENCH turned as his daughter approached. ‘Lizzie, there you are. Are you leaving now?’ he said, a little awkwardly.

      She wanted to fling her arms about his neck and hug him—longed to be able to tell him how happy she was for him, but the lie would stick in her throat. Lord, how she wished that she hadn’t overheard that conversation.

      ‘Noah has explained about the honeymoon having to be cancelled,’ she said stiffly, turning quickly as she saw the painful reproach in his eyes. ‘If you’d told me sooner, Olivia, I could have arranged...’ She lifted her shoulders in a tiny shrug. ‘But there’s plenty of food in the freezer. You won’t starve.’

      ‘Olivia has arranged a hamper...’ James French took hold of his new wife’s hand and squeezed it reassuringly. ‘She’s been quite amazing.’

      ‘Amazing,’ Lizzie agreed dully. She had helped, encouraged, supported her father for the better part of five difficult years, until the long black tunnel of depression he had been living in had begun to open out and he had been able to begin to work again, to live again. But Olivia had picked up the telephone and ordered a hamper from Fortnum’s and she was ‘amazing’. Well, Olivia would soon discover that life at Dove Court was not the bed of roses that she had obviously imagined.

      The object of her speculation was talking quietly to Noah. ‘I know it’s a lot to ask.’

      ‘It’s no trouble. Just forget about everything but yourself and James.’ Noah caught Lizzie’s blue eyes regarding him sceptically and he straightened. ‘Shall we go?’ he said abruptly.

      ‘If you’re quite ready,’ she murmured, and reluctantly submitted to the hollow ritual of cheek-kissing.

      ‘Lizzie...’ Olivia hesitated for just a moment under her expressionless eyes, then shook her head. ‘Nothing. Just...enjoy yourself,’ she urged. ‘You haven’t had much fun...’

      ‘Fun’. The word rang tauntingly in her ears as they made their way back to the house.

      ‘Noah...’ Olivia had followed them, and her summons made him pause and turn.

      ‘Get in the car, Elizabeth. I’ll be with you in a minute.’

      She made her way towards the vintage drophead Bentley, gleaming silver, its top down in the glorious summer sunshine. Her pink dress lay on the back seat along with Noah’s top hat. He was welcome to it.

      She kept walking until she was in the cooler shade of the garage. Her car was at the far end and she climbed in, fitted the key and turned it. The engine obediently whirred, but did not catch. She tried again. Shock was beginning to overtake her. She was trembling, and her fingers slipped on the key as she tried for the third time to start the car.

      The door beside her opened and she leaned back in the driving seat, admitting defeat. ‘What have you done?’ she asked.

      ‘Anticipated your every move.’ Noah leaned against the roof of her Metro and held out a small metal object for her inspection. ‘It’s called a rotor arm. I’m afraid you car won’t start without it.’

      She stared uncomprehendingly for a moment. ‘How did you know?’

      ‘You lied about the luggage. Since you were planning to leave, this was the obvious place to look. I’ve already moved it to my car.’ He stood back, his face expressionless. ‘Shall we go?’

      ‘I’m not going anywhere with you,’ she protested. ‘I’m going to stay with a friend in Islington for a few days until I sort myself out. And I’m perfectly capable of driving myself.’

      ‘Nonsense,’ he snapped. ‘You’re in no condition to drive anywhere.’

      ‘I’m just fine.’

      ‘Really?’ He grasped her wrist and held her hand in front of her eyes. ‘You’re shaking,

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