Lucy Gordon - A Convenient Wedding

Muttering dire curses, Meryl braked. The car responded sluggishly and the gap between her and the stranger narrowed with alarming speed.

‘Move!’ she shrieked, swerving madly and missing him by a whisker. He hadn’t budged.

She vaulted out of the car and placed herself in front of him, furious, terrified and soaked by the downpour. ‘Have you got a death wish?’ she yelled. ‘What’s the idea of just standing in front of me?’

‘The idea was that you should stop,’ he yelled back against the wind.

‘I tried to. It’s an unfamiliar car. I only hired it this morning.’

‘And you didn’t check the damned brakes.’

‘I did check the brakes. They worked perfectly at the airport.’

‘Then I guess the firm saw you coming.’

She breathed hard. ‘I’ll pass over your rudeness, but I do want to know why you just stood in my path when you must have seen I was having trouble stopping. Why didn’t you get out of the way?’

‘That’s what the world usually does for you, is it? I didn’t move because then you might have driven on, and the road’s under water. I may consider you a total idiot for driving out here in that thing you jokingly call a car, and not dressing properly for these parts, but I don’t want you to drown because I didn’t warn you. Where are you going anyway?’

‘Is that any of your concern?’ she demanded, fighting the crick in her neck. It was infuriating to have to argue with a man so much taller than herself. Meryl could look most men in the eye, but she had to peer right up as this man loomed over her. He was built for looming, too, powerful about the shoulders, with a harsh face and eyes that flashed disagreeably over a slightly hooked nose. He would have been impressive at any time, but from this angle it was like arguing with an enraged bull.

‘It’s my concern if you drive into the sea,’ he snapped. ‘That road doesn’t lead anywhere.’

‘According to the map it leads to Larne Castle.’

‘Well, you can’t go there, so-’

‘Who says I can’t?’

He made a tearing movement at his hair which the rain was plastering to his skull. ‘It’s not open to tourists,’ he yelled over the storm.

‘I am not a tourist!’

‘Then why are you turning up out of the blue?’

‘Who says I’m out of the blue?’

‘I know this-nobody is expecting you.’

‘Oh, yes, they are-well, in a sort of way-maybe not today exactly-hell! Why am I telling you? I am going to Larne Castle.’

‘How? Swim?’

‘Over the bridge.’

The grinding of his teeth was audible even above the storm. ‘Will you listen to me? There is no-’

‘I’ll show you. The map’s just over here in my-why are there two Alsatians sitting in my car?’

‘Out!’ the man yelled and the two vast animals obediently jumped out.

‘That’s it!’ Meryl seethed. ‘I’m getting out of here before I start seeing things-if I’m not seeing them already.’

‘Fine. Turn back.’

‘Don’t give me orders. I’m continuing my journey, and if you stand in front of me again I shall drive over you.’

She thought she heard him mutter, ‘On your own head be it,’ but she couldn’t be certain because she was already speeding on her way.

MERYL put her foot down. This was one journey she wanted to get finished, fast.

The man had seemed strangely familiar with the castle and its concerns, and it briefly crossed her mind that he might be Lord Larne himself, but she dismissed the thought. That ill-tempered curmudgeon had never written the letter that had charmed her. Probably a family retainer.

She could see where she was going now, the shore lights, and far beyond them the lights of some huge building that must surely be Larne Castle. Straight ahead for the bridge. She squinted, trying to detect the start of the railings. With her attention thus occupied she didn’t realise how far she’d driven until she found herself surrounded by water.

‘I’m in the sea,’ she said, aghast. ‘Where’s the bridge?’

But there was no bridge, only a causeway, fast vanishing under the incoming tide. With horror she saw that the shore was fifty yards behind her. The waves were swelling strongly, and a sickening lurch warned her that her little car wasn’t built for this.

She couldn’t go back. It would have meant trying to turn the vehicle and she didn’t know if the causeway was wide enough. Besides, retreat wasn’t in her nature. She must get ahead as fast as possible. The water had covered the road by only a few inches, and she could just about discern it.

But it grew harder and harder to hold her course. She slammed her foot down, trying to force her way through, but the next moment a huge wave lifted her off the ground, sweeping her sideways, and suddenly she was right off the causeway and sinking.

She tore at her seat belt and just managed to get it open as the car went down. Then she was free, dog paddling like crazy, with no idea where she was.

‘Here! Over here!’

The voice came from behind her, and she struggled around to see the man who’d stopped her back on the road. He was waving the torch to attract her attention.

‘It’s not too deep,’ he yelled. ‘You should be able to touch down, a beanpole like you.’

She managed to feel the ground with the tips of her toes, but then another wave tore at her, pulling her out to deeper water. She went down, struggling madly, came up gasping and tried to cry out. But water filled her mouth as she went down again. The man had vanished from the causeway. Rage filled her. He’d left her to drown.

‘Where are you?’ His voice came from nearby.

‘Here!’ she screamed as the current yanked her further out to sea.

But then-oh, the relief as something that felt like a steel hawser went around her waist, holding her steady against the worst the water could do!

‘It’s all right. I’ve got you,’ said a voice she recognised.

Now she could make out details of him. Before diving in he’d yanked off his heavy overcoat and sweater. Through the thin, sodden shirt she could feel shoulders like cliffs, the swell of taut muscles beneath her hands, the hardness of a heavy torso against her body.

‘Just keep hold of me,’ he snapped. ‘I’m not releasing you until we’re on land.’

‘Suits me,’ she gasped.

‘But if you’d listened to me in the first place-’

‘Must we talk about that now?’

‘No,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘Later will be better, and I have plenty to say.’

They’d reached the causeway, where he put her hands firmly onto the stones and told her not to move. She couldn’t have moved in any case. She was half frozen. When he’d climbed up he leaned down, reaching out his hand to grasp hers. She seized it with relief and he hauled her up. She achieved a toehold but slipped back almost at once, and felt a powerful arm shoot out and around her waist.

‘Grab me around the neck,’ he yelled.

She did so and felt herself once more drawn against his body, tense with effort. He lifted her until her feet were clear, and then set her down. Her heart was pounding with fear, excitement and sheer annoyance at being rescued by this man of all people. She could never account for the first words that came out of her mouth.

‘Who are you calling a beanpole?’

‘Quit yakking and get in.’ He indicated his own vehicle. It was old and shabby but very heavy, and it was holding its ground against the surging water.

‘I’ve got papers on the front seat,’ he said. ‘You get in the back.’

‘With them?’ She indicated the two Alsatians occupying the rear.

‘They won’t mind.’

She climbed gingerly in and sat squashed up against the two dogs, who welcomed her with delighted yelps and licks.

‘Thank you for rescuing me,’ she said through gritted teeth.

‘Wouldn’t have been necessary if you had any sense,’ he observed.

‘You might have told me there was no bridge.’

‘I tried, but you wouldn’t listen. There’s just the causeway and it’s only above water at low tide. Luckily I was coming this way in any case, so I knew I’d be there to rescue you from your own foolishness.’

‘You’re going to the castle?’

‘Right.’

‘You know Jarvis Larne?’

He gave a brief flickering glance over his shoulder before returning his attention to the road. ‘Is it him you’ve come to see?’

‘Yes, and I wish I hadn’t. I didn’t mean to turn up like this.’

‘You sound as if you’ve come a long way.’

‘I’m American,’ she said, answering the implied question. ‘From New York.’

‘That’s quite a distance to see a man who isn’t expecting you. What’s your business with him?’

His familiarity irked her enough to make her snap, ‘I’m thinking of marrying him, actually.’

The stunned quality of his silence was very satisfying. It was nice to have found something that would shut him up.

‘Would you mind saying that again?’ he said at last.

‘It’s a long story,’ she said, wishing she’d held her tongue. It wouldn’t do for this tale to reach Jarvis Larne before she did. ‘What I’ve just told you is in confidence.’

‘You wouldn’t want your engagement announced prematurely,’ he agreed.

‘Yes, and there are-things to be settled-’ she said delicately.

‘You mean you haven’t proposed to him yet?’

To her annoyance she felt herself reddening. ‘I mean no such thing!’ she said crossly.

‘You have proposed to him. Did he accept?’

‘I’m not going to discuss this with you.’

‘No, it would be better to discuss it with him, wouldn’t it? After all, he might turn you down.’

‘He can’t afford to,’ Meryl said before she could stop herself, and regretted the words instantly.

‘Really? Then you’re probably right not to let him know you’re coming. Why bother with courtesy if you don’t have to?’

‘Now look-!’

‘We’d better leave this for the moment.’

His assumption of authority irked her but she was shivering too much to make a point of it. To her relief they had nearly arrived, and she could just make out the huge bulk of the castle rearing over them. The car was laboriously climbing a steep road that ended in front of a large wooden door. It opened, and an elderly woman came out.

‘Hannah!’ the man called. ‘Will you look after this lady before she freezes to death?’

Meryl got stiffly out of the vehicle and went gladly to where the light and warmth welcomed her.

‘Come you in,’ Hannah called, standing back to let her pass, and shutting the front door behind her.

To Meryl’s dismay the warmth turned out to be largely illusory. The castle was just about warmer inside than out, and that was all that could be said.

‘You need a fire,’ Hannah said, understanding. ‘And you must get out of those wet clothes.’

She showed Meryl into a room lined with old books, where a log fire burned in an old-fashioned grate. Shivering, she hurried into its blessed circle, and stood with her hands held out to the flames until Hannah reappeared with a bathrobe and some towels.

‘Quick, before you get pneumonia,’ she urged.

Thankfully Meryl threw off her drenched clothes and vigorously scrubbed herself dry while Hannah held the bathrobe up to the fire. Hannah took a hand towel and began to rub her hair, clucking sympathetically.

‘What on earth were you thinking to come here in a storm at this hour?’ she murmured.

‘I was thinking of marrying Lord Larne,’ Meryl said through chattering teeth.

‘What was that?’ Hannah sounded startled. ‘He’s never told any of us he was getting married.’

‘Perhaps he just thought it was private.’

‘Not for him,’ Hannah said at once. ‘There are too many people depending on him. If he could find a pot of gold, we’d all rejoice.’ She darted Meryl a sharp look. ‘Would you be a pot of gold, by any chance?’

Meryl chuckled, liking the old woman’s frankness. ‘I might be,’ she said. ‘But don’t count on the marriage. It’s starting to look like one of my crazier ideas.’ She gave a rueful sigh. ‘I’m afraid I have a lot of those.’

Hannah didn’t answer. She was examining the discarded clothes, noting their luxurious quality. ‘I’ll take these to dry,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘You stay by the fire until your room is ready.’

She hurried out and Meryl huddled before the flames, feeling herself thaw out blissfully. The bathrobe was made for someone much larger and could almost have wrapped twice around her slim figure. She tightened the belt, but still had to clutch the edges together at the front.

The room seemed to be a library. Everywhere she saw signs of one-time grandeur declined to shabbiness. The carpet was threadbare, but no more so than the heavy curtains, battling with small success, to shield the rattling windows.