Bride By Friday

Tessa didn’t stop. She couldn’t. And Charlie, the Earl of Dalston, pulled himself together. He groaned again, but in resignation. Somehow he made it up the steps to haul her in against his broad shoulders, and Tess wept and wept against Charlie-the-lunatic’s shirt for all of two minutes.

She soaked him. Tessa’s tears made a sodden circle against his shoulder, and she didn’t stop howling until the shirt fabric was almost transparent and she could feel the warmth of his skin underneath her cheek.

Somehow she took a ragged breath and pulled away. Charlie allowed her room to back twelve inches, but his hands held her shoulders, his face creased in concern.

‘I... I’m so sorry,’ she managed finally. ‘Really...I I don’t cry.’

‘I can see that,’ he said approvingly and gave her a wry smile. ‘It’s another reason I’ve decided you should marry me. Apart from needing you for self-defence. Some of us earls employ bodyguards. I’ll just keep you around. Here. Have a handkerchief.’

There was nothing to say to that. She really did need that handkerchief.

‘Blow,’ Charlie told her. ‘And before you ask, I don’t want it back.’ His smile deepened. ‘One thing I’ve decided about being an earl, I can afford to be generous with my handkerchiefs.’

Tess sniffed, gave a watery chuckle—and blew. And blew again, while Charlie smiled down at her in gentle concern.

‘Better?’

‘Better.’ Tess emerged from his linen and gave him a wavering smile. ‘I’m sorry. What you must think...’ Her smile faded. ‘Oh, Charlie, your eye...’ She stared up at him with guilt. ‘It’s changing colour already.’

Charlie fingered his bruised face and winced. ‘No matter,’ he said nobly. And winced again. ‘They say you only feel one pain centre at a time and they’re right. Your other area of attack is of more concern. Hell, Tess, what did you think you were doing?’

‘Defending myself,’ she told him, indignation flooding back as she saw the twinkle in his eyes. Drat the man, was he never serious? She looked down the street to where the sleek black car—a Jaguar—was waiting by the kerb. ‘It was you in the car,’ she said accusingly. ‘Waiting m the street like a gangster. You scared me to death!’

‘Yeah, well, you’re not showing any long-term damage.’ Charlie managed another heartfelt groan. ‘Whereas I just may start singing falsetto. Besides, I thought it was your fnend in the hotel who scared you,’ he said mildly. ‘Your friend with the sexy pyjamas.’

‘You saw.’ Tessa was so confused that for a minute she forgot this man was a nutcase. She thought of the pyjamas in question and gave another tearful chuckle. ‘Oh, isn’t he awful? I can’t stay here.’

‘No. You can’t stay here.’ Charlie’s hands came back to grip her shoulders. ‘That’s what I was trying to tell you on the plane. You wouldn’t listen. This address is seedy and this hotel has to be the seediest in the district.’

‘But...’ Tess took a ragged breath and steadied. And pulled away from his hands. ‘Charlie, I’ve paid for it. I can’t...’

‘You can’t have paid very much.’

‘We didn’t. But Donald says...’

‘Donald?’

‘My fiancé.’

Silence.

My fiancé. The word echoed in the silence of the street and Tess bit her lip. She’d had to say it, though. It wouldn’t do this man any harm to know there was a man in her life. A man who cared for her. But Charlie’s eyes were snapping down in a frown. He hauled up her ring finger and held it in the sunlight for inspection.

‘No ring,’ he said accusingly.

‘I don’t have to wear a ring,’ she told him, her voice just a trace unsteady.

‘It’d help. When a man’s looking out for a bride under desperate circumstances...’

‘You mean a man like you.’

‘Yes. A man who needs to be married.’

‘He wants a sign, I suppose.’ Tess glared. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Cameron, but I don’t see why I should wear “claimed” labels just for you.’

‘Doesn’t Donald believe in diamonds?’

‘We’re saving for a house,’ Tess said with asperity. She was back under control now, and growing more indignant by the minute. ‘Now, if you’ve finished the inquisition...’

‘If you were my fiancée, I’d make sure you were wearing a diamond so large every other man could see it for miles,’ Charlie told her ‘I’d be so proud. You’re gorgeous, you’re kind, and you’re a warrior maiden to boot I’d buy you an engagement ring before any bricks and mortar.’

‘Even a castle?’ Tess said before she could help herself, and Charlie had the temerity to grin.

‘Well, who knows? What price a castle?’ And then he leaned over and lifted her baggage. ‘Hell. This weighs a ton. We saw you walk into the street. Walk! What the hell were you doing walking instead of taking a cab?’ And then he sighed and held up a hand. ‘No. Don’t tell me. I know. Donald and his house saving. You know, I’ve decided to take no notice of Donald. You mock my castle and I’ll mock your Donald. Until the man comes charging to rescue you, bearing diamonds, he can be set aside of no import. I’ve decided, Tessa Flanagan, that you need a hero, and I’m it.’

‘I don’t need anything of the kind.’

‘How about an earl?’

‘I especially don’t need an earl.’

‘Well, how about a simple farmer from home?’ Charlie’s voice suddenly gentled and the eyes looking down at her were warm and direct. ‘A farmer with a flat in Belgravia, very close to here. It’s a flat with four bedrooms, one of which is a guest suite.’ And then, as Tessa’s face froze, he smiled and shook his head. ‘And yes, my intentions are far from honourable, but I’ll respect the horrid Donald by making you a promise. You’ll be absolutely safe from all harm in my house, Tessa Flanagan, for however long you stay.’

And he made a signal to the man behind the wheel of the car. The lid of the car’s luggage compartment flipped up and he heaved Tessa’s bag into it.

‘But...I’m not coming with you,’ Tessa stammered.

‘Where are you going, then?’

‘I don’t know. Anywhere!’ Tess looked wildly around the deserted street, but there were no warm and welcoming little cafés within sight. No more hotels. Nowhere she could go and dump her gear.

So what would she do? Would she sit on her suitcase right here and wait until five o‘clock? Or drag her belongings along to Christine’s lawyer?’

Charlie watched the doubts flit across her face and he lifted a hand and touched Tessa’s cheek with a gentle finger.

‘There’s little choice here, Tess,’ he said softly. ‘You can trust me. I swear.’

Tess looked up at him. His eyes were crinkled and kind and absolutely direct.

‘I don’t trust you. How can I? You’re nuts,’ she managed. ‘Do you really have a flat in London?’

‘I really do and it’s quite close,’ he assured her.

‘And it’s yours?’ she asked.

‘It was my uncle’s. Now it seems that it’s mine.’

Tess bit her lip. ‘That must mean your uncle, the twelfth earl.’

‘Clever girl,’ he said approvingly. ‘You’ve worked out the family tree. Now...do you want to trust me?’

Tessa didn’t. She badly didn’t want to trust him. There was something about Charlie Cameron that said she should steer as far away from this man as possible. Lunatic or not, he left her feeling as if her feet weren’t quite steady on the ground.

But the street was sordid and empty, her baggage was heavy and her feet hurt. There were blisters on her palms from carrying the weight this far.

And this man was her only link with home.

What was the worst that could happen here? That he take her to this imaginary castle, lock her with his harem of slaves and keep her for his own personal pleasure?

She looked back at her hotel and her creepy landlord was peering over the newspaper in the front window He was scratching his flabby white chest and scowling, and she just knew that any minute he’d rush out and order her off his filthy front step, or set the dog on her.

She looked up at Charlie and her fear receded. Maybe there was something to be said for harems, after all.

Charlie’s house wasn’t quite a harem but it was a lot closer to a palace than anywhere Tess had ever been before. She’d sat silently in the rear seat of the Jaguar while the driver negotiated London’s early-morning traffic, and ten minutes later they had pulled up outside a place Tess could only describe as a mansion.

She gazed out in astonishment. The house was gleaming white stone, three storeys high, with Gothic columns at the entrance and a vast, overwhelming front door.

‘Before you get the wrong idea, only the top floor’s mine,’ Charlie said quickly, seeing her jaw drop. ‘And there’s no garden. We use the square over the road.’

The square. Tessa turned to see. On the other side of the road was a park, filled with mature trees, lush green lawns and immaculately groomed gardens.

‘There’s ten houses with access,’ Charlie said apologetically. ‘We have to share.’

‘Oh, poor you,’ Tess managed.

‘We bear it,’ Charlie told her, and he grinned. ‘We earls live in hard times. Come on in. Henry will bring in our gear.’

Henry. Tess looked doubtfully at the man in the front seat. He was in his sixties, dapper and trim and dressed in a chauffeur’s uniform. Henry hadn’t said a word the whole time she’d been in the car.

‘This isn’t a hire car?’ she asked cautiously.

‘Well, no. I guess it’s mine. Or it might be mine.’

‘Might?’

Charlie spread his hands. ‘Tess, this is my uncle’s home, my uncle’s chauffeur, my uncle’s lifestyle. He’s left it all to me—conditionally.’

‘Conditionally?’

‘On me being married by the time I’m thirty,’ Charlie told her. ‘That’s in six weeks. So you see why I’m so interested in ladies who don’t sport engagement rings?’ And he gave her his most engaging smile. ‘Now, are you coming into my parlour, said the spider to the fly, or am I leaving you to London’s tender mercies out here on the street?’

He slid his long form out of the car.

There was nothing for Tessa to do but to follow.

The house was as breathtaking as its facade.

The entrance hall was vast, and the lift whisked them to the third floor in silent opulence. The lift was bigger than Tessa’s bedroom at home. Tess was almost too flummoxed to speak.

The lift drew to a silent halt, the doors slid wide and Charlie Cameron was welcomed to his world.

‘Mr Charlie!’ A stout lady, aproned, motherly and beaming goodwill, bustled forward to greet Charlie before he’d stepped out of the lift. ‘Oh, it’s so good to have you home.’ And she enveloped as much as she could of him in an enormous bear hug.

To which Charlie responded in kind. He lifted the little lady high, swung her round so her feet didn’t touch the floor, kissed her soundly and then set her down on the marble tiles. He grinned down at her dimply figure and sighed.

‘It’s good to be here, Mary.’ Then he turned to Tess.

‘Mary, this is Miss Tessa Flanagan. Tessa, this is Mrs Henry Robertson but she only answers to Mary. Mary, Tessa’s from home and she needs a bed. Henry and I found her stranded with her suitcase in Backblow Street and we couldn’t just leave her there, now could we?’

Mary’s bright eyes took in Tessa from the toes up. It was a fast, cursory glance, but it appeared Tess passed inspection. It seemed that this was no stately home with dress requirements to match.

‘Oh, of course you couldn’t,’ Mary said warmly. ‘Backblow Street? What on earth were you thinking of, letting your friends go there, Mr Charlie? It’s a filthy place. Miss Tessa can have the blue room, if you think that’s suitable.’ Then she stared, for the first time focussing properly on Charlie. ‘Mr Charlie, what on earth have you done to your face?’

‘It’s a modern equivalent to a love bite,’ Charlie told her, grinning wickedly at Tess. ‘And that’s not the half of it, Mary. If I told you the full damage, you’d be shocked to the core. Just look after Tess and don’t give her any lip.’

Mary’s eyes widened. She looked from Tess to Charlie and back again—but finally decided she wouldn’t get anywhere with enquiries. She obviously knew Charlie well.

She shrugged and smiled. ‘Well, no matter. You’re always getting yourself into some scrape or another, Mr Charlie. Now, would you like time to wash before you have breakfast?’ she asked Tess. Once again, that kindly, perceptive appraisal. ‘Oh, of course you would, child. In fact, what you look like you need, Miss Tessa, if you won’t take this personally as I’m sure you won’t, is a long, hot bath, up to your neck in bubbles. Does that sound good?’

Good. Good!

Tessa’s face said it all, and Charlie chuckled behind her. ‘Take her away, Mary, and soak her. I’ll look after myself.’ He turned away to go left down the hall but Mary stopped him with a hand on his arm.

‘I’ve put you in your uncle’s room,’ she said softly, watching his face. ‘I thought...’

Charlie’s smile faded. He stood looking down at Mary for a long, long moment. Then he sighed.

‘This is going to be hard, Mary.’

‘It is.’

Charlie closed his eyes. When he opened them, his face was grim. The twinkle had disappeared entirely.

‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Let’s start this now.’

Tessa’s bath was glorious. The bedroom itself was sumptuous, with plush white carpet, a vast, canopied bed and blue and gold curtains over a wall of windows which looked over the square and the rooftops of London beyond.

The en suite bathroom had the same fantastic view, and the bath—which could have accommodated three of Tessa—was amazing.

‘It’s a shame to bathe at night because you need to close the curtains or turn off the Light if you’re not to shock the neighbours,’ Mary told her as she handed her an armload of bath towels. ‘But the good thing about English summer is our lack of night-time. Enjoy your bath, lass.’ And she left her to soak.

Tess soaked. And soaked.

It was the first quiet time Tess had had since she’d heard of Christine’s death. It was the first time her responsibihties and need for organization had eased. The shadow of Christine’s death receded, with the image of Charles Cameron superimposing itself on her thoughts. Tess lay back under the foam, stared up at the ornate plasterwork on the high ceiling and wondered just what she had got herself into.

The image of Charlie Cameron as a lunatic was fading. Henry and the maternal, perceptive Mary seemed dependable and trustworthy, and they formed a respectable backdrop for the man. Tess was almost starting to believe in the earldom. And the castle. Almost.

‘Surely he doesn’t seriously expect to get married in six weeks?’ she asked the ceiling. ‘But then...to lose all this if he doesn’t...’

It was too hard. She drifted in and out of her bubbly haze until Mary’s call pulled her back to reality.

‘That bathwater’ll be getting cold, lass. You pull on a bathrobe and come for breakfast’

A bathrobe.

Tess looked about her warily. She didn’t want to put on her soiled jogging suit again but...

There was a thick white bathrobe hanging from the door. Tess towelled herself dry and examined it with caution.

It was a gorgeous garment. It wrapped completely around her with heaps to spare and came down to her toes. The white towelling was absolutely plain except for a rich purple letter embroidered on the breast pocket.

‘D’.

D for Dalston?

If this was all a hoax then it was some elaborate setup, Tess decided. But...Charlie as an earl? Charles Cameron wasn’t like any earl Tess had ever met.

Tess made a silly face at herself in the mirror, grabbed a comb from her handbag and attacked her washed and tangled curls with force.

Yeah, well, exactly how many earls have you met before, Tessa Flanagan? she asked herself. Heaps and heaps? Or only one? An earl called Charlie. And he’s waiting for you at breakfast. So put some clothes on and go and find him.

Easier said than done. Her clothing had disappeared. Tess came cautiously out into her bedroom to find no sign of her baggage.

There was a pair of soft, fit-all slippers by the bed—also engraved with D. Tess slid them on and padded out into the hall. She was feeling stranger and stranger.

As if she really were in a harem.

‘Any minute now a slave or two will pop out, perfume me and cart me off to the master,’ she said grimly.

‘Hey, I’d like that!’

Tess swung around like a scalded cat. Charlie was standing at the door of the room opposite, dressed in a bathrobe identical to hers.

The master himself. And he’d heard what she had said.

Tess blushed scarlet from the toes up.

‘You don’t need a slave to perfume you. You look cuter than I do in that thing,’ Charlie complained, ignoring her blush. ‘It isn’t fair.’

She might look cuter—but Charlie looked staggeringly male. Charles might be wearing an identical bathrobe to Tessa’s, but on him it looked completely different. The robe only came to Charlie’s knees. His brown legs emerged beneath like solid trunks.

Because the robe didn’t have quite the capacity to wrap round Charlie’s much larger body, his chest was bare to the waist. His chest was tanned, muscled and coated with deep black hair—just like the hair on his head which, wet from his shower or bath, was clinging in damp tendrils across his brow. The strands were just touching the bruise across his eye. Tess hauled back on an almost irresistible urge to brush the strands back. To soothe the hurt...

Ridiculous! She kept her hands strictly to herself.

‘I...I couldn’t find my clothes.’

‘Nor I, mine. If I know Mary, we’ll get them cleaned and pressed whether we want them cleaned and pressed or not.’ Charlie grinned his slow, lazy smile that did funny things to Tessa’s insides. ‘Last time I came here I brought my Dnzabone—the coat I use for mustering cattle back home. It’s useful when I go up north and don’t want to stay indoors. Mary attacked it with force. When I got back to Australia, I was the only cattleman in the country wearing a Drizabone with a starched collar!’

Tessa’s strain eased as the image made her grin. Drizabones were standard wear for Australian farmers—huge, brown waterproof coats that were only valued after they’d been worn in by hard work and grime. To wash one was almost sacnlege. And to starch it...

Charlie chuckled with her and the strain eased some more.

There was a wonderful smell wafting from the end of the hall and Charles was leading her toward it. He held open the door for Tess to precede him, and she brushed against his long body as she passed. Towelling against towelling...

He was so big and so male and... And his feet and legs were bare. And the strain came flooding back! Tess was having all sorts of irrelevant thoughts about what would happen as those bare legs stretched upward...

Good grief! The way she was thinking she almost deserved to be a slave. And she was engaged to Donald!

She fought her mounting colour and tried to concentrate on what was before her. That wasn’t hard. The dining table was groaning under a pile of food.

The table itself was vast, built to seat a dozen or more. The room was ornate and gilt and...

‘And too damned formal for words,’ Charlie growled. ‘What’s wrong with the kitchen, Mary?’

‘You know you only use the kitchen when you come here by yourself,’ Mary told him. ‘Your uncle always uses... used... the dining room.’

‘Well, that’s one way I don’t have to follow in his footsteps.’ Charlie pushed open the double doors. Beyond the dining room lay a kitchen, warm and fragrant with cooking, the vast Aga stove along the far wall a welcome in itself. Infinitely more comfortable than the ornate dining room. ‘We’ll eat in here.’

‘But I’m baking bread.’

‘Then Tess and I will watch you bake as we eat. Not that you need to bake for weeks by the look of this lot.’ He lifted a plate from the table and sniffed m delight. ‘Singing hinnies. Mary, now I know I’m back.’

‘Home,’ Mary said softly. ‘You’re home, my lord. Where you belong.’

‘Mary...’

‘Your place is right here now,’ she told him and her voice grew a little stern, as though she were a nanny reminding a child of his duty. ‘You’re the Earl of Dalston now, my lord. Whether you like it or not.’

CHAPTER THREE

‘SO TELL me how you come to be an Australian earl?’ Tess asked over her second cup of coffee. To her surprise, she’d packed away another vast breakfast.

‘I told you you shouldn’t have eaten the airline breakfast,’ Charlie had told her as she’d looked at her loaded plate in dismay, but in the end it hadn’t made any difference at all. She had been making up for lost time. Now Mary had whisked herself off to supervise unpacking and they were left alone.

It felt weird. It was eleven in the morning and she was sitting in a bathrobe over breakfast with the Earl of Dalston.

With Charlie.

‘You’ve already figured it,’ Charlie told her. ‘My uncle died without issue.’

‘Issue?’

‘Kids.’ He gnnned. ‘Toe-rags. Noisy little blighters who spend all your money. My uncle could never abide them. Or women either. He romanticized marriage—he thought every man should have a wife—but he was too lousy to get one for himself. Even sharing the toothpaste would have made him wince.’

‘He and your father were brothers?’

‘Yep. They were as unalike as two men could be, but brothers for all that.’ Charlie poured himself another coffee and leaned back. ‘As soon as he came of age, Dad took his share of the family fortune and set himself up on a farm in Australia. He married my mom—an American girl—and my uncle decided then that we were completely beyond the pale. Dad died two years ago, without ever having come back to the old country.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be.’ Charlie smiled. ‘My father had a better life than my uncle ever had. He and my mom were very much in love. He died just a few months after she did, and neither of them regretted a thing about their lives. Except maybe not having more children.’

‘There’s only you?’

‘Yep.’

Tess nodded, thinking it through. ‘But... if your father hasn’t been back...how come you’ve been here?’

‘I was heir to the earldom,’ Charlie said simply. ‘My father always knew my uncle wouldn’t marry and my mom and dad taught me what to expect early. They sent me over to stay with my grandparents.’

‘Your grandparents?’

‘My grandfather was the eleventh earl,’ Charlie told her. ‘He died eight years ago. He and I were best of friends. It was only my uncle who couldn’t bear the thought that I’d inherit.’

‘Why?’

‘I broke a Dresden vase when I was nine years old.’ Charlie’s lazy grin flashed out again—magnetic and intense. ‘The dogs and I were chasing my uncle’s cat at the time. A fatter, lazier cat you’ve never seen and I let my grandfather’s hounds into the house, just to stir her. I don’t think my uncle ever forgave me. He thought I was a wastrel and a scoundrel. And totally useless at taking on responsibilities.’

‘And a wife is supposed to cure all that?’

Charlie’s eyes widened. ‘Of course,’ he said blandly. ‘How can it not? If you take me on, how can I help but turn into the epitome of steadiness and sober duty?’

‘It doesn’t sound much fun,’ Tessa said doubtfully, considering. ‘Steadiness and sober duty.’

‘With you it would be.’

‘Charlie...’ Tessa’s colour mounted again. ‘Don’t!’

‘Because of Donald?’

‘Yes, because of Donald,’ she snapped. ‘And a thousand other reasons. The idea is totally crazy.’ She pushed back her cup. ‘Now...I need to find my clothes.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘I have an appointment this afternoon somewhere in Kensmgton. I don’t know where that is and I need to find it.’

‘It’s ten minutes’ walk from here.’

‘Really?’

‘Well, it depends whereabouts in Kensington, but fifteen minutes at the outside.’ Charhe’s eyes didn’t leave hers. ‘I can take you there if you need me.’

‘I don’t. Thank you.’ Good grief, she had to start being independent soon.