скачать книгу бесплатно
A Groom Worth Waiting For
Sophie Pembroke
Under the Tuscan sun…It's everything Thea has ever dreamed of. A Tuscan wedding, the perfect dress, a handsome groom…and her wedding will unite two families in more than business. So why is it only when her groom's brother Zeke Ashton arrives that things start feeling right?Watching the woman he once loved sacrifice her happiness for duty is impossible. Zeke has to remind her of the carefree, happy girl she once was before she says "I do" if Thea–or he–is ever to have a chance at happiness….
‘You stayed because other people told you it was the right thing to do. Because you knew it was what your father would want and you’ve always,alwaysdone what he wanted.’
He took a breath. ‘But mostly you stayed because you were too scared to trust your own desires. To trust what was between us. To trust me.’
The air whooshed out of Thea’s lungs. ‘That’s what you believe?’
‘That’s what I know.’
‘You’re wrong,’ she said, shifting slightly away from him.
Angling his body towards her, Zeke placed one hand on her hip, bringing him closer than they’d been in eight long years. ‘Prove it.’
‘How?’
‘Tell me you don’t still think about us. Miss us being together. Tell me you don’t still want this.’
Thea started to shake her head, to try and deny it, but Zeke lowered his mouth to hers and suddenly all she could feel was the tide of relief swelling inside her. His kiss, still so familiar after so long, consumed her, and she wondered how she’d even pretended she didn’t remember how it felt to be the centre of Zeke Ashton’s world.
A Groom Worth
Waiting For
Sophie Pembroke
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
SOPHIE PEMBROKE has been dreaming, reading and writing romance for years—ever since she first read The Far Pavilions under her desk in Chemistry class. She later stayed up all night devouring Mills & Boon
books as part of her English degree at Lancaster University, and promptly gave up any pretext of enjoying tragic novels. After all, what’s the point of a book without a happy ending?
She loves to set her novels in the places where she has lived—from the wilds of the Welsh mountains to the genteel humour of an English country village, or the heat and tension of a London summer. She also has a tendency to make her characters kiss in castles.
Currently Sophie makes her home in Hertfordshire, with her scientist husband (who still shakes his head at the reading-in-Chemistry thing) and their four-year-old Alice-in-Wonderland-obsessed daughter. She writes her love stories in the study she begrudgingly shares with her husband, while drinking too much tea and eating homemade cakes. Or, when things are looking very bad for her heroes and heroines, white wine and dark chocolate.
Sophie keeps a blog at www.sophiepembroke.com (http://www.sophiepembroke.com), which should be about romance and writing but is usually about cake and castles instead.
For Emma, Helen & Mary.
Contents
Cover (#u281c6d61-57c7-53e6-a37b-5cf9aa10b7e9)
Introduction (#u97269f36-fe16-5184-8a1a-11a214c2835a)
Title Page (#ua3705198-8f84-5ab7-9a11-e6b977402bdc)
About the Author (#u5497e37c-4fce-5b4e-a031-f83effbbab1f)
Dedication (#u783b7d34-bccc-51d5-8622-2214baf40a6a)
CHAPTER ONE (#u38288f3c-db47-516c-9781-f1b70ffec905)
CHAPTER TWO (#ufdc13636-7690-57b4-b8ac-264f2ccbd04f)
CHAPTER THREE (#ub39ca734-1a4e-5566-ace5-ab433586fabf)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u535e8eb3-be18-504a-aede-49fdf1d37206)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EXTRACT (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_173b318a-47d1-5fe8-b533-949b81ead8d3)
‘WHAT DO YOU MEAN, he’s coming here?’ Thea Morrison clasped her arms around her body, as if the action could somehow hide the fact that she was wearing a ridiculously expensive, pearl-encrusted, embroidered ivory wedding dress, complete with six-foot train. ‘He can’t!’
Her sister rolled her big blue eyes. ‘Oh, calm down. He just told me to tell you that you’re late to meet with the wedding planner and if you aren’t there in five minutes he’ll come and get you,’ Helena said.
‘Well, stop him!’
No, that wouldn’t work. Nothing stopped Flynn Ashton when he really wanted something. He was always polite, but utterly tenacious. That was why his father had appointed him his right-hand man at Morrison-Ashton media. And why she was marrying him in the first place.
‘Get me out of this dress before he gets here!’
‘I don’t know why you care so much,’ Helena said, fumbling with the zip at the back of the dress. ‘It’s not like this is a real wedding anyway.’
‘In two days there’ll be a priest, a cake, some flowers, and a legally binding pre-nup saying otherwise.’ Thea wriggled to try and get the strapless dress down over her hips. ‘And everyone knows it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride in the wedding dress before the big day.’
It was more than a superstition, it was a rule. Standard Operating Procedure for weddings. Flynn was not seeing this dress a single moment before she walked down the aisle of the tiny Tuscan church at the bottom of the hill from the villa. Not one second.
‘Which is why he sent me instead.’
Thea froze, her blood suddenly solid in her veins. She knew that voice. It might have been eight years since she’d heard it, but she hadn’t forgotten. Any of it.
The owner of that voice really shouldn’t be seeing her in nothing but her wedding lingerie. Especially since she was marrying his brother in two days.
Yanking the dress back up over her ivory corset, Thea held it tight against her chest and stared at him. ‘I thought you weren’t coming.’ But there he was. Large as life and twice as... Hell, she couldn’t even lie in her brain and finish that with ugly. He looked...grown up. Not twenty-one and angry at everything any more. More relaxed, more in control.
And every inch as gorgeous as he’d always been. Curse him.
Helena laughed. ‘Eight years and that’s all you have to say to him?’ Skipping across the room, blonde hair bouncing, she wrapped her arms around him and pressed a kiss against his cheek. ‘It’s good to see you, Zeke.’
‘Little Helena, all grown up.’ Zeke returned the hug, but his gaze never left Thea’s. ‘It’s good to see you too. And rather more of your sister than I’d bargained on.’
There was a mocking edge in his voice. As if she’d planned for him to walk in on her in her underwear. He wasn’t even supposed to be in the country! Flynn had told her he wouldn’t come and she’d been flooded with relief—even if she could never explain why to her husband-to-be. But now here Zeke was, staring at her, and Thea had never felt so exposed.
She clutched the dress tighter—a barrier between them. ‘Well, I was expecting your brother.’
‘Your fiancé,’ Zeke said. ‘Of course. Sorry. Seems he thought I should get started with my best man duties a few days early.’
Thea blinked. ‘You’re Flynn’s best man?’
‘Who else would he choose?’ He said it as if he hadn’t been gone for eight years. As if he’d never taunted Flynn about not being a real Ashton, only an adopted one, a fall-back plan. As if he hadn’t sworn that he was never coming back.
‘Anyone in the world.’ Quite literally. Flynn could have appointed the Russian Prime Minister as his best man and Thea would have been less surprised.
‘He chose his brother,’ Helena said, giving Thea her usual are you crazy? look. She’d perfected it at fifteen and had been employing it with alarming regularity ever since. ‘What’s so weird about that?’
Helena hadn’t been there. She’d been—what? Sixteen? Too young or too self-absorbed to get involved in the situation, or to realise what was going on. Thea had wanted to keep it from her—from everybody—even then. Of course with hindsight even at sixteen Helena had probably had a better idea about men than Thea had at eighteen. Or now, at twenty-six. But Helena had been dealing with her own issues then.
‘So, you’re here for the wedding?’ Thea said.
Zeke raised his eyebrows. ‘What else could I possibly be here for?’
She knew what he wanted her to say, or at least to think. That he’d come back for her. To tell her she’d made the wrong decision eight years ago and she was making a worse one now. To stop her making the biggest mistake of her life.
Except Thea knew full well she’d already made that. And it had nothing to do with Zeke Ashton.
No, she had her suspicions about Zeke’s return, but she didn’t think he was there for her. If he’d come back to the family fold there had to be something much bigger at stake than a teenage rebellion of a relationship that had been dead for almost a decade.
‘I need to get changed.’
Keeping the dress clasped tight to her body, Thea stepped off the platform and slipped behind the screen to change back into her sundress from earlier. She could hear Helena and Zeke chatting lightly outside, making out his amused tone more than the words he spoke. That was one thing that hadn’t changed. The world was still a joke to him—her family most of all.
Hanging the beautiful wedding dress up carefully on its padded hanger, Thea stepped back and stared at it. Her fairytale dress, all sparkle and shine. The moment she put it on she became a different person. A wife, perhaps. That dress, whatever it had cost, was worth every penny if it made her into that person, made her fit.
This time, this dress, this wedding...it had to be the one that stuck. That bought her the place in the world she needed. Nothing else she’d tried had worked.
Shaking her head, Thea tugged the straps of her sundress up over her shoulders, thankful for a moment or two to regroup. To remind herself that this didn’t change anything. So Zeke was there, lurking around their Tuscan villa. So what? He wasn’t there for her. She was still marrying Flynn. She belonged with Flynn. She had the dress; she had the plan. She had Helena at her side to make sure she said, wore and did the right thing at the right time. This was it. This villa, this wedding. This was where she was supposed to be. Everything was in its right place—apart from Zeke Ashton.
Well, he could just stay out of her perfect picture, thank you very much. Besides, the villa was big enough she probably wouldn’t even notice he was in residence most of the time. Not a problem.
Sandals on, Thea smoothed down her hair and stepped back out. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with the wedding planner to attend.’
‘Of course,’ Zeke said, with that infuriating mocking smile still in place. ‘We wouldn’t dream of delaying the blushing bride.’
Thea nodded sharply. She was not blushing.
She’d made a promise to herself eight years ago. A decision. And part of that decision meant that Zeke Ashton would never be able to make her blush again.
That part of her life was dead and buried.
Just two days until the wedding. Two more days—that was all. Two days until Thea Morrison got her happily-ever-after.
‘In fact,’ Zeke said, ‘why don’t I walk you there? We can catch up.’
Thea’s jaw clenched. ‘That would be lovely,’ she lied.
Two days and this miserable week would be over. Thea couldn’t wait.
* * *
She barely looked like Thea. With her dark hair straightened and pinned back, her slender arms and legs bronzed to the perfect shade of tan...she looked like someone else. Zeke studied her as she walked ahead of him, long strides clearly designed to get her away from his company as soon as physically possible.
Did she even remember the time when that had been the last thing she’d wanted? When she’d smile and perform her hostess duties at her father’s dinner parties and company barbecues, then sneak off to hide out somewhere private, often dark and cosy, with him...? Whoever she’d pretended to be for their parents—the good girl, the dutiful daughter—when they were alone Zeke had seen the real Thea. Seen glimpses of the woman he’d always believed she’d become.
Zeke shook his head. Apparently he’d been wrong. Those times were gone. And as he watched Thea—all high-heeled sandals, sundress and God only knew what underneath, rather than jeans, sneakers and hot pink knickers—he knew the girl he’d loved was gone, too. The Thea he’d fallen in love with would never have agreed to marry his brother, whatever their respective fathers’ arguments for why it was a good idea. She’d wanted love—true love. And for a few brief months he’d thought she’d found it.
He’d been wrong again, though.
Lengthening his own stride, he caught up to her easily. She might have long legs, but his were longer. ‘So,’ he asked casually, ‘how many people are coming to this shindig, anyway?’
‘Shindig?’ Thea stopped walking. ‘Did you just call my wedding a shindig?’
Zeke shrugged. Nice to know he could still get under her skin so easily. It might make the next couple of days a little more fun. Something had to. ‘Sorry. I meant to say your fairytale-worthy perfect day, when thou shalt join your body in heavenly communion with the deepest love of your heart and soul. How many people are coming to that?’
Colour rose in her cheeks, filling him with a strange sense of satisfaction. It was childish, maybe. But he wasn’t going to let her get away with pretending that this was a real, true love-match. It was business, just like everything else the Morrisons and the Ashtons held dear.
Including him, these days. Even if his business wasn’t the family one any more.
‘Two hundred and sixty-eight,’ Thea said, her tone crisp. ‘At the last count.’
‘Small and intimate, then?’ Zeke said. ‘Just how my father likes things. Where are you putting them all up? I mean, I get that this place is enormous, but still...I can’t imagine your guests doubling up on camp beds on the veranda.’
‘We’ve booked out the hotel down the road. There’ll be executive coaches and cabs running back and forth on the day.’
