The Bejewelled Bride

‘The only thing I mind is not being able to clean my teeth,’ she admitted.

Opening the nearest cupboard, he produced two cellophane-wrapped courtesy packs each containing a disposable toothbrush and toothpaste. ‘As to all intents and purposes we’re hotel guests, I suggest we borrow a couple of these.’

‘Wonderful.’

He handed her the packs, then carried the lamp and the kettle through to the bathroom and set them down on a shelf.

‘Will you manage at that?’

‘Very well, thank you,’ she said gratefully.

‘Then I’ll leave you to it.’ He went out, closing the door behind him.

Bethany cleaned her teeth in water so cold it almost made them ache, then slipping off her bracelet, washed in half a kettleful of hot water, leaving Joel the other half.

It was so cold in the bathroom she could see her breath on the air, but just the knowledge that he was close at hand made her feel warm inside. Being together like this, she could almost imagine they were married.

When she had finished, she hastened back to the fire to comb out her long dark hair while he took her place in the bathroom.

When he returned he brought the oil lamp, which was on its last expiring glimmer, and the empty kettle.

‘Generous woman,’ he remarked, adding, as he refilled the kettle and lit the gas, ‘I thought you might like a hot drink before we turn in?’

‘I would, please.’

Having washed their two mugs and made coffee, he came to sit beside her again, stretching his long legs towards the hearth.

The lamp flame had finally died, leaving the rest of the room full of shadows and making the circle formed by the flickering fireglow cosy and intimate.

Their coffee finished, she had just taken a breath to ask him about himself when he invited casually, ‘Tell me how you got into the antiques business.’

‘It was something I’d always wanted to do. Though my father is an accountant, he’s always been fascinated by old and beautiful things. A fascination he passed on to me, along with quite a bit of knowledge, so when I left school I got a job with Feldon Antiques in London.’

‘London’s a big place…and I’m quite sure we’ve never met. It’s just…’

Studying her lovely heart-shaped face in the firelight, the long-lashed grey eyes and dark winged brows, the neat nose and generous mouth, the determined chin that added such character, he went on with a half smile, ‘I have the strangest feeling I’ve seen you somewhere before…You have a face I seem to recognize. To remember…’

When, suddenly transfixed and with her heart racing wildly, she just gazed at him, he went on, ‘But perhaps you don’t know the feeling of something half-remembered…?’

As she held her breath a log settled with a rustle and a little explosion of bright sparks.

‘Maybe it was in my dreams that I met you…’ He reached out and ran a fingertip down the curve of her cheek to the little cleft in her chin. ‘Maybe in some dream I’ve kissed your mouth, held you close, made love to you…’

Tracing her lips, he added softly, ‘It’s what I’ve wanted to do since the first moment I saw you…’

Caught up in the magic, she sat quite still while her heart swelled and every bone in her body melted.

‘It’s what I want to do now…’ he added softly and, leaning forward, touched his mouth to hers.

His kiss was like no other she had ever experienced before. It held all she’d ever wanted—the delight, the excitement, the warmth and comfort, the sheer joy of belonging.

As her lips parted beneath his, he deepened the kiss until she was on fire with longing, a quivering mass of sensations even before he rose and, lifting her to her feet, drew her against his firm body.

When, still kissing her, he began to run his hands over her, she leaned into him, making soft little noises in her throat.

Even the feel of the cold air on her skin when he removed her clothes and the coolness of the sheets when he lifted her into bed didn’t break the spell he’d woven.

And when he slid into bed beside her and drew her against the naked warmth of his body it was like coming home.

He was a good lover, strong, masterful, passionate, yet those qualities went hand in hand with skill and caring, a boundless generosity. Not once but twice he sent her sky-rocketing to the stars with an effortless ease, before gathering her into the crook of his arm and drawing her close.

Snuggled against him, all passion spent, her body sleek and satisfied, her mind euphoric, she knew she had never been so wildly happy, so blissfully content. She was with him at last.

Thinking how wonderful it was that he was under the same kind of spell that she was under, that the enchantment was mutual, she slipped into sleep saying a silent but heartfelt prayer of thanks.

When Bethany awoke, just for a second or two she was completely disorientated, then memories of the previous night, of Joel, came crowding into her mind filling her with gladness.

Sighing, she reached out to touch him. The space beside her was empty and cold. Pushing herself up on one elbow, she looked around in the semi-darkness.

There was no sign of him and though her clothes still lay where they had been discarded, his had vanished. But, of course, he would be in the bathroom getting washed and dressed.

The fire, though still in, had burnt low and, her naked body goosefleshing, she got out of bed and began to hurriedly pull on her own clothes.

As soon as she was dressed she piled on some logs and went to draw back the curtains. The fog had cleared but the morning was gloomy and overcast with a sky the colour of pewter.

Wondering what time it was, she glanced at her watch. Almost a quarter past nine.

She grimaced. Tony would be livid. He had made it abundantly clear that if they didn’t need to stay another day he wanted to make an early start back to the great metropolis.

But even the thought of how furious he would be when she turned up so late and with nothing to show for her visit to Mrs Deramack failed to spoil her new-found happiness.

Though, as yet, she still knew little about Joel except that he came from London, they were together at last. Lovers. In love for ever. A glowing future ahead of them.

While she waited for him to emerge, she put the kettle on, rinsed two mugs and spooned instant coffee into them, before going back to the fire.

Reaching for her capacious bag, she flipped it open and started to unzip the compartment that held her comb and cosmetics.

But something—it looked like the corner of a facial tissue—was caught and the zip had jammed, though it had seemed all right the previous night when she had replaced her comb.

And her mobile wasn’t in the pocket she usually kept it in, but no doubt she had been too excited to care where she put it.

A little frown of concentration marring her smooth brow, she worked the zip free, then, having combed her hair, took it up into its usual gleaming coil.

As she clipped it into place, it began to impinge on her consciousness that, apart from the crackle of burning logs and the kettle starting to sing, everywhere was silent. There wasn’t another sound. No movement. No running water. And when she’d put the kettle on it had been cold.

Trying to subdue a sudden, completely unreasonable panic, she went and tapped on the bathroom door. ‘Joel…Will you be long?’

There was no answer.