A Convenient Wedding. Lucy Gordon
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further than we thought,’ he sighed.
‘He actually dared warn them off—’ Meryl seethed. ‘Well, there are other banks—’
‘Which he will also have warned off,’ Benedict pointed out.
‘He threatened them with law suits,’ Meryl fumed. ‘Oh, I could—’
The mobile rang again. Benedict got quickly out of the way.
‘Larry,’ Meryl said sulphurously, ‘I’m warning you—’
‘Warn away if it amuses you, my dear,’ came her godfather’s complacent voice down the line. ‘Try your wiles elsewhere if you like wasting your time. Then tell Benedict Steen that he won’t get a cent out of you for the next three years. Bye.’
He hung up.
‘Oh, won’t he?’ Meryl breathed. ‘Right! That’s it! Benedict, how do I get to Yorkshire?’
He stared. ‘You mean tomorrow?’
‘I mean today!’
What on earth was she doing?
And why hadn’t her guardian angel made sure there wasn’t a flight until next morning, thus giving her a night to see sense?
But the angel must have been off duty, because there had been a flight at nine that very evening to Manchester. Before she knew it she was on her way.
A belated attack of conscience had made Benedict try to argue her out of it.
‘You don’t know anything about this place. It’s isolated up there and you’ll be on the edge of the North Sea—gales and—and things.’
‘Stop fussing like an old hen and find me a hotel at Manchester Airport. I’ll need a room if we land at three-thirty in the morning.’
‘England is five hours ahead of us. It’ll be eight-thirty.’
‘Not in here,’ she said, pointing to herself. ‘For me it’ll be the early hours.’
She was glad of her decision when she landed and could zonk out on a comfortable bed. But after only a couple of hours she awoke feeling fine, and a shower followed by a hearty breakfast completed her recovery.
She was humming as she dressed in Benedict’s latest creation, an elegant olive-green trouser suit in a silk mo-hair blend, with a tawny sweater and matching silk scarf.
‘I suppose I should have called Lord Larne first,’ she mused, putting the finishing touches to her make-up. ‘Well, I would have done if I really meant to marry him. As it is, I just had a temper tantrum, and serves me right! Oh, Larry, the things you make me do! This is all your fault!’
Briefly she thought of catching the next flight home, but outside her window the day was glorious, and an adventure beckoned.
At the car rental firm she picked up an open-topped red sports two-seater that reminded her of her beloved car back home. A few minutes getting used to having the steering wheel on the left, and the traffic on the ‘wrong’ side of the road, and she was away on the hundred and twenty miles to Larne.
Driving carefully, she reached York without mishap, and went for meal in an oak-beamed restaurant. As she ate she studied her map, noting that the castle was on a small island just off the coast. But the road travelled straight across the water, so obviously there was a bridge.
She read Lord Larne’s letter again and was charmed by its light-hearted air. He spoke of poverty but with a humorous touch that suggested he might be pleasant to know.
It was getting late when she restarted her journey. By the time she’d reached open country the light was already fading and there was a nip in the air.
The map informed her that she’d reached North York Moor. Luckily there was a clearly marked road across it, and twenty miles would bring her to the coast and the bridge to Larne Castle.
As she headed across the moor the sun vanished and black clouds began to scud across the sky. The road had no lighting, and she soon had to switch on her headlamps. Outside their glowing circle the bleak land stretched away for miles. She was totally isolated, and beginning to feel a tad dismayed. All around her the earth grew blacker and the wind gusted strongly. The light sports car didn’t hold the road well, and the rain was getting heavy now. She stopped and got out to try to put up the top. It stuck.
She became chillingly aware of her isolation in this bleak place, with no sign of life in any direction. Not a light. Nothing. It was like being the last person left alive on earth.
But this was an adventure, right? A headless horseman might come galloping past. Just now even a headless horseman would be welcome company.
‘So what the heck if I’m alone?’ she demanded of the starless sky.
Incurable honesty made her add. ‘And lost. And confused.’
She abandoned the attempt to raise the top and got back into the car. There wasn’t much further to go. But ‘adventure’ was definitely fraying at the edges.
‘How do I get myself into these situations?’ she muttered. ‘Oh, well, it can’t be far now. All I need is a friendly local to direct me.’
Right on cue a torch gleamed just up ahead, and soon she discerned the outline of a very tall man. In the headlamps’ glare she could make out that he was wearing faded, muddy trousers and a leather-patched jacket that had seen better days. Here was the ‘local’ she’d wanted, except that he definitely wasn’t friendly. He planted himself rudely in her path and waited for her to stop.
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