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Kendal, with its limestone walls and houses, was busy. They drove straight through, Luke concentrating on his driving. In Windermere she gazed at the blue-grey expanse of the lake, her tension tightening into coils
of fear that slid agonisingly through her stomach. The road circled the lake before climbing steeply into hills so old and weathered by time that Genista caught her breath in awe.
The road seemed to wind for an eternity through woods which she suspected must be heartbreakingly lovely in the autumn before emerging among the hills. The faint baaing of the sheep was the only sound to disturb the stillness of the afternoon. High above in the sky Genista saw a bird hovering motionless.
‘A peregrine falcon,’ Luke told her, following her gaze. ‘There’s a place up here where they train them. There’s a huge export demand for the birds, especially in the Middle East. I suppose there’s something of the pagan in all men which responds to the ultimate primitive thrill of taming so much splendour.’
The knot of fear in Genista’s stomach tightened. It wasn’t hard to imagine one of those proud birds, wings outstretched, fierce claws digging into a leatherbound wrist as Luke fed it raw meat. There was something primitive about him, she thought uneasily; something that refused to be tamed by civilisation. The knowledge unnerved her, and if they hadn’t been on such a deserted stretch of road she might have contemplated trying to escape.
The road dipped suddenly. Below them she could see a small village, the church spire reaching up towards the clouds.
Half a dozen children were playing in the village square, and they scattered when Luke stopped the car, gazing at it with open-mouthed awe.
Despite the fact that the afternoon was mild, Genista felt goosebumps rise up under her skin as Luke helped her out of the car. In silence he led the way to the small vicarage set next to the church.
‘The Vicar here was a close friend of my parents,’ he told her quietly as he opened the garden gate. ‘One wrong word, one glance to show that this marriage is not desired by both of us, and I’ll make tonight something you’ll want to blot out of your mind for the rest of your life.’
Genista shivered, pressing her hand to temples which had begun to ache badly. For some reason Luke seemed to sap all her normal resilience. In his presence she felt as capable as a small child faced with a domineering adult. Mindlessly she allowed him to propel her up the garden path. It was bordered by lavender which smelled heavenly, she noticed absently, and old-fashioned pink roses climbed over the Vicarage walls to mingle with the honeysuckle and clematis.
The door opened before they could reach it, and a plump woman with soft brown hair, touched with grey, and a delighted smile hurried towards them. She embraced Luke first, tilting back her head to stare up at him. She barely reached his shoulder, and there were tears in her eyes as she turned from him to Genista.
‘Oh, Luke, she’s lovely!’ she said emotionally. ‘When John told me you wanted to be married here, I was so thrilled. Luke’s parents were married in this church,’ she told Genista. ‘But I expect you already know that. But you should have given us more warning, Luke.’ Her smile robbed the words of any criticism, and Genista could see that she was very fond of Luke.
‘Amy is my godmother,’ he explained to Genista as their hostess turned away to open the front door. ‘Since the death of my parents she and John are the nearest thing I’ve had to a family.’
The Vicarage hall was dark after the sunlit garden, and Genista stumbled over the step and would have fallen if Luke’s arm hadn’t caught her round the waist. Just for a second her body was pressed against the hard warmth of his, and a feeling not unlike panic swept over her. Amy turned, beaming at them both, and her fear subsided a little. Luke was unlikely to do anything to her in someone else’s presence.
‘Luke told me you both wanted to get changed before the ceremony. Luke’s in his usual room, but I’ve put you in our daughter’s. Where are you taking her for the honeymoon, Luke?’ she asked her godson. ‘Or is it a secret?’
It was impossible not to like the small, motherly woman. Genista felt drawn to her immediately, and in other circumstances—had she not been so obviously under Luke’s spell—she might have risked confiding in her and begging for her help. However, it was simply not possible. It was obvious that she expected Genista to be over the moon with joy at the thought of marrying Luke, and moreover, believed that they were madly in love. Narrow twisting stairs led off the hall, and as she followed her hostess up them Genista heard Luke saying behind her, ‘It’s a secret, Amy. Unfortunately we’ve only got a long weekend.’
‘You work far too hard,’ she reproved him. ‘You must make him slow down,’ she told Genista. ‘A long weekend! You’re lucky she agreed to marry you, Luke. I would have insisted on a month—preferably on some gorgeous tropical island.’
‘Haven’t you noticed? Genista’s a redhead. She’d be suffering from sunburn before the first day was out, and that’s no good on a honeymoon.’
Amy tried to look disapproving and failed. Genista forced a smile, knowing that something was expected of her. She could have told them both that her skin didn’t burn, but she sensed that to do so would bring Luke’s anger down upon her hapless head, and she already had enough to cope with without that.
The room Amy showed her to was prettily feminine. Luke brought up her suitcase while Amy was still chatting about his childhood, and how delighted she and her husband were that they’d chosen to be married in his church.
‘I’ve been down this morning and done the flowers. June is such a lovely month for a wedding, but we don’t get many here, unfortunately. The young people move away to the towns looking for jobs, and marry there. John’s in his study, if you want to have a word with him,’ she told Luke as he placed Genista’s case on the bed. ‘We’ve arranged the ceremony for four, to give you time to get to wherever it is you’re going afterwards.’
‘I’ll go down and have a word with him after I’ve showered and changed.’
He went, closing the door behind him, and fresh panic engulfed Genista. She turned blindly towards the window, unaware that Amy had caught a glimpse of her face until the older woman said softly,
‘It’s such a big step, isn’t it? But you couldn’t entrust your life to a better man. Luke’s parents’ marriage was exceptionally happy. His father had old-fashioned values and both Luke and Marina were brought up on them. I think that’s why Marina took it so hard when her husband left her. For a while we thought Luke might never marry. It seemed to harden him, and then…Well, the fact that the girl Philip ran off with was Luke’s girl-friend was an added complication. Marina blamed him for introducing Verity to Philip. She couldn’t seem to see that Luke had been hurt as well.’ Amy sighed. ‘Forgive me, my dear, this isn’t the time to bring up all that sad business again. I’m so glad Luke’s found happiness. He deserves it, and I’m sure you’ll make him very happy.’ She patted Genista’s hand and laughed. ‘You probably think we’re too old-fashioned to be aware of these things, but I can recognise love when I see it, and love for you is written all over Luke’s face.’
Amy was mistaking love for sexual desire, Genista thought wearily as the door closed behind the older woman.
Alone, she showered quickly in the small en-suite bathroom attached to the bedroom, drying herself briskly on one of the large fluffy towels Amy had supplied, before slipping into the silky briefs she had pulled out of her case. Because of the camisole top to the suit it was impossible to wear a bra, but the sheer fabric was lined, and although the soft swell of her breasts was clearly visible beneath the fabric, there was nothing offensive about it. The hem on her skirt brushed her silk stockings, and she slid on fragile leather sandals in a toning shade of green before sitting down to apply her make-up.
Her skin glowed healthily from her holiday and she had no need to use foundation. The merest hint of soft lilac eyeshadow added depth to her amethyst eyes. She brushed her lashes sparingly with mascara, and added soft pink lipstick before brushing her hair until it crackled.
She was just spraying her skin with perfume when she heard the rap on the door, and she opened it nervously, blinking a little in surprise at the strange man standing there.
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‘I’m Jeff Stanley. Luke asked me to do the honours—I hope you don’t mind? We used to play together when we were kids. I’m the local doctor here. My wife and I are going to act as your witnesses, and as Amy flatly refused to allow Luke to see you in your wedding finery, I was deputised to escort you to the church. An honour and a privilege,’ he added with an admiring grin. ‘Now I’ve seen you I know why Luke was so reluctant to leave you. I don’t suppose he’d appreciate it if I took my best man’s kiss in advance!’
