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Her sensitive tummy flipped. Now she did have somewhere to wear her recycled bargain: her own wedding.
‘Thank you, so do you.’
They had reached the car when Tilda stopped and gave a sudden decisive nod. ‘Wait a minute.’
‘Don’t ask me, mate,’ Sam said at the question on the driver’s face as his sister dashed off.
A few moments later, Tilda returned. ‘I had to tell Mrs Lowther and say goodbye,’ she said as she slid into the limo. ‘She’s been so good to us. She said I look like Mum,’ she added as Sam sat back, having fastened his seat belt.
‘You don’t.’
‘I know that, but it was so sweet of her.’
He looked alarmed. ‘You’re not going to cry, are you?’
‘God, no!’
‘I wish Mum was here, and Dad...you know?’
Tilda squeezed his hand. She did know. ‘Me too, every day,’ she said softly. ‘If they were, I wouldn’t be here at all,’ she began with wistful regret before making contact with her brother’s questioning gaze. She made a swift recovery. ‘Mum would have insisted on a full church white wedding with hundreds of guests and I’d be floating down the aisle in miles of tulle.’
‘Yeah, I guess so. I don’t really remember her as well as you do.’ Sam turned his head to gaze out of the window but not before Tilda had seen the moisture in his eyes. ‘I’ve never seen the streets this empty. You’re going to be married before the rest of the world is awake.’
‘Mum and Dad would have been proud of you, Sam,’ she said softly.
‘I know I don’t say it, but I am grateful for all the stuff you have done for me. I think this is us,’ he added before Tilda could respond.
‘Isn’t it fashionable for the bride to be late?’
‘You sound jittery. Perhaps I should get him to drive us around the block one more time.’
‘Too late,’ she murmured as the driver opened the door for her. ‘Thanks,’ she said as she squared her shoulders, took a deep breath and slid out, refusing to let panic take charge.
Bending down to adjust the heel strap on her suede sling-back that didn’t need adjusting, her attempt to slow her heart beat failed when on the periphery of her vision she saw a tall figure crossing the road.
From the other side of the limo, she heard Sam yell out a greeting.
Tilda smothered the panic and pasted on a smile before using her posy as a shield as she turned to face him. The knot in her stomach tightened as she took in the details of his achingly perfect appearance.
Ezio was wearing a superbly cut formal dress suit, looking the epitome of style—not that anyone would be talking fashion; they’d be talking about the gorgeous, handsome man they were picturing minus the clothes.
Or is that just me?
He always carried himself with the careless confidence and grace of a natural athlete. The aura of command he projected sent a tingle through her body before he even got close enough to speak.
‘You got the flowers.’ Ezio took in the dress, noting it was none of the designer ones he’d had sent over, but it was the epitome of understated feminine elegance and it fitted her slim figure perfectly. Cut to a couple of inches above the knee, it showcased her stupendously shapely legs and narrow ankles in a way that sent a stream of searing heat down his body.
She’d looked composed but that illusion was ruined the moment he got close enough to see her eyes behind the new cat’s eye frames she was wearing. Startlingly green and wary, they made him think of a wild thing likely to bolt if startled.
‘Thank you, they are beautiful, and smell gorgeous.’ She lifted the bouquet to her nose.
His eyes moved upwards with the action but only as far as the pale skin above the square necked bodice that fitted snugly over her small, high breasts, revealing the finest suggestion of a cleavage and the delicate angularity of her collar bones.
Aware that he had been staring for...well, actually he had no idea how long...he cleared his throat. ‘Pretty necklace.’ It matched the earrings, the small studs with a pearl inset he had noticed she wore every day.
‘Thanks, it was my mother’s. And the ring, it’s very...’ She held her hand at an angle to expose the green glitter on her ring finger. ‘It really...’
‘Not too much,’ he inserted, predicting her next words exactly.
