TRISHA DAVID - Bride By Friday

‘They agreed...’ The man’s audacity took Tessa’s breath away. So that was why she was sitting in business class.

She’d wondered. She looked unimportant and unkempt—the last person suitable for an upgrade to business class. But now... As well as having to humour an obvious lunatic, she also had to be grateful.

‘Thank you,’ she said stiffly. ‘But—’

‘But you have to sleep and I’ve just thrown you a proposal that’s got you all in a tizz,’ he said sagely. ‘I can see that. Don’t answer all at once. Tell you what. You catch forty winks while I sift through these papers again and see if there isn’t any other way out of this mess-and we’ll talk about it later.’

His smile was warm and gentle and infinitely comforting. As if he weren’t a lunatic at all.

‘Here,’ he said, offering her an eye mask. ‘And here.’ A pillow and blanket were added to the ones the hostess had already given her. ‘Now just push this little but-ton...’ He leaned over and pushed the little button and her seat sank back to almost fully reclining. Then, to her absolute bewilderment, he kissed her lightly on the nose. ‘Sweet dreams. See you in London!’

And he placed her eye mask over her eyes and left her to her confusion.

Tessa slept the clock around, and when she opened her eyes her first thought was that she was warm and cared for and that the nightmare had receded.

She was being held.

She opened one eye cautiously—and then another.

In sleep, her head had drooped sideways. The man by her side was now wearing a cashmere jumper—soft and warm and bulky. His seat was also reclining. She was using the stranger’s sweater—his shoulder!—as her pillow, and she could hear the beating of his heart under her right ear.

She sat up as if she’d been hit by an electric cattle prod, and the broad arm around her shoulders was reluctantly withdrawn.

‘Hey,’ the man said dolefully. ‘I was asleep.’

‘I’m so sorry.’ Tessa struggled sideways in a muddle of blankets and tried to make her eyes work. The cabin lights were dim and the darkness was intimate.

Sleeping with a stranger...

‘No need to be sorry.’ The arm came back around, possessive and strong. ‘Half an hour till they turn on the lights for breakfast. Snooze a little.’

‘What... what time is it?’ Still she struggled, hauling herself back in the luxurious comfort of her velvet seat.

He sighed and checked his watch. Luminous dials. Expensive watch. ‘It’s three a.m. British time, or midday Australian. Take your pick.’

It didn’t feel like either.

Tessa struggled with the sense that she was dreaming, blinked, blinked again, and then the lights came on.

‘Damn,’ the deep voice said mournfully. ‘My prediction was wrong Now you won’t think me a seasoned traveller.’

‘Are you one?’ Tess asked cautiously. The man looked like a farmer. He didn’t come across as someone who flitted frequently around the world on business.

‘Yep. I fly from Warrnambie to Melbourne once a month, rain or shine.’

Tess thought this through.

‘You mean—Warrnambie, Victoria, Australia, to Melbourne, Victoria, Australia? A distance of about a hundred miles?’

‘That’s right.’ His smile told her she was a clever girl. As if he were humouring her instead of the other way around.

‘That makes you a seasoned traveller?’

‘Hey, I’ve been to England before,’ he told her, wounded. ‘But not once a month. Mostly because I don’t like aeroplane breakfasts.’ He yawned and stretched, his big frame touching her shoulder as he moved. The warmth from his body seemed to flow straight through the blankets and into hers.

‘So...’ Tess was making a Herculean effort to keep the conversation sane. This man had organized her a seat and lent her a shoulder. She had to be nice, no matter how breathless he made her feel. ‘So you live at Warrnambie?’

‘That’s where my farm is.’ He was interrupted by the hostess. A moist, warm towel was handed to each of them, held aloft with a pair of silver tongs. Tessa’s companion disappeared under his white towel for a minute or two, rubbing himself down with the enjoyment of a bear under a waterfall. Then he emerged to redirect his attention to Tess. ‘That’s better. A shave and I’ll almost be up to introductions. Don’t go away.’

He stretched his large frame into an upright position and disappeared toward the rest room. Tess was left staring blankly after him, wondering just what it was that made the world seem to hold its breath in this man’s presence.

In fact, it was an hour and breakfast later before they finally got around to introductions, and by that time Tess was almost starting to feel human. She’d washed, repaired the worst of the ravages to her face and, despite her companion’s disparagement of airline food, managed to put away a decent breakfast. It was the first full meal she could remember eating since she’d heard about Christine’s death, and she hadn’t realized just how hungry she was.

Charles watched her with growing concern.

‘You don’t say you like this stuff?’ he demanded, prodding an omelette which bore a strong resemblance to a piece of bath foam. ‘The hens that laid these eggs have serious problems. I think they’ve been fed a diet of rubber pellets and orange cordial.’

Tess chuckled, and was faintly astonished at the sound. That she could laugh...

Charlie Cameron’s smile broadened.

‘Now, how did I know it’d sound like that?’ he said approvingly. ‘The very nicest chuckle...’ He held out his hand and took hers, enveloping her fingers in a strong, warm clasp. ‘Allow me to repeat my proposal. I’ve been through all the papers and there’s nothing else for it. You’ll just have to marry me.’

‘Don’t be...’ Tessa tried unsuccessfully to draw her hand away. ‘Don’t be silly,’ she said nervously, glancing up to see just where the hostess was, just in case she needed help to haul off a deranged and disappointed lunatic. ‘You don’t even know me.’

‘I know enough. You’re not wearing a wedding ring and you have the nicest chuckle I’ve ever had the privilege of hearing,’ Charles said. ‘And when we stopped at Singapore and the old Indian lady dropped her baggage, you were the one who got down on her hands and knees and hauled it back together.’ He noted her look of surprise and smiled again. ‘I was in the business class lounge or I would have dashed to the rescue myself—as befits my status as hero and husband material—but I could see what happened through the glass,’ he added. ‘That’ll do as an introduction.’

‘Well, I don’t know you,’ Tessa said breathlessly. ‘For heaven’s sake, this is ridiculous. I don’t know you from Adam and you’re asking me to marry you?’

‘I know you. I’ve read your baggage labels. Tessa Flanagan, and a very nice name too. Tessa Cameron sounds better. But I guess you don’t know me.’ Charles considered. And then he frowned. ‘I have a problem here,’ he confessed. ‘I’m not really sure yet who I am.’

‘You’re not sure?’ Tessa glared. This was getting crazier and crazier. ‘What do you mean—you’re not sure?’

‘Well, I think I’m sure,’ he told her, and smiled apologetically ‘Until a week ago, I was Charles Cameron, cattle farmer from Warrnambie.’

‘And now?’

‘Well...’ He sighed. Then he lifted up one of the papers he’d been studying. ‘According to this, I’m Lord Charles Cameron, thirteenth Earl of Dalston. Owner of a grand-sounding title, and—if you’ll agree to marry me—owner of one rather decrepit castle and all it contains.’

CHAPTER TWO

VERY little was said for the next hour until they came in to land at Heathrow. Too much had happened to Tess for her to continue humouring this nutcase. She was polite—but only just.