Hate to Love You(33)

“She’s the woman I love, worthy of my name and position,” he interrupted sharply.

“Your name and position?” I mimicked, whirling around. “Shit James, would that be the Scott-Thomas horizontal or the vertical? Those are the only positions of yours I’m interested in.”

He made a disgusted noise. “You’d do better to interest yourself in controlling your basic proclivities,” he said, pausing to sweep his eyes over my body and frown. “For the record, neither of those positions interests me, not with you.”

He was standing in profile, from his straight nose down to his straight—#p#分页标题#e#

My forced smile hurt almost as much as his words. “And you’d do better to get lost in the maze before you head back to your bride. You’re stuck on vertical.”





Chapter Seven

“I Want” Doesn’t Get

I was still seething when I made my way inside the hotel and found the banqueting hall. It was an impressive example of Victorian architecture, full of opulent historical charm. Shame about the virginal-white wedding decorations. I wanted to slap some paint onto the walls, swirls of orange, red and purple; throw in vivid flowers like birds of paradise and cover the insipid white with the warmth of colour.

The top table was set on a dais halfway down the left-hand side of the room, opposite a small minstrel’s gallery where the DJ would be based. I found the seating plan and peeked over another guest’s shoulders, scrolling down the list for my name. The enormous chandeliers made me hope my table wasn’t underneath one of them—you never know, right?—and that I would be seated near the elegant bay windows showing a view of the lawns.

No chandelier and no window view either, but table 23 suited me perfectly all the same. It was near the exit, and as far away from my family as possible while still giving me a good view of the top table. A few children ran past me as I negotiated my way to my seat. They had bright auras, pinks and greens and blues, and I paused to look at them, fascinated at the colours dancing around their bodies. Auras weren’t something I normally saw and I was enjoying this facet of pregnancy.

When I got to my table I struggled out of my coat, mentally cursing James for being a domineering jerk. After the meal was over I would pop the coat back on and corner Father Martin. The first dance would allow me the opportunity I needed to find him alone. I kind of wanted to see their performance since Caroline had complained that James refused to take lessons and couldn’t dance worth shit.

My words, not hers.

Dancing came to me as easily as lying and I was looking forward to watching James trip up. Petty I know, but where he was concerned I was oscillating between anger, wounded pride and a strange feeling of loss.

Hunger gnawed at my stomach and before I knew it, I’d eaten the tiny white bun on my side plate. I know that’s rude but I couldn’t help it. Pregnancy hunger is different from normal hunger; it turns your stomach into a ravenous beast. Mine didn’t growl, it roared so loudly I apologised. Then I blushed, hand halfway to somebody else’s plate. I never used to steal other people’s bread when they weren’t looking. Well, not the white and fluffy kind, anyway.

Pregnancy was also turning me back into a thief.

“Sorry,” I said.

The diner dipped his eyes to my chest and I looked down. Nope, my annoying nipples weren’t in attention-seeking position. I checked out the dainty white card in front of the man’s plate. Warren Howard Davies was perving on me even though he’d brought a hot date to the wedding. I turned my attention to my left. Another man. He saw my hungry stare and offered me his bread.

I looked at his little name thingy. “Thanks Paul.”

“Bride or groom?”

“Neither—I’m here to heckle.”

He laughed and his eyes lingered below my neck. I stifled a sigh. I had done the shit so I would take the hit. So far a few lusty stares and an invitation to room 206 from a guest outside the bathroom. Paul moved his seat closer and told me his date was his sister. I flirted, throwing my hair back as I laughed.

When I looked at the top table James was staring at me. Caroline noticed and ran her eyes over my dress. Shit, my parents might not be able to see me but Caroline had an excellent view. I tried to concentrate on flirting but it was no use. When I looked back James was plundering Caroline’s lips like a dying man looking for God inside her mouth—and she was enjoying it.#p#分页标题#e#

He released her and our eyes met. One, two, three seconds of looking into emerald slits that mirrored the jealous colour of my thoughts. Caroline blushed at the whistles, laughing at something the best man said, and James kissed her cheek.