His Very Convenient Bride

Wow, his family was screwed up.

‘I’m sure he’ll come through eventually,’ Flynn said, even though Ezekiel hadn’t even mentioned he was leaving, let alone returning to the festivities. It would be just like his father to spite them all after having his plans meddled with. Flynn was pretty certain that, actually, Ezekiel would be perfectly content with Helena as a daughter-in-law. It was just the fact that he hadn’t been consulted, or had the final say in the matter, that rankled the old man.

Thomas and Isabella made their way through to the dining room and, rather suddenly, Flynn was alone with his wife for the first time since they’d decided to go through with the marriage. No, not the marriage. That still hadn’t been decided, and wouldn’t be until they had a document rather more legally binding than a scrawled-on invitation with the wrong name on the front. The wedding, then. That much, at least, they had certainly gone through with.

That much had paperwork.

‘I’m sorry about that,’ he said apologetically. ‘You know my mother.’

‘Rather too well,’ Helena agreed, and he couldn’t help but smile.

‘Yes, well. How did you cope with your first official event as an Ashton—the receiving line, I mean? It seemed to go pretty smoothly to me.’

‘Yeah, it was fine, mostly. There were a couple of extra-nosy people asking about Zeke—not Thea, of course, that would be too obvious. Your mother and I put them off, for now anyway.’ She sighed. ‘Although I dread to think what sort of questions they’ll be ready to ask after a few too many glasses of champagne.’

She was right, Flynn realised. Sheer politeness might have stopped the bulk of the comments and observations in the church itself, but once the speeches were over all bets would be off.

Which meant the speeches would have to be something quite spectacular, to give them something else to talk about. Or something else to believe, about the way this day had gone.

‘We have to change the story,’ he said, and Helena’s smile turned awkward.

‘You got that from Thea,’ she said when he raised an eyebrow. ‘That’s one of her big PR phrases.’

‘Well, it applies today. We need to change people’s perceptions of what happened here today.’ And quickly, since he could already see the steward coming to fetch them.

‘Like the fact you married the wrong woman?’

‘Exactly that.’

The steward moved to open the door and Helena grabbed Flynn’s arm as she slipped her slim feet back into those bright pink shoes.

‘Any idea how?’ she murmured, as the dining room doors opened and the steward stepped through.

‘One or two,’ Flynn muttered back.

‘Like?’

But then the steward was announcing them as Mr and Mrs Flynn Ashton, and the show was on again. Helena would just have to wait and see. Flynn smiled to himself. Fixing this could be his wedding present to her.

CHAPTER THREE

IT WAS HARD not to be a little bitter. Helena had spent weeks choosing the perfect menu for this dinner, along with Isabella and the wedding planner and even Thea when she’d had time. They’d tasted and sampled all kinds of dishes, weighed up the pros and cons of a fish course against a sorbet between courses, and debated the merits of local versus imported cheeses for hours. And now, here she was, sitting right in the middle of the top table—and she’d barely tasted a mouthful of any of the plates put in front of her.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to eat. She was starving, as it happened. But the very efficiently tied corset laces were starting to make breathing a bit more of an issue than she’d like, and she didn’t want to strain them any more than she had to.

She stared longingly at the dessert in front of her and resigned herself to just a small taste. And to staying away from the champagne. Bubbles always went straight to her head, and on an empty stomach they’d be disastrous. Especially today. Today, she needed all of her faculties about her.

‘Are you okay? You’re looking kind of...pink,’ Flynn asked, leaning in. Helena supposed to the crowds of guests it looked as if he was murmuring sweet nothings in his bride’s ear. Not asking her why her complexion had coloured to match her shoes.

‘It’s the corset. It was okay standing up but now it’s kind of...binding.’ Which it was supposed to be, really. It was just that Helena was so very fond of oxygen. And dessert.

Flynn didn’t answer immediately. Helena glanced up to see his cheeks approaching shoe colour, too. ‘I’m sorry. Do you want me to...?’ He trailed off, waving a hand behind her back.

Helena shook her head. ‘Too late now. It’ll be fine. I just need to make it through the speeches then I’ll escape and find a maid or someone to adjust it.’

‘Just don’t let any of the guests see you.’ Flynn flashed her a quick grin. ‘You’ll have the rumour mill announcing you’re pregnant in no time.’

Pregnant. Of course. Because she was married now. And that was what married women did, wasn’t it? Gave their husbands babies.

Isabella probably wouldn’t even cry and send her away this time.

This time, it wouldn’t be a scandal, a shameful thing. It would be wanted, loved. Kept.

And the fact it might break her heart again still wouldn’t matter.

A waiter reached in to clear her barely touched plate and Helena murmured a thank you, more grateful for the interruption to her thoughts than the service.

‘Time for the speeches next,’ she said, visualising the timetable for the day as she’d seen it on the wedding planner’s clipboard.

‘And your dad’s up first. At least he always makes a good speech.’

Helena stared at him in disbelief, but Flynn appeared utterly unaware of what he’d said. ‘A good speech?’

‘Well, yeah.’ Flynn shrugged. ‘Doesn’t he? I mean, he does all those charity event speaker things, and he always talks well to the board. And I thought he did pretty well last night, at the rehearsal dinner.’

Helena shook her head. ‘No wonder Thea slept with Zeke,’ she muttered. After listening to their father’s speech about her the night before—including, amongst other things, a line about how glad he was that, by agreeing to marry Flynn, Thea had finally made a decision in her personal life as good as the ones she made in business—even Helena had been ready to flee the room. And Flynn hadn’t even noticed that his fiancée might have been a bit upset.

She wondered what little gems Dad would have in store for her. Assuming that he’d taken the time to rewrite it from his original speech, as planned for Thea. He might not. They seemed fairly interchangeable to him today—neither one of his daughters living up to what he wanted or expected from them.

She didn’t have to wait long to find out. The moment the last of the plates were cleared, Thomas Morrison was on his feet, carefully clinking the silverware against a champagne flute.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, friends and family, welcome—welcome to you all!’ Thomas smiled broadly around at the assembled company, and Helena wondered exactly how much of the champagne he’d had that afternoon.

‘On this very special day, I’d like to thank you all for travelling to be with us, not just on my own behalf, but on behalf of my dear old friends, Ezekiel and Isabella, too. I know that they feel, as I do, that this day would not have been so magical without all of you here to share it.’

Pause for applause. Flynn did have a point, although she’d never admit as much. Her father knew how to play a crowd.

It was just a shame he didn’t know how to make his own daughters feel as special.

‘This day, this joining of our two families, has been long coming, and long desired. Not just for the obvious reasons of business—although I know several of you very pleased to see your stocks and shares safe for another generation!’ Laughter, mostly from a table of middle-aged men in pinstriped suits with much younger wives towards the back of the room. ‘No, I have far greater reasons for wanting to see our families irrevocably linked.’

Helena swallowed at the word irrevocably, and felt Flynn flinch beside her. Was he thinking about how to get out of this marriage, like she was? Or was he plotting how to keep her in it?

‘Helena, my Helena, has always been my golden child. My baby girl. And to see her safe and secure with a man such as Flynn, a man I already trusted with my company, is quite frankly a joy!’

If her cheeks had been pink from oxygen deprivation before, then they had to be bright red and clashing with her shoes by now. As she stared at her full champagne glass, watching the bubbles rise and pop, Flynn sneaked his hand into hers and she squeezed gratefully.

‘Flynn—’ Thomas turned to address his new son-in-law directly ‘—you have been given a precious gift today. I expect you to take very good care of it.’

‘I will, sir.’ Flynn’s voice was sure and certain, and the whole room burst into applause again at the sound of it.

‘Okay, maybe he’s not dreadful at speeches,’ Helena murmured to Flynn but, even as she said it, Thomas launched into a long, overdone thank you speech to Isabella for all she’d done in helping to raise her and organise the day. ‘Sometimes.’

‘Wait until you hear mine,’ Flynn teased. But Helena tensed at the very idea. What on earth was he going to say? Hi, guys, I know you came to see me marry that other girl but, hey, change of plan and, under the circumstances, this was the best I could do. More champagne, anyone?

‘This you’re worried about?’ Flynn asked, his voice low but amazed. ‘Marrying a guy you never even considered as a possible date on no notice in someone else’s wedding dress, fine. But the thought of me making a speech makes you tense up? You don’t need the corset, your shoulders are so rigid.’

‘Not the thought of you making a speech. The thought of you adapting a speech about Thea to suit me on the spot. The fact that everyone here will know you’re actually talking about another woman.’

Flynn didn’t reply immediately, and when Helena looked up his expression was thoughtful. ‘Just wait and listen,’ he said finally, just as Thomas asked the room to be upstanding for the bride and groom.

‘To Flynn and Helena!’ She supposed she should just be glad that most people managed to get her name right.

Flynn got to his feet as everyone else sat down, and Helena gave up worrying about the tightness of her corset laces. It wasn’t as if she could breathe while this was going on anyway.

‘It’s traditional, I know, for the groom to toast the bridesmaids,’ he started.

Helena winced instinctively. That’s right—draw attention to exactly what’s untraditional about this wedding.

‘But, as you might have noticed, my wife and I don’t actually have any today.’

A nervous laugh, and not even the usual cheer at the use of ‘my wife and I’. Yeah, this was going to go brilliantly.

‘A lot of things about today’s wedding might not have been exactly as people were expecting. But, in fact, everything is just as it should be.’

He smiled down at her and something in Helena’s chest loosened, for the first time that day.

‘All along, we knew we wanted to join our families together, to go into the future as a pair, a team. We wanted to secure our future, and our future happiness. But you can’t make a plan for love; you can’t schedule romance and desire. You can’t outsmart Cupid, as Helena and I learned.’

It was all true, Helena realised. Everything he was saying accurately described Thea and Zeke’s discoveries and disappointments of the last couple of days. But the way he said it, the way he smiled lovingly at her as he spoke...it was as if he were telling a different story altogether.

Their story.

‘Duty is one thing; family duty something altogether heavier. But true love...well, true love trumps them all.’ Women were ‘aahing’ around the tables, and Helena thought she might even have seen one of the middle-aged men in the pinstriped suits wipe at his eyes. How was Flynn doing this?

‘I truly believe that our wedding today is just the first stop on a journey of a lifetime. With Helena, I feel like I have come home at last. Together we, and our families, have a wonderful future ahead of us. And I couldn’t be prouder to have my wife by my side as we venture into it.’

Flynn tugged her up to stand beside him, one arm wrapped around her waist, and raised his glass. ‘To Helena,’ he said, and the room echoed with the repeats.

And just for a moment, standing there in her sister’s too tight wedding dress with the wrong shoes pinching her feet, Helena could see the future Thea had planned for herself. A future of acceptance and appreciation, having a man beside her who always managed to say the right thing at the right time.

It almost seemed like the fairy tale it was supposed to be. For a moment, anyway. Until her guests started calling for something more.

‘Kiss her!’ Mr Teary-Pinstripes called. ‘Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss!’ The rest of his table picked up the chant. Then the rest of the room.

Suddenly, Helena almost wished the corset was tight enough to make her faint.

Imagining a fairy tale future wasn’t the same as kissing the prince. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. They’d managed to avoid it in the church, where at least it would have been expected to be a chaste and swift kiss. Here, now, after all the wine and the toasts...these people wanted the real thing, and anything less was only going to start up rumours again.

She couldn’t let that happen. Not after Flynn’s speech had tidied away all the talk so neatly.

If they wanted a kiss, she was going to have to give it to them.

She turned to Flynn, eyebrows raised, and he echoed the gesture. ‘I never thought my first kiss with my husband would be quite so public,’ she murmured, quiet enough that she knew it wouldn’t be heard over the chanting.

‘It’s just for show.’ He flashed her a quick smile.

Just a show. Of course. They weren’t really in love, whatever Flynn had suggested in his speech. This marriage was only temporary, just until they could sort everything out. It wouldn’t—couldn’t—last. Not when she couldn’t give Flynn what he wanted most.

None of which explained why there seemed to be too much blood in her veins, or why she couldn’t look away from Flynn’s caramel-brown eyes as he smiled down at her.

Helena’s heart raced as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close, the chanting turning to cheering around them.

It’s just for show. The words spun in her head, but all Helena could think as Flynn bent in to kiss her was: If this is just a show, how am I going to survive the real thing?

* * *

Just a show. That was the key.

Except it wasn’t.

Yes, the only reason his first kiss with his wife was taking place in front of a captive audience was to prove a point—to show them that Helena wasn’t some sort of poor consolation prize. But that wasn’t enough. He had to show Helena that too.

And Helena knew the truth.

If he wanted her to stick with this—to believe they had a real future together—well, that future had to start right now. With their first kiss.

‘Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss!’ The chanting around them faded into nothing as he leant in closer, his eyes closing as his lips brushed against hers, softly at first, not wanting to spook her. But then, oh, then... Flynn’s fingers clutched at her hip, the silk of her dress slipping against his skin as he deepened the kiss.

She tasted like champagne and gold, expensive and sparkling, her mouth warm and willing under his. He’d wanted to prove a point with this kiss but, for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what it was. All he could think about was how soft her body was against his, how perfectly it fitted to him.

He opened his eyes, wanting to drink in the sight of her too, wanting to see her reaction, to know if she was as affected as him. But Helena’s eyes were closed and, along with his vision, his hearing seemed to return too—or at least his awareness of it.

The chanting had turned to cheering—when, Flynn didn’t know. But he was suddenly aware that he was making a spectacle of himself—and Helena—by falling so completely into what was supposed to be a simple kiss. Just a moment to appease the crowd, and a promise of what could follow later.

If their first kiss had knocked him senseless, what would their second do to him? Never mind their third and fourth...

Reluctantly, Flynn loosened his hold on his wife and pulled back, just enough to signal to Helena that the kiss was over. Her eyelids fluttered open and Flynn was gratified to see misty confusion in her bluebell bright eyes, too. At least he wasn’t the only one losing his mind over a kiss.

‘Well,’ Isabella said in a low voice as they pulled apart, ‘at least no one here is left in any doubt that you both got what you wanted out of this arrangement.’ Flynn couldn’t tell if his mother disapproved of that or not. It was often hard to tell with Isabella. He found it easiest to assume that she did disapprove, most of the time.

Not that it made any difference now. He was married to Helena and there was nothing anyone could do about that.

The cheering had turned to chatter and laughter now, after a smattering of applause. Helena’s cheeks were pink as she sat down, and Flynn flattered himself that the blush had less to do with her corset than it had.

‘Nearly there now,’ he murmured to her, reaching to take her hand. She let him hold it long enough for a reassuring squeeze then tugged it away again, giving him a polite, but non-committal, smile.

Flynn frowned. What had changed? She’d been right there with him in that kiss, he could tell. So why the cool distance now?

As the guests finished their coffees and headed through to the adjoining room, where a bar had been set up for them while the band set up on the terrace, Flynn studied his bride as she sipped tea, and considered.

Helena had been instrumental in the wedding planning, but she hadn’t been part of the prenuptial contract discussions. But she was Thea’s sister. They’d have talked about the terms of the agreement, surely? Which meant that Helena probably knew that marital relations hadn’t been contractually required for the first couple of years. Thea had wanted time to settle into married life, and to continue to build up her career, before they started a family. And, since they weren’t in love, or even in lust, sex wasn’t really necessary until then. At least, on paper.

There was a firm fidelity clause, though. And Thea had changed her mind, just two nights ago, about what she wanted from the marriage in physical terms. She’d wanted them to get to know each other as man and wife, and have that time together first before kids.

Although how much that decision had to do with her trying to hide her feelings for his brother, Flynn suspected he was better off not knowing.

Still, maybe she hadn’t discussed that change of plans with Helena. And, even if she had, there was no contract between Helena and him. No carefully debated and worded agreement, no consensus of opinion. Just confusion, lack of clarity and the potential for miscommunication.

This was why the world needed paperwork.

He’d have to talk to her, discuss the situation and what they wanted to happen next. It was useful to have a good idea of their individual needs before they got the solicitors involved, or at least that was what he’d found with her sister.

But that would have to wait until he got her alone. And with two hundred wedding guests still watching them closely—either waiting for another kiss or some sign of what really went down that morning—Flynn didn’t see that happening very soon.

A smile crept on to his face as a thought occurred to him. There was one chance for them to be almost alone, if still observed, very soon indeed.

‘What are you smiling at?’ Helena asked from beside him.

‘I’m just looking forward to our first dance,’ he answered honestly.

‘Well, it can’t be any more of a spectacle than our first kiss.’ Helena covered her eyes for a moment, obviously embarrassed.

‘Don’t knock the kiss,’ Flynn said, leaning back in his chair. ‘I think that kiss might set the tone for our whole marriage.’

Helena’s gaze flashed up to his face, uncertainty in her eyes. Flynn tried to give her a reassuring look. She’d feel better once they’d agreed terms. And he’d feel better once he knew she was in this for the long haul. He could persuade her that sticking with the marriage was better for everybody, he was sure.

Even if he had to kiss her a hundred more times to convince her.

* * *

‘And now, please welcome Mr and Mrs Flynn Ashton on to the floor for their first dance!’

Helena thought her face might crack from all the smiling. Still, she tried to keep up the ecstatically happy bride act as she took Flynn’s hand and stepped out into the middle of the ballroom. How had Isabella even managed to find a villa with a ballroom? The woman had to have ridiculous magical abilities or something.

Helena just hoped she’d use her powers for good.

‘You okay?’ Flynn asked as the band struck up the first notes of the first dance. It Had to Be You. Thea had picked it after glancing over the band’s set list, and Helena still wasn’t sure if she’d meant it as a joke. Except Thea wasn’t stuck dancing to it for the next three and a half minutes or whatever. Helena was.

‘I’m fine.’ She smiled up at her husband and hoped he wouldn’t notice she was lying. She was a long way from fine.

It was the kiss that had started it. The kiss that had left her knees weak and her brain foggy. Followed by all the sincere congratulations that no one had offered before Flynn’s speech and a roomful of strangers telling her how this must be the happiest day of her life.

Helena was pretty sure it would go down forever as the most bizarre and confusing. But happiest? That really wasn’t the right word for it.

Flynn led her around the dance floor without her even having to think about where her feet went next, as if he had a diagram in his head that he just had to follow and everything would be graceful and perfect. Which, actually, knowing Flynn, he probably did.

‘So,’ he said as the singer launched into the second verse, ‘I think we made it through the day without disaster.’

‘I guess we did.’ After the dancing, all that was left was the sending off. Except she and Flynn weren’t going anywhere except upstairs to bed.

Bed.

Oh.

Where were they going to sleep? The bridal suite Thea had been using, which would have been set up for a romantic wedding night while they were all down at the chapel? Or the smaller room Helena had taken as her own? Or even Flynn’s room at the far end of the villa?

And, more importantly, was Flynn expecting that they’d be going to bed together?

‘About that,’ she said, stumbling a little as her shoe got stuck in the too-long hem of her dress. Flynn caught her, strong hands keeping her upright and even still dancing as she found her balance. ‘I mean, about making it through the day. And to the night. Um...’

Flynn gave a low chuckle that somehow sounded dirtier than she’d ever imagined he was capable of. ‘Don’t worry. I don’t think anyone is going to be sober enough to notice where either of us sleep tonight. Why don’t you take the bridal suite, just in case anyone checks, and I’ll stick with my room? I’ll have work to do in the morning anyway, and my laptop and files are all set up in there.’

Of course. Work.

Just when she was starting to think that Flynn was a little more enthusiastic about this wedding than she’d expected. But no, it was all just the show, the spectacle, still.

Except that kiss hadn’t felt like a show. It had definitely been a spectacle, but it had felt...real. Tingly.

But she wasn’t supposed to be getting tingly feelings about this man. Her husband. Stupid as it seemed. She needed to keep this business-like and official until they could sit down and agree a way to get out of it. As she’d told him that morning, this didn’t have to be forever.