He gave the glimmer of a smile, and Catherine felt her stomach turn over. Did he have any idea how that smile could turn a normally sensible woman’s head? In spite of everything.
‘What do you say, Catherine?’
She thought of going through it all alone, and suddenly felt the first tremblings of fear. For a moment she felt small and helpless and vulnerable—though surely that was natural enough?
While Finn was big and strong and dependable. It didn’t matter what his feelings for her were, he would protect her, instinct told her that. And instinct was a very powerful influence where pregnant women were concerned.
She looked at him. He had stated that she didn’t really have the luxury of choice, and in a way he was right. For what right-minded and responsible woman in her situation could give any answer other than the one which now came from between her dry lips.
‘Very well, Finn. I’ll marry you.’
Chapter Ten
CHAPTER TEN
AS WEDDINGS went, it was bizarre. The ceremony had to be quick and it had to be discreet—any sign of a hugely pregnant bride would have the press sniffing around in droves, and Finn didn’t want that. Neither did Catherine.
And organising a wedding wasn’t as easy as they made out in the films.
‘Ireland’s out,’ he’d said grimly, as he replaced the telephone receiver. ‘You need three months’ written notice.’
‘You didn’t know that?’ The question came out without her thinking.
‘Why would I?’ His eyes had sparked icy blue fire. ‘I’ve never got married before.’
And wouldn’t be now, she’d reminded herself painfully. Not if he hadn’t been in such an invidious situation.
‘It’ll have to be in England, and I have to be resident for seven days prior to giving notice,’ he’d said flatly. ‘It’s fifteen days minimum after that.’
He’d made it sound as if he was to undergo a protracted kind of operation. Catherine had turned away.
They’d flown back to England, where Finn had booked in to a hotel, and by some unspoken agreement they had not seen one another until the day of the wedding itself—although they’d had a
few brief, uncomfortable conversations.
Catherine had spent the three weeks trying to be- have as normally as possible—seeing her friends, trying to write—even once visiting her mother. And all the while her great big secret had burned so strongly within her that she was astonished no one else noticed.
When the day of the wedding finally dawned, her most overwhelming emotion was one of relief—that soon the subterfuge would be over.
Catherine glanced at her watch as she waited for her reluctant husband-to-be. She hadn’t bought anything new—because that also seemed to go against the mood of the arrangement. Her favourite clingy violet dress made her look voluptuous, and she was grateful for the long jacket which covered most of the evidence.
But when she opened the door to him, her face drawn and tense, Finn felt his heart miss a beat.
‘Smile for me, Catherine,’ he whispered.
Obediently she curved her lips upwards into a smile, trying not to be enticed by the blue gleam of his eyes.
‘You look like a gypsy,’ he observed softly, as she pinned two large silver hoops to her ears.
‘Is that bad, or good?’
‘It’s good,’ he replied evenly, but he had to force himself to walk away and stare sightlessly out of the window. The trouble was that he still wanted her, and yet there now seemed to be an unbreachable emotional gulf which made intimacy out of the question. He glanced down at his watch. ‘Almost ready to go?’
Nerves assailed her for the hundredth time that morning. He looked so devastating in his dark suit and snowy shirt that she was having difficulty remembering that this was all make-believe. He wasn’t a real groom any more than she was a real bride. ‘Finn, it’s still not too late to back out, you know.’
‘You want to?’
Of course she did. Part of her would have loved to be able to wave a magic wand and wish her old life back. While another part wished that this gorgeous man would sweep her into his arms and kiss all her make-up off and tell her that he couldn’t bear not to marry her.