The Mistress Bride

'Raschid did,' she mumbled.

'Good old Raschid,' her brother mocked. 'Always thinking ahead of himself, that guy.'

'She didn't actually say she heard us, did she?' Evie asked anxiously.

Looking down at her with wickedly teasing eyes, Julian drew out the silence while he pondered whether or not to lie then laughed out loud as his poor sister's face went from blush-red to paste-white. 'She heard the two of you talking, that's all.' He finally let Evie off the hook.

'I think I hate you,' she choked, her chest feeling as if it had just collapsed.

'Punishment,' he said unsympathetically. 'For being so pathetic as to believe your absence from my wedding photos is going to stop the gossip columnists from marking yours and Raschid's presence here. What they will do,' he went on grimly, 'is make a whole lot of mischief out of the way you carefully avoided him. Intrigue,' he incised, 'is the spice of their lives, Evie. And you certainly gave them enough spice to make a meal out of your behaviour today.'

'I didn't want them splashing photos of me and him all over their papers instead of you and Christina,' she defended herself.

'Well, having thwarted them of a photograph, they will instead make much of the fact that they couldn't catch the two of you together-anywhere. And how do I know that?' he concluded. 'Because those were the kind of questions most of our guests were pumped with today by the reporters. Which in turn made your entrance here tonight on Raschid's arm a real revelation for everyone.'

'You noticed?'

'You are such a naive little baby sometimes, Evie,' her brother sighed. Standing several inches taller than her, Julian dropped his gaze to her surprised face. 'I would think that the whole room noticed, which was why Raschid did it, isn't it?' he suggested. 'He'd had enough of playing the nasty skeleton in your dark little cupboard. The man has more than his fair share of pride, and you kicked it today with your behaviour.'

By the time Raschid came back to graciously return the bride to her new husband, Evie was trying to come to terms with the unpalatable fact that she seemed to have upset just about everyone she cared about today, in one way or another. He didn't speak as he danced her away again, but the fingers that held her were saying a lot and he was wearing that cold, hard mask on his face that she knew very well. 'I did warn you,' she said, unable to say nothing even when expediency was telling her that silence in this case was the better part of valour.

'So you did,' he agreed. 'It is a shame there were no hidden cameras in your bedroom earlier, for we could have stopped the gossips in their curious tracks then.'

'Oh, don't be such a boor, Raschid,' Evie flashed, guilty conscience giving way to anger. 'Tell me,' she demanded. 'What would you have done if our roles here had been reversed, and this had been Ranya's wedding day, to which, by some utterly amazing quirk of fate, I had been invited?'

The smooth line of his jaw clenched, the angry outline of his mouth tightening even further as he took the very sarcastic scenario on board.

'You would have asked me not to attend the wedding.' She gave the answer for him. 'And if, like you, I had told you to go to hell, you would then have made a point of completely ignoring me! But unlike you,' she then added tightly, 'I would have accepted your desire for privacy, hurt though I may have been by it. The word is dignity, Raschid,' she clipped at him coldly. 'Something you should recognise since you have so much of it. Well, today I was protecting my dignity, not yours. And if you don't like that, then it's just too damned bad!'

It was fortunate, perhaps, that the music finished then.

Evie flashed his ice-cold mask of a face one final searing glance then walked angrily away. But the sense of tight hurt she experienced as she did so was there because he let her do it. After that, she went back to avoiding him, as she did anyone who might think it was their right to castigate her for one sin or another! Instead she stuck to those people who couldn't care less what she did in her private life. She laughed, she danced, she chatted and teased and generally sparkled like a golden icon to beauty and social charm. While inside she had never felt so lonely in her entire life.

The time came at last for the bride and groom to depart and everyone gathered in the castle's great hallway to see them off. They were staying at one of the hotels close to Heathrow tonight before flying off to Barbados first thing in the morning.

Christina appeared at the top of the grand staircase dressed in a blush-pink Dior suit. In her hands she carried her wedding bouquet, and behind her Julian was grinning as he listened to the calls for his bride to throw the lucky flowers. Evie stood and teased and called with the rest of them, but it was only the sudden flash from Christina's eyes that warned her what was coming as the bouquet came spiraling through the air and landed against her chest.

If silence could be measured in decibels, then the sudden silence that encompassed the great hall at Beverley Castle hit whole new levels. Everyone just stood there and gaped at Evie. No teasing, no jokes. They simply did not know what to say as Evie's cheeks mottled with embarrassed colour.

From the back of the hall, Raschid witnessed it all in a kind of frozen stillness, the appalling truth that every single person here knew there was no hope of Evie marrying whil

e she stayed with him hitting him like a punch to the solar plexus.

'Well .. .' Evie's voice came out light and rueful. 'We can all live and dream, I suppose.'

And dutifully the crowd laughed, but nervously, tensely. For Evie it was the worst moment of her life. She kept smiling, though. With a teeth-gritting will-power she kept that darned smile in place. She hugged and kissed her brother, received a penitent Christina into her arms.

'I'm sorry, Evie,' the bride whispered. 'I didn't mean to--'

'Shh,' she cut in, and kissed Christina's cheek. 'Just go away, have a lovely honeymoon!'

By the time the car went off down the driveway, flying streamers and rattling tin cans, Evie had had enough. Seeing her mother making a beeline for her had her turning quickly in the opposite direction and slipping away into the soft summer darkness. The lake beckoned, its moon-kissed silk-smooth surface acting like a soothing lure to her storm-tossed senses. Walking around the main marquee, she stepped up to the lake rim, and watched bleakly as the view in front of her went out of focus through eyes that slowly filled with tears. Well, she told herself. She'd done it. She had got through today-though not quite as she'd wanted to get through it. She'd upset many and pleased none. But at least now she could concentrate on pleasing Evie.

And Evie wanted to - her heart began to throb. The deep dark well of frustration and misery she had been keeping such a firm hold on all day suddenly burst through its constraints. And with a fierceness that said it all she stretched out the hand still clutching Christina's bouquet and with as much power as she could muster tossed the flowers as far as she could into the lake. The bouquet landed with a soft splash, bobbed a couple of times, then lay there floating in a pool of moon-kissed ripples.

'Feel better for that?' a dark voice said behind her. 'Not so you would notice,' she said, not bothering to turn because she knew who it was. 'Go away, Raschid,' she then added flatly. 'I don't need another round in the verbal boxing ring with you, right now.'

'No,' he murmured gravely. 'I can see that...'