Reminding himself firmly that the sort of affair he wanted lasted for a lifetime, he ran a hand over the back of his neck and looked at his brother. ‘Do you want to ask me about my speech?’
Oliver yawned. ‘If you’re planning to shock the guests, I probably ought to warn you that they already know all my secrets.’
Tom nodded. ‘Actually, I wasn’t really planning to talk about you at all.’
An idea was beginning to form in his mind.
‘I am, after all, only the groom,’ Oliver muttered, his tone ironic. Then he caught the look in his brother’s eyes and squeezed his shoulder. ‘I don’t care what you say. We’ll all be drunk by then, anyway.’
The organ sounded and Oliver straightened. ‘Here we go. And I tell you now, this is positively the last time I’m wearing this suit. When you finally get your act together and marry Sally, you take me as I am.’
Tom glanced over his shoulder, tension rising within him as he saw Helen pause at the top of the aisle.
Behind her was Sally, and Tom caught his breath. She was wearing a slinky green silk dress that hugged her figure and her blonde hair was caught up with delicate flowers.
She looked young and vulnerable and Tom felt his throat close.
How could he ever have let this woman go?
He must have been mad.
Watching them walk down the aisle, his eyes met Sally’s and held, refusing to let her look away.
Had Oliver not nudged him sharply he would have totally neglected his duties as best man.
But somehow he managed to get through the ceremony and the photographs, and finally he was in the car with Sally and Bryony on the short journey to the manor house where the reception was being held.
‘These shoes are killing me.’ Bryony bent down and undid the tiny buckles that fastened the shoes at the ankles. ‘How does Helen ever walk in these?’
‘I think she’s had special training.’ Sally laughed, lifting her dress slightly so that she could see her feet. ‘I have to confess that I love them, actually.’
Tom swallowed, unable to drag his gaze away from her legs. She was wearing sheer stockings that shimmered temptingly and suddenly he wished that his sister wasn’t in the car with them.
‘You look beautiful, too, Tom,’ Bryony said teasingly. ‘Don’t you think he looks beautiful, Sal? But you’re very quiet, brother, darling. Why are you so quiet?’
Sally looked at him, her green eyes searching. ‘Is your leg hurting?’
The concern in her voice filled him with hope. If she was concerned then it must mean that she cared, and if she cared …
‘My leg isn’t hurting.’
‘Perhaps he’s nervous about his speech,’ Sally said huskily, and suddenly Tom knew exactly what he was going to say in his speech.
And he wasn’t nervous at all.
* * *
Silence fell over the room as Tom rose to his feet, and the clink of glasses and the laughter gradually faded to nothing.
Watching him from her seat, it occurred to Sally that while Oliver looked jolly uncomfortable in formal dress, Tom looked staggeringly sexy.
But he was a man who would look sexy in nothing.
And she should know.
She looked at his handsome face, listened to the relaxed way that he opened his speech and the way that he had everyone laughing within moments.
Last night she’d wanted so much to tell him that she loved him, but he hadn’t given her the chance.