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Herpresence felt more solid and real than anything else in the room.Thebooks, the guests getting drunk on expensive champagne, the unexpected, imposing pipe organ at the other end of the room.Allof these things seemed like ghosts in a reality where only he existed withFrancesca.Theircameras hung around their necks, dormant.Heturned his head away from her, afraid that if he started gazing into her eyes, he wouldn’t be able to stop.Instead, his fingers fluttered towards hers.Herpinky brushed against his, and that small touch was everything.
Thecontact sent an electric shock through his body.Hecould feel himself growing hard with anticipation, a bad idea in these loose trousers.Withreluctance, he broke away, turned towards the wall and found sudden interest in photographing the carved ceiling.
Allhe desired was to find a moment alone to kiss her.Thatcould sustain him until later, when he planned to show her just how much he’d wanted her these past few weeks.Theday had been tiring, but he was sure he could squirrel away a parcel of energy for that.
Thewedding, which had seemed to fly by in the beginning, now dragged with the weight of expectation.Hethought he might get a moment with her during their lunch break, but the team ended up eating at different times.Thenthere were more family photos, more outfit changes, more cocktails on the lawn.
Finally, many hours later, the moment arrived after they’d photographed the couple, andParamjeetandIshanireturned to their chambers for a half hour alone before the final push.Theevening guests had arrived and were finding their seats in the massive marquee on the south lawn, where the meal would be served in an hour and the evening’s entertainment would take place.Forthe first time that day, nothing needed filming or photographing .
‘Iforgot something in the library.Backin a minute.Over,’Francesca’svoice said through the earpiece.
Shedidn’t have to tell him twice.Heknew she was talking just to him.
Fromthe door of the marquee, he saw her heading up the stairs to the palace, and he followed.Justbefore she disappeared into the building, she stopped and glanced over her shoulder, as though checking he’d gotten the message.Hecaught up with her as she was walking down the long corridor, portraits ofGeorgiandukes and duchesses watching on. ‘Francesca!’ he called out.
Shestopped and turned towards him with a brazen grin.
Theystood facing each other, both of them taking shallow breaths, like air was in short supply.
Searchingher eyes, he asked, ‘HaveIread things wrong?Or—’
‘No,’ she whispered, placing her palm against the centre of his chest and fingering the embroidery there.
‘Thankfuck for that.’Notwanting to rush the moment, he raised his hands to frame her face, stroking the top of her cheekbones with his thumbs.
Sheshivered and closed her eyes.
Slowly, he bent his lips towards hers.Herbreath tickled the bare skin where his beard used to be.
‘Surprise,Little!’ screeched a voice behind him. ‘I’vebeen looking everywhere for you.’
No, it couldn’t be…
Hemuttered a silent curse.Imaginarycold water doused his passion.Gazingdown atFrancesca’sconfused face, he said, ‘I’msorry.’
Andthen he spun around.
Francescahadno idea what was going on.Onesecond, all of herChristmaseswere about to come at once, and then bang!Gone!Krishapologised—for what, she didn’t know—and turned away from her.
Andwas she crazy, or was he trying to shield her from the interloper with his body?Hishands were on his hips, his elbows flapped out like elephant ears, as though trying to make himself a bigger barrier.Shestepped swiftly to the right to unmask the stranger’s identity.
Ankita,Krish’ssister, stood a few feet away, her neat baby bump hugged by a shimmering silver dress.Glossy, pregnancy-enhanced black hair hung loose over her shoulder.Ankitahad always been glamorous;Francescahad never seen her without full make-up.
WhenKrishandFrancescawere dating, she andKrish’ssister had gotten on well—better thanFrancescagot on with her own sister, anyway.Theyears had dulled her memory ofAnkita’svoice, but now she remembered theirBig/Littlenickname thing.
Francescasmiled and opened her mouth to say hello.
Ankitajumped in first. ‘Whatthe hell isshedoing here?’
IttookFrancescaa moment to realiseAnkitawas talking abouther.
‘She’sfilming the wedding.Whatareyoudoing here?’ counteredKrish.
Usingthe petite black designer clutch in her hand to gesticulate in the general direction of the wedding,Ankitasnapped, ‘Whodo you think got you this job?IknowIshanithrough work.’
‘Whydidn’t you tell me?’
‘BecauseIwanted to surprise you, dummy.Mustsay,I’mthe one who’s surprised.’
