Chapter 26

As I'm holding Lydia, realisation smacks me in the face. How am I ever going to let her go? Nothing has ever felt the way it does with her.

‘That was quite something,' she says eventually, looking up at me – we've been standing like shell-shocked soldiers for a good few minutes. My heart rate is still jittery and erratic.

‘It was,' I agree, resting my forehead against her, taking another shallow breath. There's so much I want to say to her. The words are bubbling in my throat, but they won't surface, I can't get them out. Instead, I stroke her hair and hold on tight. Just having her in my arms, with her arms wrapped around my waist, grounds and steadies me. Suddenly all the cheesy lines from movies make sense, coalescing in a bright crystal moment.

The feelings burgeoning inside me are so big and full it feels like I'm trapped inside a balloon, feeling my way, stretching and trying to push through the outer skin. I need to put them into words but I don't have the lexicon or the experience. Love in our family has always been dealt out like cards, limited to one hand at a time, dependent on winning the last game. I don't know how to put into words the limitless depth of emotion. It's euphoric and terrifying at the same time.

I lift my hand to cup Lydia's cheeks and stare down into her face, hoping that I can share the feeling with my eyes alone.

And just like that her mouth curves and she brings her hand up to cover mine. My heart stumbles at the soft expression on her lovely face. How did I not notice before how beautiful she is, inside and out? And then suddenly it's simple.

‘You're everything,' I tell her.

‘Everything?' she asks and there's a question in her eyes.

‘Everything. I am so gone on you, Lydia. I don't want this to be over after today.'

She swallows. ‘Do you mean that?' It's the most uncertain thing I've ever heard her say and I realise that she has never been loved properly, so how can she trust the words?

‘I mean it.' I kiss her slowly on the lips before lifting my head and looking into her eyes. ‘I love you. You've healed something I didn't know needed healing. I never knew was there.'

To my surprise, a tear rolls down her cheek.

‘Hey,' I say, swiping it away with my thumb. ‘What's this?'

She gives a breathy laugh. ‘That's a lovely thing to say. Thank you.'

With a sniff, she gives me a bleary smile.

‘Don't cry.' My heart hurts to see her tears.

‘It's nothing. I'm just happy.'

Not that it bothers me but I notice she hasn't told me she loves me.

‘We should probably get ready for the party,' she says. ‘Thank goodness trainers with dresses are a thing.'

‘Or we could stay up here,' I tease, my heart lifting, despite noticing that she's the one that's moved on to the practical.

‘You're insatiable. And I think your parents might notice that we haven't made an appearance.'

‘You're no fun.'

She quirks an eyebrow. ‘You weren't saying that five minutes ago.'

I kiss her, light-hearted and happy. It's not something I associate with being in this house.

‘Shower time,' I say.

With a grin, she lifts my T-shirt over my head. ‘Okay then.'

When Lydia sits on the edge of the bed to remove the dressing on her leg, before we get in the shower, I see how red and puffy it is. She catches my gaze.

‘It's okay. Looks worse than it is,' she says with a weak smile.

‘As soon as Annette gets here, she is taking a look.'

‘You worry too much,' she says and distracts me by running her hand down my chest and pushing down my trousers. ‘And you've got too many clothes on.' With that she strips off her bra and knickers and dashes into the bathroom. Wrestling out of my trousers I follow her.

‘No funny business,' she says looking over her shoulder from beneath the stream of water, when I step into the big walk-in enclosure behind her. Her wet hair fans down her back as the water flows over her body and I want to scoop her into my arms again. I can already feel myself stiffening.

‘No funny business,' I promise, even though the evidence below my waist is to the contrary. I take the expensive shampoo my mother provides in every bathroom whether me and my brother and sister are here or not and pump a good handful into my palm. Lifting my hands to the crown of her head, I begin to gently rub the soap in, taking my time, massaging her scalp.

‘Mmm, that's good,' she murmurs. Her throaty appreciation, when I run my fingers through her hair to remove the soap, turns me on even more and I step closer, bringing my slick hands down across her breasts.

As my fingers touch her nipples, she goes limp and slumps against my body, her bottom nestling into me, warm and soft against my rock-hard dick. ‘I thought you said no funny business,' I tease. Despite her words, her hands cup mine, urging them on as she sighs, her head falling back against my shoulder.

Then she turns around and slides down my body and without any fuss, takes my cock into her mouth. She's a vision, water streaming down her back, her head bent, taking long slow drugging pulls along my length.

‘Lydia,' I half groan, half pant. ‘Oh sweet Jesus.'

She continues sucking and her mouth is so hot and tight and I can't stop watching her as I head for oblivion.

My balls tighten. There's tension in every part of my body and then my orgasm shoots like a white hot flame of pure incandescent pleasure. My knees almost give way but I haul Lydia to her feet and hold her tight, burying my face in her neck as the water pours over both of us.

‘You're going to kill me,' I manage. All I want to do is close my eyes, lie down and hold her.

She gives me an insouciant grin. ‘Would be a shame not to go with a bang.'

I laugh and hug her again. ‘Who's incorrigible now?'

Eventually she steps out of the shower, wrapping herself in a towel.

‘I need to dry my hair.'

She leaves the bathroom and I switch off the shower, momentarily feeling cold and bereft. I don't like the feeling, it's like someone's walked over my grave. An unwelcome reminder that nothing lasts for ever.

When I walk into the bedroom, there's a pair of trousers and a shirt that William must have dropped off while we were in the shower. It brings a slight blush to my cheeks. Normally I wouldn't be the least bit embarrassed – it wouldn't matter if he'd heard anything – but this is Lydia. And William is a crass idiot, he would make it tawdry. Taking the piss because that's what we do. Get in first, before the other can. If he says anything I will kill him.

‘You look fierce,' says Lydia, looking at me in the mirror of the dressing table where she's sitting drying her hair into soft, glossy curls. Her towel is tucked around her chest, her shoulders bare, and I drop a kiss on her smooth, pale skin. She has a tiny freckle at the base of her neck and I go back to drop another kiss up on it.

‘And you look gorgeous.' I smile at her reflection.

‘You don't have to say things like that,' she says focusing on her hair, lifting her chin slightly. It's a gesture I recognise. Lydia going into battle, preparing her defences.

‘I know I don't have to but I want to, because it's true.'

She frowns and I stroke a finger along her elegant collar bone. It's not like Lydia to be insecure.

In the mirror we make a good-looking couple. ‘I noticed you as soon as I saw you at that insurance dinner. When I realised you were sitting on the same table, I swapped the place cards around.'

She turns round, her mouth dropping open. ‘I didn't know that. You never said before.'

Because I hadn't wanted her to know that I'd fallen hard and fast the very first time I saw her and I've been fighting it ever since. But now my white flag is at full mast.

I shrug but give her a cocky grin. I can see that I've genuinely surprised her. ‘Good move, I'd say.'

She shakes her head. ‘Sure of yourself, weren't you?'

‘No.' I reach out and trace a finger over her lower lip. ‘Hopeful. I've never done that before.'

‘Neither have I.'

We look at each other and I have another one of those moments where my heart expands with warmth and happiness.

There's a knock on the door and William shouts through it. ‘Mum wants to know when you'll be ready. She wants some family time before the party starts.'

‘We'll be down soon.' Family time is interrogation time. What are we all doing? Who is doing better? It's a tried and trusted Dereborn tradition.

Seeing my reluctant expression, Lydia squeezes my hand. ‘I'm nearly done.'

Five minutes later, we're ready to go. In Rosie's dress she looks ethereal and elegant, not the Lydia I'm used to at all. I can't decide if I like her in it or not.

‘Look at me,' she says with a laugh, flapping her frothy skirt. ‘I look like an extra from Midsummer Night's Dream.' I laugh because while she's delicate in build she's the least fairy-like person I've ever met, which is what I like most about her. She's solid, real and persistent. She doesn't give up on things easily. Least of all me, it seems.

I hold out my arm and she hooks hers through it. ‘Let's do this,' she says, squeezing my bicep. ‘Just don't do a Cinderella and forget we have a deadline and a date in Trafalgar Square.'

‘Not a chance.'

We leave the room and I'm conscious of her limp as we descend the stairs into the hall. Fuss or not, as soon as Annette arrives, she's on doctor duty.