Classic Novel
40
After the wedding ceremony, there’d been a photo session outside the church. Simon had emerged, headed straight for the married couple, shook Scott’s hand, kissed the bride, a dazzling smile accompanying his congratulations, but the smile hadn’t been turned on Sara. He hadn’t even looked at her when it was time for the group photos, including the one with just the two of them.
He’d seemed reluctant to touch her too as they took the picture, but even as his arm wrapped around her waist for the few seconds when they took the picture, he’d barely looked at her.NôvelD(ram)a.ôrg owns this content.
With her heart turning over with disappointment, she’d watched him go chat with everyone, including her mom, and then move to the side of a very stylish blond woman. The same woman who was by his side now.
Sara told herself repeatedly that she didn’t care. Besides, her own role as Chief bridesmaid had kept her busy; seeing that Vivian was posed perfectly for the photographs, then helping her into the car with Scott, ensuring the billowing layers of tulle didn’t get caught on anything. Simon, she had then argued to herself, was probably waiting until she had some time to herself.
There’d been another much longer session with the photographer in the lovely garden setting at Wisteria House where the reception had been booked. The two-storeyed home had wonderful verandas, their supporting columns skirted by ornate white lace ironwork. Guests had been invited onto the upper veranda to watch all the formal posing in the garden while they were served cocktails and hors d’oeuvres.
Several times Sara had felt Simon’s gaze burning into her, but when she’d glanced up at the onlooking crowd, his attention was not focused on her at all.
Scott called him over, insisting he wanted a shot of Simon with himself and Vivian. Simon obliged his old friend but laughingly declined posing for a foursome with Sara.
“Oh we have taken so many pictures already,” he’d excused, and then he was gone again, leaving Sara with the feeling he was avoiding any contact with her. Yet why would that be so?
Okay yes, so maybe she’d ignored all his texts and calls, but he deserved it after the horrible things he’d said to her and accused her of, but she hadn’t chased him, hadn’t made a nuisance of herself. At the end of the night they’d shared, she hadn’t tried to cling on or press for some further involvement with him. Did he fear she would now? Make some kind of scene he’d hate? Or… her stomach cramped at the thought… had he met some other woman he wanted to keep? It would explain why he’d been so reluctant to be linked to her in a photograph.
The torment of not knowing what he was thinking plagued her all through the reception dinner. Despite the fact that they were all seated at the bridal table and he seemed to be quite chatty with everyone else, Simon didn’t once switch his attention to her.
The only evidence that he hadn’t completely forgotten their short time together and its intimate aftermath was the one long sizzling look outside the church, and that certainly wasn’t being repeated.
Sara doggedly ate what was put in front of her, assured Vivian the food was great without knowing whether it was or not, forced adequate responses to the general chat at the bridal table, smiled when a smile was expected. She sat through the speeches without hearing a word, though her gaze remained fixed on each speaker as though she was listening avidly. But she was dying inside, drowning in a sea of painful confusion and frustration. She could only hope no one noticed. It was her brother’s wedding for God’s sake.
_________
Simon grilled his teeth, fighting the surge of violence that urged him to wipe the smirk off the face of the man who was currently dancing with Sara. He wanted to tear his arm from Sara’s waist, and break the fingers that were feeling their way up the erotic curve of her spine.
His gaze targeted the dance floor. Other couples were jigging apart, happily putting their own steps to the beat of the music. Not Sara and her partner, who was all too conveniently no taller than she was. The guy, who was one of the groomsmen, had her thighs glued to his, and the hand now spread over the lower slope of the pit of her back was definitely applying pressure.
A red haze of fury tinged Simon’s thoughts. He knew dancing wasn’t on Kevin Macy’s mind. More like wet dreams. The guy undoubtedly had an erection. Any minute now he’d be dancing Sara out the opened French doors, finding a shadowed place on the veranda…
His chair almost tipped over as Simon erupted onto his feet. It had taken iron control not to make any connection with Sara McCall this time around, but be damned if he was going to let some other guy connect with her right under his nose. He barely stopped himself from charging like a bull, head down, nostrils steaming, horns lowered ready to gore. It was certainly how he felt.
Sara knew she should slop what Kevin Macy was doing. She’d slid into a careless passive state, too drained of energy to bother forcing a break away from him. Nevertheless, being nice to him did not include allowing him this frottage on the dance floor. It was getting downright dirty and he was probably nursing ideas she didn’t want to encourage.
He was not the man for her. He never would be. And she didn’t care if Vivian scolded her for not grabbing what was available. All too available, Sara thought grimly, screwing up the strength to make a few things clear to Kevin Macy. Just as she was lifting her gaze to his face, she saw a hand clamp over his shoulder, a strong darkly toned hand, its fingers bent like lethal claws, digging into Kevin’s suitcoat. Her heart instantly skipped a beat.
“Hey!” Kevin protested, loosening his grip on her as he half turned to face the threatened assault.
Simon Hamilton glowered at him from his intimidating height, the power of his physique a ready deterrent to any argument, though he didn’t need it. The aggressive energy he emitted was enough to drop Kevin’s jaw and kill any further words he might have spoken.