Lucy Gordon

The Final Falcon Says I Do


Скачать книгу

not coming.’

      ‘What do you mean?’ Freya asked. ‘Is he ill? Oh, heavens, I must go to him.’

      ‘No, he’s not ill,’ Jackson said. ‘I’m sorry, Freya, but he changed his mind at the last minute. He got out of the car and ran. I don’t even know where he is now.’

      ‘He ran?’ Freya whispered. ‘To get away from me? Oh, no!’ She withdrew her hand from Amos’s arm and faced Jackson. ‘But why?’

      ‘He lost his nerve,’ Jackson said uneasily.

      The words seemed to swirl in Freya’s head, meaningless yet full of monstrous meaning.

      ‘What—what do you mean—lost his nerve?’ she stammered. ‘It doesn’t take nerve to—to—’

      To marry someone you love. The words were on the tip of her tongue, yet some power stopped her from saying them.

      Jackson understood and struggled for an answer.

      ‘It’s a big occasion,’ he managed. ‘Some men can’t cope.’

      But Dan was used to big occasions, and they both knew it. Freya’s look of disbelief told Jackson he’d have to do better than that.

      ‘Why?’ she said fiercely. ‘What really happened?’

      ‘He just—couldn’t cope suddenly.’

      Freya swung away from him, trying to cope with the feelings that stormed through her. Pain, disbelief, disillusion, humiliation all fought for supremacy. Humiliation won.

      Dan had charmed her, filled her grey world with light and made her feel special—the kind of woman that other women envied. Now he was knocking her down in the eyes of the world. She clenched her hands into fists, holding them up against her eyes and emitting a soft groan.

      Behind her Jackson said, ‘Freya—’ reaching out to touch her, but she pulled away.

      ‘I’m all right,’ she said, dropping her hands.

      He didn’t believe it for a moment, but he respected her determination to appear strong.

      Amos was in a stew, growling, ‘Just let me get my hands on him.’

      It was on the tip of Jackson’s tongue to hurl a bitter accusation at his father, telling him how his actions had been the trigger. With a huge effort at control he fought back the words for Freya’s sake.

      A murmur was rising from the congregation as they sensed trouble. The vicar drew close and spoke quietly.

      ‘Perhaps you’d like to come into the back and talk privately?’

      Amos reached out to take Freya’s hand but Jackson was there first, slipping his arm around her and leading her away to where there were no curious eyes. The family followed them.

      When they were safely in the back room Jackson repeated the story, keeping hold of Freya’s hand, feeling the terrible stillness that had settled over her.

      ‘Why did he do it?’ she whispered. ‘What did he say?’

      ‘Only that when he came to the point—he just couldn’t,’ Jackson prevaricated, wishing the earth would swallow him up.

      ‘I’ll kill him,’ Amos muttered.

      ‘Join the queue,’ Travis said. ‘We’ll all enjoy doing that.’

      ‘No,’ Freya said. ‘This is for me to take care of. I must speak to him. I need a phone.’

      ‘Not now,’ Jackson said quickly.

      ‘Yes, now,’ she said.

      Darius produced a cell phone. Freya reached for it but Jackson got there first, seizing her wrist and shaking his head to make his brother back off.

      ‘Let go of me,’ she said. ‘Darius—’

      But Darius had read the dark message in Jackson’s eyes.

      ‘He’s right, Freya,’ he admitted. ‘Not just now. Give yourself a moment first.’

      She turned furious eyes on Jackson.

      ‘You’ve got a nerve. Who are you to tell me what to do?’

      ‘I’m your stepbrother who’s concerned about you,’ he said firmly.

      ‘And who thinks he can dictate to me. Give me that phone. I must talk to Dan.’

      ‘Wait. Let me try.’

      He didn’t know what he was trying to achieve by speaking to Dan first. The situation was already a car wreck. But he took out his own cell phone and dialled the number. There was only silence.

      Freya lost patience, seizing the phone from him and dialling again. Still there was no response. She closed her eyes, feeling as though she was surrounded by an infinity in which there was neither light nor sound. Only nothingness. At last she gave up. Her shoulders sagged.

      ‘He’s turned his phone off,’ she said bleakly. ‘He really is running away from me. I’ve got to get out of here. How can I find a way out through the back? I can’t go back down the aisle with everyone watching.’

      ‘Come on,’ Jackson said, taking her arm before anyone else in the family could do so and leading her out.

      To his relief an exit soon appeared. But his relief was short-lived. His arrival without Dan had been seen and the word had already gone round, both in the congregation and the waiting press. People were gathering at the back of the church, alive with curiosity. When Freya appeared a cry went up.

      ‘There she is! What happened? Where’s the groom?’

      ‘Get away!’ Jackson yelled. ‘Leave her alone.’

      He got in front of her, waving his hands to force them back.

      ‘It’s all right,’ he said, turning back to her. ‘Freya—Freya?’

      She had gone, running away down the street in a way that ironically echoed Dan’s escape. For the second time that day Jackson gave chase, this time catching up easily.

      ‘Go away,’ she cried. ‘Leave me alone.’

      She turned and would have run again but he seized her shoulders.

      ‘Let me go.’

      ‘Freya, I can’t do that. Heaven knows what would happen to you. I’m not taking that risk.’

      ‘It’s my risk, nobody else’s,’ she cried. ‘Do you think I care?’

      ‘No, but I care.’

      ‘Let me go!’

      ‘No! I’ve said no and I mean no, so stop arguing. Taxi!’

      By great good luck one had appeared. He hustled her inside, gave the driver the address of the hotel where the family was staying, then got into the back and took her into his arms.

      ‘Let it out,’ he said. ‘Cry if you want to.’

      ‘I’m not going to cry,’ she declared. ‘I’m all right.’

      But as he held her he knew she was far from all right, perhaps not weeping but shaking violently. He drew her close to him, patting her shoulder but saying nothing. Words would not help now. He could only offer friendship, knowing that even that was feeble against the blow that had struck her.

      At last she looked up and he saw her face, pale and devastated.

      ‘I’m here,’ he said. ‘Hold onto me.’

      Even as he said it he felt foolish. Yes, he was there, the person whose clumsiness had helped to bring about this disaster. But there was nothing else to say.

      At last the hotel came in sight, and at once he knew he had another calamity on his hands. The front