The Accidental Bride Read Online Free PDF

that wasn’t it. As if on a time delay, a dream came back to her, strange and unsettling. John had been falling down and away from her into a void, a bit like lost and frozen Jack in the film
Titanic
. And it was all the more troubling because there seemed to be some kind of monster or perhaps luring siren down there in the deep, pulling him, dragging him down.
    Bloody fucking Clara! I don’t need to be Sigmund Freud to work that one out.
    Now Lizzie was the one who couldn’t sleep. She didn’t need to go down that road, lying awake in the dark, speculating, and yes, despite her better instincts, hating this unknown woman who’d been the love of John’s life before she was. And maybe still was, subconsciously, regardless of his conscious protestations that she, Lizzie, was The One.
    She rubbed her arms, chilled by the air.
    These Provençal nights could sometimes be a bit on the cool side, especially in the early hours. It’d been mild and pleasant when they’d been playing down in the grove, around midnight, but now in the deep, dark night of the soul, it was very cold. Lizzie pushed her feet into her Indian silk slippers as she stood, and dragged the cosy embroidered comforter off the bed, to wrap it around her shoulders.
    Where was John? Asleep in his own room? Down in the sitting room, working on his laptop? Or somewhere else?
    On instinct she padded to the open doors to the balcony, stepped out soundlessly, and peered out.
    A lone figure was sitting at the table on the patio, on the long bench that flanked it. The table reminded her of the one down in the grove. The two had probably been bought as a pair.
    John’s skin gleamed in the moonlight. Not with the golden, exotic glow it’d reflected from the oil lantern before, but a cooler, more silvery light now. A more troubled light. It seemed that he too was enduring his own dark night of the soul.
    Quietly, but still knowing he’d know she was coming, Lizzie crept down the wrought-iron steps that led from their bedroom balcony to the patio below, and joined him. He didn’t turn until she was right beside him, and slidingonto the bench. His face had a stark, uneasy quality to it that cut her to the quick on his behalf.
    She didn’t speak, but draped the voluminous comforter around his shoulders. It was plenty big enough for two.
    ‘Thanks, sweetheart. It’s a bit chilly, isn’t it?’ His smile lightened the mood a little, yet it seemed world weary. The warmth of his shoulder against hers was welcoming, though.
    ‘It certainly is. Which begs the question why you’re sitting out here in just your pyjama bottoms, freezing your nuts off?’
    John laughed. ‘Don’t worry, my nuts are fine. How’s your bottom? This bench isn’t exactly upholstered.’ He pressed a kiss to the side of her cheek.
    Goodness, she hadn’t noticed. She’d plonked down on the hard wood and barely felt anything. Which just showed what the magic of John’s beauty in the moonlight could do.
    ‘It’s much better now. Barely a twinge.’ She shuffled closer, feeling his skin warm in contact with hers. ‘What’s in there?’ She nodded at the cup he was cradling.
    Wordlessly, John offered it to her, and she brought it to her lips. Ooh, coffee. When she took a sip she almost reeled back. Good grief it was strong. Delicious, but ferociously potent.
    ‘Jesus, John, swigging this stuff isn’t going to help you sleep. With or without me in the room.’ Even so, she took another mouthful herself, needing to be braced up, if she was going to ask the thorny questions she’d so far avoided.
    When she passed the cup back to him, he stared into it, then put it aside, reaching for her hand.
    ‘I suppose I’m punishing myself. If I can’t sleep with you, I don’t deserve to sleep at all. Hence the caffeine.’
    ‘That’s just stupid.’
    He raised his hand to his lips, and kissed it in a vague, almost abstract way. ‘It is, isn’t it? I’m an idiot.’
    ‘Not an idiot,’ she