Always The Seamstress Ch 02

I had a wonderful response to my first post, thank you all so much; I'm truly flattered! I have tried to be a bit more descriptive this time, but in response to a comment about the second paragraph in the first chapter, I'm not giving up the goods just yet as I have a master plan to - dare I say it?! - write a prequel. Eventually. This is double the length of ch. 01 (in case you were wondering) and there is also some French at the very end which I have translated at the bottom.

Thank you all again,

Love, Lily. X

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Lara's heart was pounding, her stomach was flipping and her skin was tingling as she gazed at the beautiful man. He probably wouldn't appreciate being called beautiful, but his even, unmistakably masculine features made him so. His dark, reddish hair fell over his forehead, and his green eyes glittered with intent.

It's adrenaline, not attraction.

She tried to convince herself.

I could have died! Technically.

She studied her rescuer again. He was still holding her. Lara was amazed; she may not be overweight, but she was still a fully grown woman and he didn't seem to be straining at all!

"Brother dear, let's put Lara down, hmm?" came from the doorway. Lara jerked in the man's arms and saw Ava, the bride, watching them with amusement and interest. Her face flushed. The Dreamboat's eyes flickered to his sister then back to Lara. He slid her down his body slowly, till her feet touched the floor yet kept his arm around her waist. Lara tried to take a step away, but the man's arm was immovable as steel. She continued to squirm and lean heavily against his toned forearm as Ava approached them, smiling.

"Lara, I see you've met my brother,Ruari. Ruari, this is Lara Matthews. She designed and made my wedding dress and the bridesmaids' dresses."

Lara struggled to compose herself and tried again to disentangle herself from Ruari, who released her begrudgingly. She couldn't believe she hadn't realised he was Ava's brother. The two were strikingly similar, though Ava's hair was a lighter, more vibrant shade of red.

"Enchanted," Ruari said simply, tracing circles on her inner wrist with his thumb as he brought her hand to his mouth and turned it to plant a reverent kiss in her palm. Lara stared at him like an idiot, shocked by the intimate gesture which caused her thighs to tingle.

Damn it, where'd my sass go?

Through the roof with your libido?

Oh, there it is. Not helpful!

Nor is having a conversation with yourself. In fact, it's a common indicator of severe mental illness.

"Lara?" Ava asked softly, "Are you okay?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Fine, thank you. Wonderful, really."

Blabbering idiot.

"Lovely to meet you, Mr McCarthy,"

"Ruari, please. Such formality would be wrong between mates,"

and he was doing so well. It's a shame really

. Lara hated slang. Was it really any harder to say 'friend' than 'mate'? Honestly. Lara deduced from Ava's narrowed eyes that she felt the same and decided that they

would

be

friends

.

"Ruari, you need to go now. The bridesmaids will be here soon and we all need to start getting ready. Did you bring Lara's cheque?"

"Erm... must have left my chequebook on my desk," he said with an innocent expression, "I'll find you later, Lara."

Her insides quivered at the intensity of his gaze, and she let out a long breath as he loped out of the room, casting a grin back at them both and narrowly avoiding the doorframe.

*

Sitting in a corner of the ballroom with a glass of champagne and her slightly-aching feet propped on another chair hidden discreetly by the table cloth, Lara had watched the progression of the reception fondly. The bride and groom hadn't left the dance floor – hadn't looked anywhere but each other – since their first dance began. Lara had never been to a wedding like it. In structure and ceremony it had, she supposed, been much the same as most others, but Lara doubted she'd ever again witness - experience even - the overwhelming depth of love the couple had for each other, and the happiness and friendly ease of all their guests. She sighed happily and finished her champagne.

It's something out of a fairy tale.

She thought.

"Dance with me," Ruari's deep voice whispered over her bare arms leaving goosebumps in its wake.

"Is that a demand or a request?" She flirted.

"It's an excuse."

She raised a brow.

"I want to know if you really fit perfectly into my arms, or if alcohol has affected my recollection of this morning," he said softly, his gaze roving searchingly over her face.

"Far be it from me to deny you your satisfaction,"

The corner of his mouth kicked up, "I'll remember you said that."

He helped her to her feet and she was glad she'd worn her favourite dress to dance in. The powder pink dress had a pleated chiffon skirt which flowed fabulously as she moved, lending her a false elegance. The heat of his hand against her lower back was electrifying as they glided onto the floor.

"You look beautiful," he murmured as he pulled her closer.

"You're looking very dapper yourself, Mr McCarthy."

He growled. "

Ruari.

" He admonished.

"Did you just growl at me? Like some sort of wild animal?"

"Maybe..."

"How very titillating,"

"Not yet." He pulled her away from the other dancers and out into the main lobby of the hotel. It was completely deserted since it was close to midnight and all members of staff were tending the party.

"You're driving me mad," he confessed, pushing her against the wall. "I never knew I liked vanilla this much."

"Vanilla?"

"Your smell. I love it. Vanilla and jasmine." He leaned in closer.

"We shouldn't,"

"But you want to,"

"It's not right!"

"No," he whispered against her lips, "It's perfect."

His lips brushed softly against hers, a soft entreaty giving her ample opportunity to pull away, but she couldn't. He was right: she did want this. She was inexplicably drawn to this tall, lean man with his auburn hair and emerald gaze.

What's a girl to do?

She kissed him back. He groaned and lifted her, bringing her closer from her 5'5 height to his 6'3, allowing him to kiss her more deeply, to ravage her mouth more thoroughly. One hand cupped her face, his thumb stroking lightly over her cheek as the other clutched her hip, pulled her flush against his erection. She wrapped one leg around him, her calf locking with the back of his knee, settling his hard thigh between hers. Her hands were in his hair, on his shoulders, urging him on as he began to grind against her. Her arousal snowballed and –

"McCarthy,"

She felt his body tense against hers, but he didn't turn around as he broke the kiss, panting slightly.

"Not quite the position I was expecting to find you in. Meeting. My office, now. Tell the others." The voice was deep. Raspy and authoritative. Lara felt Ruari's shoulders slump as he lowered her to the ground and pressed a soft kiss against her forehead. He gazed at her for long seconds before nodding over his shoulder and striding away briskly, fists clenched.

Lara was startled by her first look at The Interrupter. She could tell, although he was leaning against the opposite wall with his hands in his pockets, that he was noticeably taller than Ruari, probably about 6'6 or 6'7 and was barefooted, wearing only slacks and a roughly buttoned, untucked white shirt. There was a few days' worth of stubble on his square jaw, and his black hair fell haphazardly to his shoulders. His face was arrogant and proud, and beneath his heavy brow his blue eyes were disturbingly pale and predatory.

"I don't believe I know you," he said lazily, pushing off from the wall and strolling towards her. It was as he approached that she realised the true extent of his size. Not only was he tall, he was

broad

and if the forearms revealed by his rolled up sleeves were any indication, he was also thickly muscled. She felt a frisson of fear skitter down her spine.

"Lara Matthews, designer of the wedding dress." She didn't like his mien, but she could tell this man was dangerous and wanted to avoid antagonizing him.

"Well then, Lara, I trust that you are here in a professional capacity?" he asked drily, sneering at her as she nodded. "Wonderful. I do hope that professionalism isn't... compromised," Lara narrowed her eyes at the overgrown, insufferable ass who planted his hand on the wall above her head and leaned in even closer.

"It could be quite damaging to your reputation," he added softly, yet threateningly.

His blatant attempt to bully her ignited her recalcitrance and shoved aside her fear temporarily.

Caution be damned! It's not like he can kill me, though he probably knows a million ways how...

"And a law suit for intimidation could be quite damaging to your bank account!" she retorted.

"Is that what I'm doing?" He dropped his head alongside her neck and inhaled deeply, "Clearly. The scent of your fear is... intoxicating."

Lara struggled to contain her whimper as he held his position for a few seconds longer before he flashed her a grin which clearly displayed all of his teeth in a menacing gesture, and walked leisurely in the same direction as Ruari had gone.

"I won't be seeing you again, Miss Matthews." He tossed over his shoulder.

*

Lara slid down the wall, heart racing, and pulled her knees to her chest, dropping her head into her hands.

"Too much wine?"

She looked up to see one of the bridesmaids hovering over her.

Carrie, perhaps.

"My assistant just called..." Lara improvised, "I need to return to London immediately to deal with a Bridal Breakdown."

"Is that an official term?" Carrie laughed, "Ava and Cian have left now, so everything will wind down soon. My brother will be leaving shortly as he needs to be back in Dublin tomorrow morning for work. I'm sure you'll be packed by the time he's ready to go so he could probably drive you to the airport, if you'd like?"

"That would be wonderful, thank you." She smiled.

After the woman had gone, Lara fished her phone out of her bra and dialled her half-sister.

I'm not a coward, I'm not a coward.

The monotonous answerphone indicated that she should leave a message. She waited for the beep.

"Angélique? C'est moi. Je viens à Paris. J'ai besoin d'une vacance..."

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Angélique? It's me. I'm coming to Paris. I need a holiday..."