The Baby Bet: The Royal MacAllister Part 13

Alone and lonely, having loved and lost the most magnificent man who walked this earth. The man she would love until she drew her last breath. The man she would ache for, miss so much, cry tears for during the bleak, dark hours of the night for a long, long time.

Chapter Eleven.

The next morning the MacAllisters were treated to a tour of the island while riding in a long wagon with padded seats and pulled by a team of eight sleek horses.

To Alice's utmost relief, none of the Bardows were at breakfast, although a cheerful Charlane arrived at the castle in time to accompany the group on the tour.

When Maggie commented on Alice's puffy, red-rimmed eyes, she popped on a pair of sungla.s.ses and told her cousin that she was apparently allergic to something that was in bloom that she wasn't accustomed to.

"That's certainly understandable, Alice," Charlane said. "There's a mult.i.tude of flowers here that aren't grown in Ventura. You'll build up a tolerance for them in time, never fear." She smiled brightly. "Providing, of course, that you're in close proximity to the blossoms for a, shall we say, extended period."

Alice managed to produce a small smile, then climbed into the wagon and smothered a weary sigh.

Charlane Bardow, she thought, was about as subtle as a rock. She was making it clear that she fully expected Alice to marry Brent and live on Wils.h.i.+re, which would solve the nagging little problem of being allergic to the flowers growing there.

But that wasn't going to happen, nor was the condition of her less-than-attractive eyes due to being allergic to the plants. She'd wept her way through the long night, dozing from total exhaustion at times, then waking again to cry into her pillow over the heartbreaking loss of her Brent.

Oh, dear heaven, she wanted to go home, Alice thought, as King Chester pointed out things of interest they were pa.s.sing as the horses plodded along. How was she going to get through the following days without falling apart, dissolving into a puddle of tears and telling everyone that her heart was smashed to smithereens?

Get a grip, she told herself. The only thing that Brent had been right about during his tirade last night was the fact that nothing should spoil Maggie and Devon's special event. She would have to reach deep within herself for the fort.i.tude to produce a cheerful demeanor, not give one clue that anything was wrong.

But, oh, G.o.d, how was she going to bear being close to Brent at the scheduled events and pretend they were still madly in love with each other, give everyone the impression that the next wedding on the calendar would be the exchanging of vows between Alice MacAllister and Brent Bardow?

Oh, Brent, Alice thought, blinking away sudden tears. She loved him so much. If only there was something that she could do, or say, to make him believe in her again. But there wasn't. It was hopeless. It was over.

"Alice," Jillian whispered, leaning close to her daughter in the seat they were sharing.

"Yes, Mother?" Alice said, turning her head while being very grateful that she'd remembered to pack the sungla.s.ses she intended to wear at every opportunity.

"There are b.u.mps in the road of love," Jillian said quietly, so only Alice could hear, "in every romance since the beginning of time. The true test of love is not to give up, not leave that road because it's painful for you at the moment."

"I never said-" Alice started.

"I'm your mother, my darling," Jillian said gently. "I know you're very unhappy right now, although your being allergic to the flowers number was very inventive. Only a woman who is deeply in love would have cried as you have. Don't give up on what you and Brent have together just because, for whatever reason, you two have hit a rocky spot in the road."

"I have no choice but to accept that it's over," Alice said, struggling against her tears. "Brent truly believes that I..." She shook her head. "I can't talk about it or I'll... I promise I won't do anything to spoil things for Maggie and Devon. That's the only thing that Brent and I are in accord about."

Jillian patted her daughter's knee. "I understand. But do remember that I'm here for you. Think about what I said, too. True love can weather many storms."

"Not this storm," Alice said, smiling slightly. "This is a hurricane, a tornado and a typhoon all wrapped up in a devastating package that has destroyed what Brent and I had beyond repair. I-"

"To your right," King Chester said, bringing Alice and Jillian back to attention, "as far as the eye can see are Brent's vineyards. Devon handles the paperwork, the management end of things. Brent works side by side with his employees in the fields. Brent is a man of the earth, a nurturer, who gives his heart and soul to what he loves. We're extremely proud of what he's accomplished for all of us here on Wils.h.i.+re."

Yes, Alice thought, reflecting on King Chester's words. That was how he had loved her, would have loved the children they would have created together. Totally. Absolutely. A man of the earth, who worked so hard, so diligently for what he believed in and cherished. Oh, what they would have had as husband and wife, father and mother, partners, soul mates.

Oh, what would have been, but would never be.

That afternoon a final fitting of the bridesmaids' dresses took place in one of the mult.i.tude of huge bedrooms in the castle.

Maggie had chosen rainbow colors for her attendants: Jessica in pink, Emily wearing yellow, and to Alice's dismay, her dress was a lighter shade of Brent's blue eyes.

The seamstress, Ruth, was a wonder, had made the dresses from nothing more than Maggie's descriptions of her cousin's figures. Shoes had been dyed to match the material and only the hems to the dresses were yet to be done.

Emily's dress, however, had to be taken in as she had shed another six pounds during the month since the royal family had left Ventura.

"I'm sorry to cause you extra work," Emily said to Ruth, who was pinning the dress, "but I'm personally thrilled that I'm actually sticking to my diet. And this time I intend to keep the weight off permanently. I'd hate to add up how many pounds I've lost and gained over the years."

"It's no problem to fix this," Ruth said. "But I hope you don't get as skinny as your sisters. Women need to be women, not sticks."

"Hear, hear," Jessica said, laughing. "Bring on some chocolate."

"It's true," Ruth said. "You need meat on your bones so you can nurse many healthy babies."

"My baby days are over," Emily said, smiling. "My son is nearly as tall as I am already. I'm overdue to be a stick."

"You have many years left to have babies," Ruth said, frowning. "Why would you say your baby days are over, Emily?"

"Because," Emily said, suddenly serious, "that's...that's the way I want it. No men in my life, no babies in my future. I'm just creating a home for me and my son, running my own business. That's all I need." She smiled again. "Now, Jessica and Tr...Alice are a different story. Talk to them about putting meat on their bones so they can nurse those babies you're speaking of."

Jessica laughed. "All in good time, Emily. Do remember that I became an instant mother to Tessa when I married Daniel. One in diapers is enough to handle at the moment. There. I'm off the hook."

"For now," Emily said. "That leaves our sister Alice, the Stick. From what we all saw when we arrived at the airport here, Brent is obviously thinking about more than just grapes."

Alice sent a frantic look to her mother, and Jillian got quickly to her feet from where she was sitting on a love seat.

"I believe Emily's dress needs to be nipped in just a tad more at the waist," she said, crossing the room. "What do you think?" She swept her gaze over the other women in the room, prompting opinions to be offered.

Thank you, Mother, Alice thought, sinking onto an easy chair. How very sad this charade was. She was once again pretending to be someone she wasn't, keeping the secret of her broken heart from those who loved her unconditionally. But she had to do it this way for Maggie's sake.

Somehow, somehow, when she saw Brent at dinner that night she'd appear carefree and happy, would stay close to his side, not give even one hint that there was anything wrong between them. Somehow.

"There he is," Charlane said as Brent strode into the dining room that evening. "Late, per usual."

"Sorry," Brent said, sliding onto his chair next to Alice. "I had a long-distance call at the last minute, but I'm here now. Bring on the food."

"And hungry, per usual," Byron said, chuckling.

"h.e.l.lo, sweet person," Brent said. He kissed Alice on the cheek but didn't look into her eyes. "Did you have a nice day?"

"Yes," she said, fiddling with her napkin, "it was lovely."

"Good," Brent said. "Ah, here comes the soup. I am one famished man."

How on earth was she going to choke down this food? Alice thought miserably. Brent was sitting right there next to her, only a handful of inches away, yet the distance she could feel between them was like a deep chasm that could not be crossed.

She could feel, actually feel, the vibrant heat emanating from Brent's powerful body, could smell his musky aftershave and the lingering aroma of fresh soap from his shower.

Her cheek where he'd kissed her, she thought, forcing herself not to place her fingertips there, was still tingling with warmth, evoking memories of the lovemaking they'd shared.

"Didn't she, Alice?" Emily asked, snapping Alice back to attention.

"Pardon me?"

"The seamstress, Ruth," Emily said. "She was a delightful woman who decided that Jessica and you were built like sticks and needed to fatten up some so you could nurse your healthy, bouncing babies."

"I..." Alice said.

"Some women would rather focus on their careers than have babies," Brent said.

Oh, Brent, Alice thought, don't.

"Well, I intend to have it all," Jessica said. "A career and the roles of wife and mother. It can be done, Brent, if the couple works together."

"Amen to that." Daniel smiled at Jessica. "We'll be the proof of that pudding, or however that old saying goes."

Brent nodded. "I agree with you, Jessica, but if the woman's career is all-consuming, there isn't room for anything else in her life."

Jessica shrugged. "I suppose you're right, but the same is to be said of the man. The couple has to be in balance, sharing, compromising, knowing when work ends for the day and family focus begins. Daniel might be called out on a case during what might be his usual time to read a story to Tessa, but the foundation is there, is in place, in the big picture of our life together."

"You're to be envied," Brent said. "Not everyone is as fortunate as you and Daniel, Jessica. For some of us, that balance, shall we say, is out of reach."

"Nonsense," Byron said. "No one is pointing a gun at your head, Brent, demanding that you put in the ridiculously long days that you do in the vineyards." He smiled at Alice. "You just haven't had a reason to cut back on your hours in the past. Things change."

"Yes, they do, don't they?" Brent said, a slight edge to his voice. "Sometimes when you least expect it, things change so drastically it knocks you for a loop. Maggie, would you pa.s.s me the pepper, please?"

Alice crossed her legs beneath the table and kicked Brent in the calf.

"Ow!" he said.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry," she said, ever so sweetly. t.i.t for tat. Brent had gotten in his little zinger, his dig at her, thinking she had no choice but to sit there and take it.

"Yeah, right," Brent said, under his breath.

"One should not push a MacAllister beyond the line in the sand." Jillian laughed softly.

"Where did that come from?" Forrest said. "Am I missing something here? Is this a woman thing I wouldn't understand even if you told me?"

"It certainly is," Jillian said, then looked directly at Brent. "Men can be terribly stubborn at times, get into a mind-set and refuse to budge, won't even entertain the idea that they might be wrong."

"Some men might do that," Brent said, meeting Jillian's gaze. "I, however, make certain that I have all my data, the facts as they stand, know that I'm right."

"I'm definitely missing something here," Forrest mumbled.

"My, my," Alice said, "this topic is getting very heavy, isn't it? King Chester, what...what kingly things did you do today?"

As King Chester began to reply, Alice tuned out and breathed a sigh of relief.

Her mother's protective instincts had risen to the fore, she thought, and she'd been ready to go toe-to-toe with Brent, not even knowing the full story of what had destroyed his relations.h.i.+p with her daughter. That was very loving of her mother, but it couldn't continue or the others would pick up on the fact that this was not just dinner chitchat.

Dear heaven, would this meal never end?

During the following days and nights preceding the wedding, the essence of that frantic plea became Alice's mantra.

Would the fancy, women-only tea in the castle garden never end?

Would the shopping trip into the quaint village in the center of Wils.h.i.+re never end?

Would the agonizing tour of the winery, which was conducted by Brent, never end?

Would the music played by the string quartet that came to the castle to entertain the guests while she was sitting next to Brent on a sofa never end?

Would the formal reception to welcome the mult.i.tude of dignitaries arriving from around the world for the wedding never end?

Would the long, lonely nights spent weeping into her pillow never, ever end?

On the morning of the wedding, which was scheduled, by royal tradition, to take place at high noon, Alice woke at dawn and mentally held tight to the knowledge that early tomorrow morning she could go home.

She had to survive the wedding and the long, lavish reception following it today, then this nightmare would be over. Returning to Ventura, she knew, was not going to erase the dark, gloomy cloud that seemed to continually hover over her. But at least she would be home and could, hopefully, get at least some reprieve from her misery as she concentrated on her work.

As sunlight began to fill the lovely bedroom, Alice turned her head on the pillow to look at the beautiful bridesmaid's dress that hung on a padded hanger on an antique clothes tree.

Her cousin Maggie, Alice mused, was going to marry her prince today. It was a fairy tale come true. Maggie would be a princess and someday a queen. She and Devon were so very much in love that an aura of suns.h.i.+ne seemed to encase them whenever they were together.

Maggie was Cinderella, and Snow White and all the others in the whimsical stories of handsome princes claiming their brides for all time.

"And me?" Alice said aloud.

She was still dumb Alice in Wonderland, falling through the hole and tumbling down, down, down, because she'd been stupid enough to follow some idiotic rabbit who couldn't even manage to get to an appointment on time.

There was no handsome prince waiting for her. There was no happy ending for her. There was no longer magnificent Brent Bardow in love with her.

Alice drew a wobbly breath.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Alice MacAllister, she thought firmly. Enough of this pity party trip she was on. But, oh, dear heaven, she was just so...so sad. What a tiny little word. Three letters. Sad. But it spoke volumes with its chilling truth that totally consumed her.

And she had no one to blame but herself.

"Just like the white rabbit," Alice whispered. "I was late, too late, for the most important date with destiny of my entire life."

Alice looked again at the bridesmaid's dress.

"Always the bridesmaid," she said, then sniffled. "But I'll never, ever be Brent's bride."