Royal Bachelor (10 page)

The only thing at stake was her heart.

She told herself that if she played her cards right she wouldn’t lose too badly. Maybe she would break her heart but perhaps it would make a good story and she’d be able to smile about it in the end. She’d be sad, but she’d recover. It would be fine. A short story rather than a novel.

And why did she feel some sort of urgency? Or perhaps that was just the irrational, insensible and already-half-in-love part of her mind being impatient.

“I’ll tell Marsha. I’ve accrued a lot of vacation days.”

Luke’s smile was blinding. “Where do you want to go?”

“Oh, we’re going away? I thought to make you finish the cleaning I’d started.”

He hesitated. “I wouldn’t mind. You just have to be patient. Very patient. I’m not good with cleaning.”

Alice laughed. It was like he’d answered what she’d been thinking seconds ago. “I have an idea.”

“I have to bring my... cousins.”

“You should. I’m bringing my own cavalry.”

*

Marsha approved her leave in an instant. The city was emptying anyway, no one really stuck around after New Year’s. Rebecca was cleared for three days as well. Clay was left to moan about not being able to tag along. His mother and the rest of his family already had plans.

This left Alice with only one thing left to do.

“Hi, Mama. Not much news. But I’m coming to Nantucket and I’ll have Rebecca and three men with me. No, Mama, it’s not an orgy.” Alice laughed. “I know. I love you too. Mama, Mama, I’m not getting married yet. Stop that.”

Her mother was a full-blooded Irish post-graduate education professor working steadily until Antonio Martelli swept her off her feet. She was semi-retired now with a loose schedule and whimsical office hours. While she was always prim and proper in person, she was quite insane on the phone. Not facing anyone while talking apparently loosened her inhibitions. Alice liked talking to her mother on the phone.

So that was it. It was done. Her parents had bought a small house in Nantucket for their tenth anniversary. This would be the first time Alice was bringing someone other than Rebecca. No wonder her crazy mother had thought she was getting married.

Please. She’d only met Luke a week ago.

Oh, gods, her mother would go insane over that one. Bringing home a man she barely knew.

*

Her mother did go insane, but on the extreme opposite pole of insanity Alice had expected.

Angela Finnegan-Martelli adored Luke. Of course, he was so charming in his European ways. Angela was probably already working out how his features would combine with Alice’s in her grandchildren.

They’d arrived in the afternoon, just as the sun was setting and turning the water red-gold where ice floes caught and reflected the dying light. Rebecca had lost her veil of cynicism and gazed wistfully at the view. The beach was always prettier in the winter, though the winds were harsh. She did make Jules carry her bag, though. Rebecca never rested in making men feel the superiority of women, particularly when she felt she was in danger of begging the guy to take her as a slave. Jules seemed to take it all in stride.

The Christmas crowds had long gone and all tourists had returned home weeks ago. The whole island was theirs and the beach was quiet and empty. Luke had paused as soon as he got off the ferry. Alice watched him look around. He was probably used to much better vistas and a far friendlier climate but he had a way of absorbing things as if they were new and he was utterly without jadedness. She liked that.

“You live here?” he’d asked.

“I usually come in the summer,” she admitted, feeling ashamed of her tourist-inclinations.

“It’s beautiful. And you carry that beauty inside you.”

Alice had smiled. Who couldn’t help smiling? “Keep talking like that. My mother will love you.”

And she did.

“Mama, tone it down,” Alice said, when Angela offered Luke more of the apple cobbler for the third time. “He’s not a prince or the last man on earth or anything.”

Luke and Jules coughed. The older Elmeran smirked.

“You know, I’ve been to Elmera,” said Alice’s dad. Alice looked fondly at him. It took Antonio longer to warm up to strangers, despite being Italian. He liked to watch people first, and see how they interacted with those dear to him. Luke and company had probably done right in not refusing anything Angela offered them. This was the first time Antonio spoke directly to them. He had only smiled and made general comments earlier. “Beautiful country. I’m not surprised you keep to yourselves. You’ve got everything there.”

“That’s right, sir. But I can’t say I regret going abroad for a change of scene,” said Luke, glancing at Alice briefly before shoveling more cobbler into his mouth. Angela beamed at him and at Alice. Alice rolled her eyes and hoped she wasn’t blushing. She was getting used to Luke’s uninhibited compliments and she kept telling herself it was part of his effusive personality, nothing at all special or just for her, but she couldn’t help being pleased all the same. So pleased she had a mild ache in her cheeks from smiling.

“Get to know her. Take her away somewhere. Show her who you are. And see who she is. That’s how you do it. Befriend her rather than court her. Don’t give her gifts, not material ones. Let gifts come up from your time together. Those are the most meaningful. Alfred Kilmartin Neville, I heard you snort. Lucian, ignore him. You like this girl in more ways than the usual ones, don’t you? Well, you won’t be pursuing her in the usual ways you pursued the others, then, will you?”

Luke heard his mother’s words as he padded across the hall and saw Alice through the glass doors leading to the porch. She was wearing an oversized coat bundling her against the cold with her knees tucked to her chest and a mug of hot cider clutched in her hands. She was splendid, her dark hair being softly teased by the breeze as it escaped in wisps from under her hat. Yes, he liked Alice in more ways than the usual ones. Oh, he
wanted
her, but it felt so much more than that, too. He felt that if he knew her like that, he’d only crave for more rather than have his craving sated.

She jumped, nearly spilling her drink, when he slid open the door and joined her.

“You’re up so early,” she said, blushing and subtly checking if she’d splashed herself. Luke grinned and kissed her on the forehead, feeling the warmth of blood beneath her skin and inhaling her scent.

“Ever since we went to Mass together, I’ve been an early riser.”

“And before that? What time do you get up?”

He ran his hand through her hair once and then leaned on the railing beside her, bumping her shoulder with his gently. “Around nine. I do have jobs, too, you know.”

“Do you see that tree? I used to have a swing there. But I was much too big for the tree. Or maybe it was just because I swung like an ape. I broke my arm when the branch snapped.”

Luke grimaced. “Which arm?”

She gestured with her left arm, hidden and secret beneath her coat.

“You could have gone blind. If you’d hit your head wrong or if your glasses had shattered—”

“Don’t say that!” She punched him and visibly shuddered. He stifled a laugh and rubbed the arm she’d mangled. She certainly didn’t hit like a girl.

“You do get on well, don’t you?” said a voice behind them. It was Mr. Martelli. Except for the height and some features softened or changed in color by the genes from Mrs. Martelli, Alice was completely his father’s daughter. Luke had felt the man’s protectiveness of his child, even if he wasn’t like other fathers who thought they could only show they cared if they threatened all men who approached their daughters. Mr. Martelli’s threat of retribution was much more subtle and all the more effective for not being voiced.

“Good morning, sir.”

“Come out to enjoy the cold, Daddy?”

Mr. Martelli put an arm around Alice and kissed her on the cheek and on the temple. “I missed you,
carissima
.” Luke was just about to leave them when Mr. Martelli said, “Did you offer our guest breakfast instead of punching him?”

“Oh, I don’t think I’ll have to eat until dinner,” Luke said. “You fed me so much last night. Not that I could help it. Everything was so delicious.”

Mr. Martelli nodded, smiling a little. “You haven’t tasted anything yet. Wait til later. If you’re not hungry, why don’t you kids take the boat?”

It was a simple speed boat, one that Antonio sometimes used to pick up Angela whenever she’d kayak too far away from the shore. Alice insisted on steering, Jules and Alfred insisted on coming, and when Rebecca heard that she tried to invite herself along.

“We can’t leave Alfred behind and we can’t fit that many comfortably,” Alice said. “We’ll just take Alfred and leave Jules with you, okay Rebecca?”

The real Alfred gave Luke a grin and moved as if to follow him and Alice to the boat. He loved lording his power over the prince whenever he had to do ‘babysitting’, as he called it.

“Where are you going?” Rebecca asked, “Jules! You’re supposed to stay here with me.” She turned to the real Jules. “Go on. I hope you know how to swim, she’s a maniac with the motor.”

The three of them bundled up tightly against the wind and the real Jules was in charge of dispensing hot mugs of cocoa, cider and tea throughout the trip.

“I feel like a nanny,” he grumbled.

Alice started up the motor with a whoop and steered the boat free of the shore before increasing the speed. They had moved beyond the ice floes and out into the open space of the water. Harsh, biting wind whipped at their faces but Alice laughed into it, alive and bright. She was wearing her prescription sunglasses, double protection against the January winds.

Luke watched her in amazement. She was free and wild, skipping the boat along little waves and executing sharp turns that brought Elmeran epithets from the normally staid Jules.

“You’re crazy!” Luke laughed.

“I’m safe, don’t worry about it!” she called back. Hell, of course she was safe. What was he doing? Why hadn’t he told her yet? He hoped he wouldn’t regret his stupidity.

*

Angela told them all that she hated beer and she wasn’t particularly fond of spirits in general. Too many Irish men were too fond of drink, including Angela’s father and grandfather.

“You can imagine my horror when I found out Antonio’s family owns vineyards.” She and her husband shared a secret smile. She served them hot mulled cider instead, which had already turned on the side of alcoholic. Luke was pleasantly surprised when Antonio sent him a wink and a grin after tasting the cider. Angela had by then switched to tea and so their secret was safe. Even Jules was in on it; calmly telling Angela that the cider was delicious and could he please have more.

But the deception ended because it turned out that Antonio was a cheap drunk. For an Italian, that was a tragedy. Rebecca gasped in comic horror when Antonio accidentally knocked over one gravy boat and sent the contents to Angela’s lap. She was more upset that the gravy was wasted than by the accident. But when Antonio looked so bewildered at how exactly he’d done what he did that they all cracked up and their game was shot.

Angela took her husband upstairs and the rest of them cleared up.

“Let’s go for a walk through town,” said Rebecca. “I want to find a nice pie shop.”

Alice shook her head. “I don’t go to town, you know that.”

“Can you believe she hasn’t ever been to town? Every summer we went here, she stayed here and read on the beach or raced around in her little dinghy. Well, Jules, you come with me. If Alice’s staying, Luke’s staying, so it will be you and me, partner.”

The real Jules, who had probably had his fair share of the turned cider, said, “I beg your pardon?”

Alfred chuckled. “I’ll be right with you as soon as I tuck my dear uncle into bed.”

They argued softly on the way upstairs. But Jules apparently let the matter lie. Alfred came down, he and Rebecca left, and Luke and Alice were alone.

She left the table and settled down by the fire. He followed, bringing two glasses of wine.

They arranged themselves so that Alice sat between his legs, leaning back into his chest as though he were a recliner. With his nose in Alice’s hair, Luke didn’t mind at all.

“When my grandfather’s here—Dad’s dad—he always tries to cure my dad’s
afflizione
,” Alice said, sipping the earthy red wine. “Imagine, my dad’s going to inherit vineyards and if he ever finishes a bottle of wine, he’ll sleep for two days.”

“And you? Are you a lightweight too? Isn’t that what they call it?”

“No, I’m not. My grandfather made me drink wine even before I could walk. My mother doesn’t know that, she thinks alcohol is the seed of anger, so don’t let it slip. They only have wine for the guests.”

Luke laughed. “I like your parents.”

“They like you, too.” She companionably leaned onto his arm. “What are your parents like?”

“You and my mother will get on famously. My father—I don’t know my father well. And now he’s ill.”