The Bridal Bargain (15 page)

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself enough to consider. Six months. Any cracks in their relationship should be showing by then. If it was still the same, still as wonderful as it had been this past month... “Yes,” she decided. “I’d feel more sure of everything being right for us if it lasted six months.”

“Okay. On that basis, will you make a bargain with me?”

“What bargain?”

“You wear my ring, which you can give back at any time in the next five months if you don’t feel right about us. At the end of that five months, if you’re still wearing my ring, you will turn up as my bride at a wedding which I will arrange.”

“You...arrange?” Sheer astonishment glazed her mind.

“I’ll do all the planning, make all the arrangements. I’ll buy what has to be bought, hire what has to be hired, book what has to be booked. All you’ll need do is to turn up at the church at the specified time in the wedding dress which I’ll supply. Five months from now.”

She stared at him in amazement. “You’d take on all that...to marry me?”

He nodded, his eyes serious, absolute commitment written on his face. “I would like very much for us to have a wedding to remember, one we can look back on as a wonderful celebration of our marriage.”

Tears swam into her eyes. He was making it sound so real. And didn’t it prove he loved her, being prepared to arrange a wedding himself? He wasn’t even considering there was a risk in putting so much of himself on the line. Was he so sure they were right together?

“I want to give you that, Hannah,” he said softly. “But I do need something from you.”

Need…
he answered so many of her needs. The urge to give was instant and strong. She nodded for him to go on, too choked up to speak.

“Give me your word...there’ll be no running away at the last minute.”

She swallowed hard and fervently replied, “I wouldn’t do that to you, Tony.” Never would she deal out such painful humiliation...jilting him at the altar.

“Then...do we have a bargain?”

A shiver ran through her as she recalled Megan’s words.
When the King family makes a commitment, it’s rock-solid, providing you keep your side of the bargain.
Her eyes searched his as she asked, “Are you really sure about this, Tony?”

There was not so much as a flicker of uncertainty. “I’m sure,” he said with a blaze of conviction that poured warmth into the cold places in her soul.

It felt good.

It was fair.

More than fair.

“Then yes. We have a bargain.”

Isabella Valeri King
sat by the fountain in the loggia, waiting for Antonio to fly in from Innisfail. It was Friday, and on Sunday there would be a family luncheon here at the castle to celebrate his engagement to Hannah O’Neill, but he wanted this private meeting with her first.

His request had not surprised her. All was not as it should be. Isabella had reflected on the events of last weekend many times—the shock announcement on Saturday evening that the O’Neill family had arrived in Port Douglas—all twenty-four members—and he was going to marry Hannah. She was wearing his ring. No time to talk then. They were to dine with the O’Neill family and could he bring them all up to the castle for afternoon tea on Sunday?

Isabella had gone to bed that night filled with joy. Choosing Hannah O’Neill as the chef for
Duchess
had been the right move. Antonio had fallen in love with her—such a suitable young woman for him—and she would soon have a second grandson married.

She had enjoyed meeting the very large O’Neill family on Sunday—all of them so clever and talented—good stock—but she had felt uneasy at the way Antonio had been very protective of Hannah in front of them, fending off any questions directed at her about their future, answering them himself.

It was charmingly done. Isabella doubted the O’Neills had found anything amiss. When Antonio
performed,
he gave out so much dynamic energy, people didn’t really notice anybody else and he had been in dazzling form that afternoon. No one seemed to notice that Hannah was being passive, letting him take control. No one except Isabella.

It didn’t feel right to her. At the job interview, and on two subsequent meetings with her, Hannah had shown herself to be very active and enterprising, not at all backward in taking the initiative, confident in expressing herself—a delightful personality. Yet all that had been subdued on Sunday afternoon. Maybe she had wanted Antonio to shine in front of her family, but surely not as much as he had, even handling all the questions about wedding plans.

Tony had declared they would be married in Port Douglas—a decisive announcement with no input from Hannah, no excuse to her family why she did not choose to marry in Sydney from her parental home, which was the bride’s prerogative. Oddly enough none of the O’Neills had protested this although Hannah’s mother had looked sadly wistful for several moments before putting a cheerful face over her private feelings.

Antonio had gone on to state that the wedding ceremony would be held in the local church,
St. Mary’s by the sea,
and the reception would be here at the castle. Then he had asked Isabella to show the older family members the ballroom while he and Hannah took the younger children up to the tower. Which was, perhaps, a reasonable arrangement, but why wouldn’t Hannah want to check out the ballroom personally with her mother? This was not normal behaviour from a happy bride-to-be.

Two years of running away
...that was what Antonio had said the night he had taken Hannah to Nautilis, intent on confronting the couple who had distressed her. Was she still
running away?
What did this mean in the context of consenting to marry Antonio?

The sound of the helicopter coming in broke into her disturbing thoughts.

Soon she would know the truth.

As much as she wanted Antonio married, it was so important to get it right. She remembered sitting here with Elizabeth whose three sons—the Kings of the Kimberley—had all made good marriages. Elizabeth had understood her need for the family to go on, building on what had been built. She had also understood it couldn’t be done without the right women. Partners for life. Absolute commitment. No running away.

I
have lived for eighty years,
Isabella thought,
years that have brought many joys and many sorrows.
She wanted to see her grandsons settled in good marriages with families of their own before she died...the last achievement that would make sense of all the rest. But time was getting shorter and shorter. It went so fast now. Even so, it would be bad if Antonio rushed into a marriage that was wrong. Such a mistake would be very costly.

“Nonna...” He emerged from the castle foyer, closing one of the big entrance doors behind him. “...I thought you’d be inside.”

“I like sitting here, Antonio. I find it...harmonious.”

It was eminently clear all was not harmonious in his world. He brought tension with him like an ill wind, as well as the battle energy that signalled a problem he was determined on facing and beating.

“I told Rosita not to bring us anything. I hope you don’t mind,” he said as he took the chair at the opposite end of the table to hers.

“You want to talk about Hannah without interruption,” she surmised, her eyes informing him she was well aware of the sensitivity of this conversation. “I suspect you have moved too fast for her, Antonio.”

A wry little smile acknowledged her perception. “One has to move fast to catch a butterfly, Nonna.”

A butterfly? The fanciful allusion worried Isabella. A beautiful creature, yes, but... “It is wrong to pin one down,” she pointed out, thinking such a fluttery characteristic was not what she had envisaged in a wife for Antonio.

“Hannah wants to fly with me. It’s a matter of proving I won’t stray from her side.”

“You...stray?” Isabella shook her head, frowning over such a doubt. Hannah could not know him well enough. Once Antonio made up his mind, nothing could shift him from his course. “She needs more time with you.”

“I’ve bought enough time,” he claimed With confidence. “Hannah will wear my ring as long as it keeps feeling right. I’ve made a bargain with her and I need your help to carry it through, Nonna.”

“Then you had best explain it to me.”

He gave her the knowledge she was lacking, painting the backdrop to the current situation with all the shades she’d been missing. Hannah’s previous high-pressure career as a top-line events organiser did not really surprise her. A useful talent to have in any walk of life, Isabella thought.

The story of her relationships with Flynn and Jodie Lovett was illuminating. That betrayal and the humiliation in front of her family explained much. It was relatively easy to piece together the problem. Hannah had suffered a massive loss of trust, not only in her own judgement of people, but also in planning for any future at all.

It took time to build trust, time to be convinced it would never be abused. Antonio had rushed in, knowing what his word was worth and expecting, as usual, to carry all before him, only to discover that winning his own way was not so simple.

Still, the bridal bargain he had made with Hannah was clever, possibly a masterstroke, though it laid him open to public humiliation should she cancel the wedding. He was taking all the risks, leaving Hannah free to walk away without any cost at all from their relationship.

The gift of love...

Did Hannah recognise it for what it was?

“So you see, Nonna, I need your help. You know how to go about planning a wedding. If you’ll tell me what I have to do and when to do it...”

“Are you absolutely certain it will be right for both of you in the end, Antonio?” she asked, not wanting to see him hurt.

“Nonna, I have never felt anything more right,” he answered with quiet gravity. “In my heart, I know Hannah loves me. And in her heart, she knows I love her. She is simply afraid to believe it.”

Was it true?

Or was it blind faith?

Five months...

Isabella gathered herself and stood up, knowing she had to trust Antonio’s instincts. “Come. We will go to the library so I can look up available dates for a wedding in my work diary. We must set a day. All planning begins with that.”

Antonio heaved a huge sigh of relief as he rose from his chair. A few quick steps and he was hugging her in an emotional overflow of gratitude. “Thank you. I want the very best for Hannah, Nonna. It has to be the best.”

“The choices must be yours, Antonio. I will put them to you. I will see that your decisions are carried out. But this wedding must be your gift to Hannah, not mine. You do understand this?”

“Yes.” He drew back to meet the challenge in her eyes with the fire in his soul. “I took the responsibility. I’ll see it through. When Hannah walks down the aisle as my bride, Nonna, you’ll see that it’s right. She needs me to do this. It’s the proof of my love for her.”

A quest...that was what it was, and Hannah needed him to fulfil it.

Isabella smiled.

Getting his teeth into a quest was so Antonio. Did Hannah know instinctively it would bind him to her more effectively than anything else? She had agreed to the bargain. That alone had to mean she valued this relationship very highly. The butterfly might not yet be caught but it seemed she wanted to be caught. And to Antonio, failure was inconceivable.

Isabella hoped she would see Hannah O’Neill walk down the aisle to him as his bride. If she did...then it would be right.

They
were all in the church...waiting. At least, all those who could fit into the small white church—the two families and the people closest to them—were jammed in...waiting.

The old wooden building, constructed in the traditional Queenslander style with its studs exposed on the outside, weatherboard cladding on the inside, was virtually a historic landmark in Port Douglas, positioned near the shoreline of Anzac Park, overlooking Dickenson Inlet.
St. Mary’s by the sea
did not hold a big congregation. But outside, the whole park was filled with people...waiting.

Alex checked his watch.

Beside him, Matt muttered, “She’s running late.”

Tony’s nerves tightened another notch.

“Only five minutes,” Alex murmured.

But Hannah was always, always punctual. It must be someone else’s fault, Tony fiercely reasoned. She wouldn’t leave him standing here today. She’d promised. No running away at the last minute. His ring had still been on her finger yesterday. There was no need to worry.

He stared out the big picture window at the back of the church. It was a brilliant sunny afternoon yet there were no boats out on the inlet. No boats and no business being done in Port Douglas. Everything had stopped for
the wedding.

It was like a festival day out there in the park. Marquees had been set up to serve food and drinks. Local bands were entertaining the crowd. An Aboriginal dance troupe had come down from Kuranda, adding their primitive colour to the celebratory atmosphere. People had flocked here from up and down the whole far north to witness the occasion. Even the ferals who shunned all society had left their shelters in the hills and come into town today.

Tony King was getting married.

If his bride turned up.

Did Hannah realise this was not like a city wedding where only those directly involved in it would be affected if it was cancelled? This was a community event and the King family always delivered what it promised. It wasn’t just his pride at stake here. Almost a hundred years of tradition was riding on his judgement that Hannah loved him enough to be his bride.

His heart said she did.

His mind said she had to or there was no sense to what he felt with her.

His soul yearned for her to join him.

“Listen!” Alex nudged him, a huge grin breaking across his face. “She’s on her way.”

Cheers rising from the crowd outside. It had to mean they could see the horse-drawn buggies coming down Wharf Street from the Coral King Apartments where the O’Neill family had been housed for the wedding.

His grandmother and her great-grandson, Marco, would be in the first one, having come from the castle to head the procession. Alex’s four-year-old son was to carry in the grey-velvet cushion on which lay the wedding rings. No doubt he was jiggling with excitement at being part of this grand occasion.

Alex’s lovely wife, Gina, and Hannah’s sister, Trish, would be riding in the second, wearing the emerald-green gowns he’d chosen for them.

Behind them would be Hannah with her father. Tony hoped she felt his love for her in everything she wore today—the bride of his choice. The wedding gown was relatively simple, a slim silky ankle-length dress which would hug her lovely curves, its low square-cut neckline and shoulder straps beaded with white pearls. Most meaningful of all to him was the headdress that would hold her veil.

Picard pearls—the best in the world from Broome at the coastal edge of the Kimberly. He’d contacted Jared King whom he’d met at Alex’s wedding. The Kings of the Kimberly were descended from the same paternal line as his grandfather, and Jared ran the Picard Pearl Company.

His wife, Christabel, had requested photographs of Hannah and had created a special design for her from the ideas Tony had wanted expressed. It was his special gift to his bride on their wedding day. He hoped she loved it...was wearing it with love for him. She might not understand what it symbolised but he would tell her tonight—tonight when he made love to
his wife.

Outside the noise of cheering and clapping increased. The jazz band broke into a joyous rendition of “When The Saints Come Marching In.” The crowd started singing.

“What’s the betting the band is leading the procession in?” Matt remarked, happy now that activity was in the air.

Everyone in the church started buzzing with anticipation. The waiting was almost over. Peter Owen handed his god-daughter, Alex’s and Gina’s new baby girl, to Rosita and moved to sit at the electronic keyboard, ready to play. His white grand piano could not fit into this church, but it was waiting for him in the ballroom at the castle. For
this
wedding, he would do anything asked of him. Gina was to sing and he always accompanied Gina when she sang, joining in the duets with her.

The band’s jazz playing stopped just outside the church. The crowd hushed. Tony took a deep breath to relax himself. In his mind’s eye he could see the drivers of the buggies helping their passengers step down. A little shiver ran down his spine as the deep haunting throb of didgeridoos began.

The Aborigines who’d gathered were calling up the spirits of the dreamtime to wish this union well. It brought an eerie sense of ancient rites to this moment, reminding Tony that he belonged to this land which had proved fruitful for four generations of his family. The nature of it had to be respected and one had to work in harmony with it. That was the way of everything and the same had to be applied to marriage. Respect, harmony...

Silence.

Footsteps in the vestibule.

Alex and Matt, half turning to look.

Tony took another deep breath and followed suit. His grandmother was entering the church, walking up to the front pew. She was smiling at him. It was a smile that promised all was well.

Behind her he could see Marco and Gina and Trish lined up to make their entrance, but not Hannah as yet. No amount of sensible willpower could get rid of the butterflies in Tony’s stomach. The moment his grandmother reached her place, Peter Owen started playing, the electronic keyboard producing quite a wonderful rendition of Mendelssohn’s wedding march. There were speakers outside the church transmitting the ceremony to all who wanted to listen and the music seemed to swirl everywhere.

Marco started up the aisle, carefully carrying his cushion and grinning delightedly at his father who stood beside Tony, undoubtedly encouraging his little son. Gina came next. Then Trish. Tony forgot about breathing altogether when finally Hannah and her father moved into position to start their procession towards him.

His heart stopped.

She was here... Hannah...his bride...so radiantly beautiful...smiling at him...her green eyes sparkling... and holding the long white bridal veil was the plait of pearls, looping over the top of her head, each end fastened by exquisite gold and pearl butterflies, below them the long unplaited strands of pearls falling down beside her ears, mingling with the wavy tresses of her hair.

Two butterflies—one for him, one for her, joined by a bond that would intertwine them for the rest of their lives—and that was how it would be because she was here, willing to marry him, wanting to share the future with him, and she walked towards him, not one shadow of doubt dimming the happiness that shone from her and beamed straight into his heart, kick-starting it into a thunderous beat, a joyous drumming of love for this woman—
his
woman.

He held out his hand to her.

She took it.

The bargain was complete.

This was the time for them.

The link was unbreakable.