The Baby Bet: The Royal MacAllister Part 14

In the groom's room in the church, Devon looked at his watch, stared into s.p.a.ce, then glanced at his watch again as he realized he hadn't registered the time in his jumbled mind.

"Fifteen minutes," he said. "Why did they stick us in this room so soon?"

Brent leaned one shoulder against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. "So you could have your nervous breakdown and get over it, cousin," he said. "Cripes, Devon, calm down. You're going to feel like the jerk of the century if you pa.s.s out cold on your face at the altar. Get a grip, man."

"Grip," Devon said, nodding jerkily. "I'm getting it. The grip. Here I am. Getting a grip. Brent, I'm about to be married."

Brent nodded slowly. "That's the plan." He paused and frowned. "This isn't a case of cold feet I'm witnessing here, is it?"

"How can you even suggest such a thing?" Devon said, none too quietly. "This is the happiest day of my life. I'm marrying my Maggie. My beautiful, sweet, wonderful princess, the woman of my dreams. I just wish there weren't five hundred people out there waiting for me to mess up what I'm supposed to say, when it's my turn to say what I'm supposed to say, when I say what I'm supposed to... Ah, h.e.l.l, I'm losing it."

"Big time," Brent said, shaking his head. "Look, try this. Tell yourself there is no one in that church except you and Maggie. Just the two of you. Focus on Maggie, on how much you love her, on the fantastic future you're going to have together. She'll be your wife, Devon, your soul mate and partner for life and..."

An achy sensation gripped Brent's throat and he stopped speaking.

Ah, Alice, he thought. Everything he was saying should be describing what they would share, what they would have together.

He loved her. He despised her.

He couldn't bear the thought of her leaving Wils.h.i.+re tomorrow. He never wanted to see her again.

She was everything he had ever hoped to find in a woman, a wife. She was nothing close to being who he'd believed her to be.

"Hey, Brent?" Devon said. "What's wrong? You suddenly look like you lost your best friend."

"Got it in one, cousin," Brent said. "Forget it. I'm fine. You're the one who is coming unglued. Here. We're supposed to put these dorky boutonniere things in our lapels. Somebody nuts thought up all this junk. Why do guys need a d.i.n.ky flower on their coat so they can get married?" He opened a white florist box that was sitting on a small table.

"Oops."

"Oops?" Devon said. "Don't say 'oops' when I'm hanging on by a thread here." He crossed the room and looked in the box. "That's a corsage, Brent. You know, the mother-of-the-bride thing, or something. There should be two boutonnieres in that box and... oh, this is just great. Dandy. Perfect. I can't get married to my Maggie because some idiot lost my boutonniere."

"Chill," Brent said, placing his hands on Devon's shoulders. "The boxes got switched, that's all. I'll go around to the other side through the back hallway and I betcha a buck the women are in the bride's room, or whatever the h.e.l.l you call it, ready to trade flowers. Okay? Say 'okay, Brent."'

"Okay, Brent," Devon said.

"Good boy," Brent said, patting Devon on the cheek. "I'll be back in a flash. Try not to have a complete mental collapse while I'm gone."

"Okay, Brent."

"Hopeless," Brent said, then s.n.a.t.c.hed up the box and left the room.

Brent strode along the narrow, dimly lit corridor, then stopped suddenly in his tracks, his heart thundering so wildly it caused an actual physical pain in his chest.

There she was, he thought hazily. Alice. She was coming toward him, a vision of loveliness in a beautiful blue dress. There she was, walking down the aisle to take her place at his side, to repeat the sacred vows with him that would unite them in marriage. There she was. His bride. His Alice of wonder. And he loved her so d.a.m.n much.

Look at us, Brent thought. As the decades went by and their love grew even deeper and richer, they would gaze into each other's eyes and say the words... look at us, after all these years together, look at you, still pretty as a picture, look at me, still crazy over you.

Oh, G.o.d, Alice.

She stopped several feet away from him.

"Brent," Alice said, her voice trembling, "the flowers, this box has the boutonnieres that you and Devon... Do you have a corsage in that box you're holding?"

Do you, Brent, take this woman to be your wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, Brent's mind hummed from a faraway place.

"I do," he said, emotion ringing in his voice.

To love and to cherish, Alice thought hazily, in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, forever, forever, forever...

Oh, Brent.

"I do," Alice whispered.

They walked slowly forward, closing the distance between them, looking deep into each other's eyes, hearts racing, breaths catching, unshed tears causing eyes to sting.

It was magic, their magic, returned to them, encasing them in a mist of splendor and joy and love so intense it was a nearly palpable ent.i.ty weaving around and through them, chasing away the chill with a warmth that touched their hearts and souls.

"Brent!" Devon called in the distance. "Come on. It's time. It's time."

Brent jerked and dropped the box he was holding. He leaned down, s.n.a.t.c.hed it from the floor and shoved it at Alice, forcing her to accept it.

"Brent?" she said, searching his face as she drew a wobbly breath.

"No," he said, a rough edge to his voice as he took the other box from her hand. "Don't say anything to me, Alice. Not anything...except...goodbye."

The wedding ceremony was breathtaking.

Sunlight streamed through the stained-gla.s.s windows of the enormous church, creating a wondrous rainbow of colors to cascade over the bride and groom. They spoke their vows with voices steady and sure as they pledged their love to each other for eternity. Matching rings were slipped onto fingers as visible signs of what was in their hearts, minds and souls.

As Maggie and Devon turned to be introduced as husband and wife to the mult.i.tude of witnesses, tears flowed freely from those who saw the glorious radiance of their love for each other.

Tears s.h.i.+mmered, too, in the eyes of Alice and Brent, but theirs were born of heartache for what would never be for them.

Chapter Twelve.

As dawn crept quietly above the horizon the next morning with muted colors that grew more vibrant as they began to fill the sky, Alice stood hidden in the trees by Brent's cottage.

She'd been there an hour already, having arrived in the dark, and was chilled through, the slacks and lightweight sweater she'd chosen to wear during the flight home not warm enough for the crisp night air.

During the seemingly endless hours of the night, she'd decided that this was what she wanted, needed to do. It would probably mean nothing to Brent, but it was very, very important to her.

Giving up on attempting to sleep, she'd showered, dressed, then packed her suitcases. Feeling like a sneak thief, she'd crept down the stairs and out the front doors of the castle.

With only the stars to light the path, she made her way to Brent's cottage without a wrong turn, as though she had been there a hundred times, instead of only once.

It was as though, she thought, her heart was leading the way to the man she loved beyond measure.

A s.h.i.+ver coursed through Alice as a breeze rustled the leaves on the trees, then her breath caught as she saw the glow of light suddenly appear behind the curtains of the cottage. Having no idea what time he usually started his day, she had come early so she'd be certain that Brent had left the cottage and she could complete her mission.

Fifteen minutes later, the door to the cottage opened and Alice almost forgot to breathe as Brent stepped outside, clad only in faded jeans riding low on his hips.

Even from where she stood hidden in the trees, she could see that his hair was damp from a morning shower, and for a moment she was convinced she could actually smell his wonderful aroma of soap and fresh air. He was sipping from a mug, and he scanned the sky to gauge the weather for the day.

Alice drank in the sight of Brent, memorizing every detail of him, etching each indelibly in her mind. Tears stung the back of her eyes and she blinked them away, refusing to cry, wondering when she would have no more tears left.

Brent tossed the last of the coffee on the ground, then his shoulders slumped and he dropped his chin to his bare chest that rose, then fell from a deep sigh.

Oh, G.o.d, Alice thought, pressing the trembling fingertips of one hand to her lips, Brent looked so defeated, so exhausted. So very, very sad. She had done this to him, and the weight of her guilt was crus.h.i.+ng.

"I'm so sorry, my love," she whispered, unable to stop the tears that spilled onto her cheeks.

Brent went back into the cottage and shut the door, emerging ten minutes later fully dressed. He strode away and disappeared in the opposite direction from where Alice was standing.

She waited another twenty minutes to be absolutely certain that Brent wouldn't return, then moved from her hiding place and ran to the cottage. She hesitated, then with a firm resolve, opened the door and entered the little house.

A short time later when Alice stepped into the entryway of the castle, she mentally moaned when she saw her family coming down the stairs.

Great timing, she thought dryly. She knew that an early breakfast had been scheduled so they could make their flight, but had hoped she'd be back in her room before the others emerged from theirs and it would appear as though she had followed the same plan as the group. Oh, well, bring on the bare lightbulb. She was about to be grilled by the pros regarding what she had been up to.

"Good morning, sweetheart," Jillian said as she crossed the entryway.

"Hi," Alice said weakly. "I..."

"I'm ready for some of those spicy little sausages," Forrest said. "I wonder if we could get the recipe for those, Jillian." He glanced at Alice. "Coming, kiddo? The next meal we'll have will be airplane food, so let's fill up while we're here."

"I..." Alice said, raising one finger in the air.

Jessica winked at her sister as she and Daniel went past Alice, then Emily beamed at her. The others strolled by, and Alice was the recipient of knowing smiles and smothered laughter.

Whatever, Alice thought, mentally throwing up her hands as she followed the family. They all believed, apparently, that she'd had a private, romantic farewell with Brent and they were going to leave it at that, no doubt feeling very sophisticated with their acceptance of her torrid affair with Brent Bardow.

My heart is smashed to smithereens, people, Alice yelled in her mind. I'm a walking, talking, crying jag.

Alice sniffled and six members of her family looked at her questioningly.

"Allergies," she mumbled.

"Mmm," Jillian said.

Alice poked at her food as everyone ate and chatted about the beautiful wedding of the day before. Maggie and Devon were off on a two-week honeymoon to a destination they had refused to reveal, and Forrest started taking bets on where they had gone.

Finally giving up any attempt to choke down a bite, Alice pushed her plate away and sipped her coffee. Everyone looked up as a man entered the dining room, handed a note to King Chester, then hurried away. The king read the message, then nodded.

"This is from Brent," he said. "He has things to take care of at the vineyard this morning that need his personal attention and won't be able to see you off at the plane. He wishes you all a good journey."

A chill swept through Alice and she set her cup back in the saucer with a shaking hand.

Brent couldn't even bear to see her one last time, she thought miserably. She'd not only destroyed his love for her, she'd pushed him all the way to actually hating the very sight of her. So many hopes and dreams, so very many, were gone...forever.

Charlane and Byron had come to the castle for the farewell breakfast, and Byron shook his head when he heard the message his son had sent.

"Brent works too hard," Byron said. "We discussed that the other evening at dinner, remember? The fact that some people are too focused on their work, their careers. I thought he might be listening to me, but apparently he wasn't."

"I...I don't believe he was referring to himself," Alice said quietly. "He...never mind. It's not important. Now." She cringed as she glanced around the table and saw that everyone was looking at her. "What I mean is...um...well, I..."

"What you're saying," Jillian said, "is that it often takes time for change. Right, dear?"

"Right," Alice said quickly.

"Oh," Byron said, nodding. "Well, that makes sense, I guess. There's hope for that boy yet. He'll get his priorities straight."

"Hear, hear," Charlane said, smiling at Alice.

Brent already had his priorities straight, Alice thought. His first order of business was to erase her from his mind and his heart just as quickly as he possibly could.

Late that night Brent entered his cottage, stumbling slightly from total exhaustion. He'd pushed his body to the maximum and beyond the entire day with the hope that he would be so tired he would finally be able to stop thinking and just sleep, blank his mind and sleep.

He snapped on the small lamp by the bed as he tugged his filthy s.h.i.+rt free of his jeans, unb.u.t.toned it and dropped it to the floor. As he unsnapped his grimy jeans, his attention was caught by a tissue-wrapped package propped against one of the pillows on the bed.

Sinking onto the edge of the bed, he frowned as he picked up the parcel, then tore away the paper, his eyes widening as what was inside was revealed.

"The pewter frame," he said aloud. "The one that Alice's grandfather gave her as her secret present. Why did she give something this special to me now?"

He sighed in confusion, then directed his attention to the painting within the frame, his breath catching as he stared at the portrait of Alice. His heart began to beat in a wild tempo and a roaring noise echoed in his ears as he drank in the sight of Alice's face, her eyes, the soft smile on her lips.

His hold on the frame tightened as his gaze stayed riveted on the self-portrait Alice had painted.

This woman, his thoughts racing, is in love. Deeply, intensely in love, and she had the glow of knowing she was loved in return. It was all there for him to see, in this portrait, in this picture that Alice had painted of herself and had now given to him.

This was the truth. This was real. This was Alice in Wonderland, whom he had come to love beyond measure. This was his future.

"Dear G.o.d," he whispered hoa.r.s.ely, "what have I done? Oh, my beloved Alice, what have I done to us?"

Alice entered the loft with her agent close on her heels. Alice sank onto the sofa with a weary sigh, leaned her head on the top and closed her eyes.

"That's it. That's all," Alice said. "I'm done. I've smiled so much in the three weeks since I've been back that my face is frozen in phony form."

Delores laughed and sat down in an easy chair opposite the sofa.

"You did beautifully today," she said. "The TV cameras love you, Alice. I have videos of all the other talk shows you've done up and down the coast and you're a natural in front of the cameras."

"The cameras love me?" Alice said, not moving or opening her eyes. "Hooray for the cameras. What I want is for people to love my work, Delores. That's what is important."