The rain fell heavily and was loud on the umbrella she held over her head as she leaned down to help steady the boat for the bedraggled passengers who clambered to their feet, clutching plastic garment bags and suitcases, looking like refugees instead of the well-off socialites Bel knew they were. Tristan’s parents had arrived in the first load and had been given a room at Glentoberon. This lot were his brothers and their wives. They were expecting two moreboats with the celebrant, photographer and caterers any minute. How Gisele was making all this happen, God only knew, but Bel suspected the woman’s talent for organisation would rival the most operationally experienced military quartermaster’s.
‘They’re getting their money’s worth out of you,’ a familiar voice called. Bel looked up to find Dean, dressed in a bright orange rain jacket with ‘SES’ printed on the front, climbing out of the boat.
‘Sorry?’ she asked, tilting her head slightly.
‘Bridesmaidandchauffeur? I would have thought you’d be busy getting your hair done or something. Where are all the men?’
‘You think only men can come out in the rain and pick up passengers?’ she quipped.
‘Nope, just thought maybe there’d be enough of them hanging round and they might make themselves useful.’
‘It’s all hands on deck. Everyone else has been enlisted into relocating the reception.’
‘I see. Well, I guess that’s pretty important,’ he said lightly, turning away to steady the boat.
‘How’s it in town?’
‘Town’s okay, only a few houses on the outskirts have minor flooding so far, but we’re cut off. The roads in and out are going to be closed for a few days, depending on how much more rain we get.’ He lifted a suitcase out and placed it on the bitumen. ‘Oi!’ he called as the last man got out ofthe boat and started hurrying towards the four-wheel drive. Dean nodded at the suitcase. ‘No baggage porters here, mate.’
The man trudged back, mumbling an apology before picking up the case and jogging towards the vehicle again.
‘They’re a different breed, all right,’ Dean muttered.
‘Well, I better get them back to dry land,’ Bel said, lifting her hand in farewell as he got back into the boat. She watched him wipe a hand across his face beneath the hood of the raincoat. It always humbled her how SES members volunteered their time and lives to help people, going out in the kind of weather most others took refuge from. It was heroic.
She tried not to think about Tate and the others back at Glentoberon, sitting around drinking hot chocolate.That’s not fair. They were visitors. It wasn’t as though they could put their hands up to do SES work. That involved training. She felt a twinge of something like disappointment then chastised herself.Not everyone can be a hero.
‘Be careful out there,’ she said. Something shifted on his face, a fleeting expression that she wasn’t even sure how to describe. He looked … almost serious? Or taken aback? And then it was gone.
‘Hope the wedding goes well. Stay dry.’
Back at the house, it was surprisingly calm, considering all the upheaval. Aunt Lois was in her element as Lady of the Manor, fussing about and making sure everyone was comfortable. There was plenty of food and drink flowing, and spirits seemed to be holding up remarkably well … although thatcould have something to do with the fact there wasa lotof drink flowing.
When Gisele was satisfied she had everything mostly under control, Larkin and the bridesmaids were sent inside to get ready. Bel reluctantly traipsed up the staircase to endure make-up and hair.
Finally it was time to put on her gown. The soft fabric slid over her body and flowed like a dusty pink waterfall. Her long hair had been braided to one side and pinned in a messy low bun, with a few loosened tendrils to help soften the look. As Bel stared at her reflection, she found herself wondering. She was no longer the plain-Jane girl-next-door who worked at Dwyers’. She wasn’t sure she ever would be again, even when she had to give up the glam squad and the Adonis-like lover. Who was this glamorous woman staring back at her, really?
With one final glance in the mirror, Bel took a deep breath and mentally prepared herself to head back into the fray.
On a normal wedding day, bridesmaid duties would involve the odd pep talk and bucketloads of reassurance. This bridesmaid gig, however, demanded a whole new level of dedication. The fact that it involved a natural disaster, a last-minute change of venue and around seventy-five per cent of the guest list being unable to attend made it well and truly above Bel’s pay grade. This kind of thing should have come with a handbook, but it didn’t, so everyone was fumbling their way through it as best they could.
After a few glasses of champagne, they’d finally managed to calm Larkin down enough to get her dressed and ready for photos. Larkin wasn’t the first bride to have her wedding day sabotaged by rain and she certainly wouldn’t be the last. At least she had a team of people working nonstop to ensure it would still be a dream wedding day.
As she and the other bridesmaids walked down the grand staircase and through a gorgeous archway of fresh flowers, Bel couldn’t help but catch her breath at how beautifully everything had been transformed. Fairy lights were draped along the wrought-iron lacework of the front verandah posts, while bunches of freshly picked gum leaves and greenery hung from the roof beams above the foyer, interspersed with delicate glass tea light globes. The rustic French provincial theme looked just as stunning set against the timber and ironwork of the homestead building as it would have in the purpose-built Orangery.
Her gaze moved towards the men lined up in their black tuxedos at the side of the archway, pausing on the tallest, most handsome one as she neared them, before she veered to the opposite side of the arch. She’d always thought he was drop-dead handsome, but in a tux, Tate was downright lethal, like a real-life Jax Lexington. She felt his eyes on her and lifted her gaze. For a moment, her heart seemed to stop. Smitten was a word that she’d always heard her gran use, and for some reason it came to her then. She was smitten. Completely and utterly smitten.
The ‘Bridal March’ struck up and Bel reluctantly dragged her eyes from Tate’s face to watch Larkin make her way down the staircase on the arm of her father. Bel’s heart hitched a little at the sight of father and daughter. That was something she would never experience, walking down the aisle with her dad. Her mother would never be sitting at the front of the congregation, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, and Gran wouldn’t be sitting beside her, wearing that proud, beaming smile she always wore. But Bel could imagine them all here now, still connected and part of the family even though they’d been gone for so long.
She cleared her throat and blinked hard to fight the tears that were threatening. She met her cousin’s gaze and smiled reassuringly. Larkin looked like a princess. Her ivory satin gown glowed like moonlight as she moved gracefully towards her soon-to-be husband and took his hand.
The celebrant’s soothing tone rose above the falling rain. ‘Welcome, friends and family. We are gathered here today to celebrate the love between Larkin and Tristan.’
