Lilian Darcy - The Australian's Desire - Their Lost-and-Found Family / Long-Lost Son - Brand-New Family / A Proposal Worth Waiting For

So get a grip, he told himself, but he let himself look at her for one long moment before he stood and walked slowly to the door.

And left her to her sleeping.

This wind was getting frightening. As Alistair walked out into the living room a shutter slammed off its hinges, hit the wall, broke off and tumbled crosswise past the house. He heard its progress, not falling but being blown. It was a big shutter.

One of the assembled bridesmaids screamed.

There were so many bridesmaids, still clustered. Apparently they’d dispersed to get their make-up done and now they’d regrouped. How long did bridal preparations last? The photographer was trying to get them lined up but was having trouble.

Gina waved to him from the back row. He hadn’t recognised her until now. Pink tulle?

‘It’s ridiculous,’ she said, abandoning the photo set-up and sidling out of her spot to join him. ‘Poor Em.’

‘Didn’t she plan this?’ he said, staring at … pink?

‘Mrs Poulos planned this,’ she said. ‘Sophia. Mike’s mum. This is a big Greek wedding, just as she’s always dreamed of. Em loves her too much to say no.’

‘I never thought I’d see you in pink tulle.’

‘Apricot,’ she retorted.

‘Right. Apricot.’

‘Sophia wanted the men in apricot dinner suits with apricot and white frills on their dinner shirts. But Mike put his foot down at that. They’re in black tuxes.’

‘Cal, too?’

‘Cal, too.’

‘And for your wedding?’ he asked in a voice of deep foreboding, and she chuckled.

‘If I asked you to wear apricot ruffles to my wedding, would you? Cousin?’

‘No,’ he said, revolted.

‘Not even if I said please?’

‘There’s no love in the world great enough to encompass apricot frills.’

‘Or red stilettos?’ she teased him, and he stopped smiling.

‘Gina …’

‘I know.’ Her smile widened. ‘It’s none of my business. But you and Georgie aren’t slugging any more, I hope?’

‘We were never slugging.’

‘She’s had such a hard time.’

‘I’m starting to realise that.’

‘Georgie’s my only bridesmaid so you have to be nice to her.’ She grinned. ‘And, I promise, no tulle.’

He smiled back. He was trying to think of Georgie in tulle and failing dismally.

‘She’s OK?’ Gina asked.

‘She’d be better if she knew where Max was. I’ve been ringing through a list of her father’s friends.’

‘She let you do that?’ Gina’s eyes widened.

‘I offered.’

‘Yeah, but Georgie …’ She hesitated.

‘Gina, get back in line,’ someone yelled, and Gina sighed and shrugged and smiled.

‘Duty calls. Come and watch the wedding.’

‘I’m not invited.’

‘This is Croc Creek. Everyone’s invited. Come at least to the church. It should be fun.’

And they all left, just like that. The photographer abandoned his work as hopeless and the car drivers ushered the girls out to the waiting cars. They were almost blown off their feet as they ran from house to cars.

Then they were gone, and the silence was unnerving.

What to do?

He’d already offered to help out at the hospital, thinking all the doctors would be at the wedding. But apparently two young doctors had arrived only three weeks ago—two eager and skilled interns on a working holiday from Germany. Herrick and Ilse were more than capable of taking charge and calling for help when needed.

Maybe he could go for a swim. But the wind made being outside unpleasant. The pool was protected, but even from here he could see the surface was littered with plant matter.

He should … He should …

Stay here. But … Georgie was sleeping off the bruise to her cheek, as well as making up, he suspected, for the sleep she hadn’t had the night before. The thought of staying alone in the same house with the sleeping Georgie was somehow unnerving.

He’d head out onto the veranda to read. But just as he was making that decision, Mr and Mrs Grubb arrived. They swept into the kitchen to deliver a couple of casseroles—‘for the doctors’ supper if they get called away from the wedding, poor dears, and there’s that nice young German couple as well need feeding up’. They were ceremoniously attired in their Sunday best. Dora’s hat was … amazing.

‘Why are you still here?’ Dora demanded, and she seemed almost offended by the sight of him.

‘Georgie’s asleep.’

‘All the more reason for you not to be here,’ she snapped. ‘Is that the only reason you don’t want to come to the wedding?’

‘I’m not invited.’

‘That’s a nonsense. Everyone’s invited and it’s not proper for you to stay here with Dr Georgie. You could be anyone.’

‘As if I’m going to—’

‘You’re American, aren’t you?’ she demanded. ‘I know your reputation. Overpaid, over-sexed and over here. Go put a suit and tie on and we’ll wait for you.’

Some things weren’t worth fighting. Deciding that defending his national dignity wasn’t ever going to work, he decided on the second option. It seemed he was going to a wedding.

And so was Georgie.

It only took him a moment to change into his suit and when he returned to the kitchen Georgie was there. She was dressed, demurely for Georgie, in a tiny suit. In her beloved pillar-box red. And red stilettos. The skimpy skirt and jacket showed every curve of her gorgeous body. She’d applied make-up skilfully over her bruise, and it hardly showed under dark glasses. She was … gorgeous.

He stood in the doorway and stared.

She turned and saw him. And grinned.

‘I overheard,’ she said, and she chuckled. ‘I decided I’d better come to the wedding. Maybe I needed Dora’s chaperonage.’

‘You need to be in bed.’

‘I’m too scared to stay in bed. Over-sexed, eh?’

‘You shouldn’t be scared,’ he said sourly. ‘I’m going to a wedding.’

‘Me, too,’ she said cheerfully, and linked her arm through his. ‘Overpaid too?’

‘That’s from the war,’ Mr Grubb said, disconcerted. ‘It’s what we said about all the Yankee soldiers. They’re not like that now,’ he told his wife. ‘At least this ‘un isn’t.’

‘I can see that. How nice.’ Mrs Grubb had changed tack, beaming at the unexpected expansion in her wedding party. ‘You make a lovely couple. My mum’s best friend, Ethel, ran away with an American sailor. He bought her silk stockings and they lived happily ever after.’ She poked Mr Grubb in the ribs. ‘Silk stockings. That’s the way to a girl’s heart.’

‘We have other things than silk stockings,’ Mr Grubb said with dignity.

‘What things?’ Dora demanded. Then she relented and giggled. ‘Oh, well, I guess you are OK in the cot.’ Then at the sight of Georgie and Alistair’s stunned expressions she choked back her giggles and sighed. ‘Oh, what it is to be young. Look at the pair of you. Ooh, I hear Cupid in the wings.’

‘Dora,’ Georgie said, quelling her with a look. ‘I’m only going for the service.’

‘Me, too,’ Alistair said, and Dora beamed some more.

‘Yes, dear. And then you can walk home together after. If this wind settles, like Sergeant Harry says it’s going to settle—which it’s not going to. It’s going to be a biggie. I said to Grubb just before we got dressed, I said, it’s going to be huge. I can feel it in my waters.’

‘Um … what are your waters talking about?’ Georgie said nervously, while Alistair said nothing at all. He was feeling like he was having an out-of-body experience and it was getting weirder by the minute.

‘Cyclone, dear, that’s what I’m feeling, no matter what Sergeant Harry’s telling us. Veering offshore indeed.’ Dora puffed herself up like an important peahen—or maybe peacock with that hat—gathered her shiny purse and took her husband’s arm. ‘But no matter. We’ve weathered cyclones before and we’ll weather them again. Now, then, Grubb, let’s all of us go to this wedding. Ooh, I do like a good wedding. Mind, one wedding breeds ten more, that’s what I always say, and this one’s no different.’ She cast a not so covert look at Alistair and then at Georgie. ‘I can feel that in my waters as well.’