Husbands Of The Outback: Genni's Dilemma / Charlotte's Choice

“Since forever.”

“Poor Hilary! You’re breaking my heart,” Genevieve said and meant it.

“I don’t think so.”

“Absolutely,” Genevieve replied, feeling like she was mortally wounded.

“That’s why I’m glad your getting married.” Hilary smiled almost genially. “I knew one day you’d be out of our lives.”

“That’s no way to talk.” Genevieve rose to her feet in protest. “How can you feel like this, say such things to my face, and still come to my wedding?”

“Why?” Hilary looked up at Genevieve, brilliant malice in her eyes.

“Because dear, sweet, beautiful, Genevieve, it’s the day my brother will give you away forever.”

Hilary was still sitting there feeling slightly shaky, but thrilled to have dispensed with the fleeing Genevieve, when Blaine suddenly materialised beside her, almost making her jump out of her skin.

“Isn’t that Genni?” he demanded in the kind of voice that demanded a straight answer.

It took a tremendous effort for Hilary to pull herself together. How could she deny it? That white-gold rope of hair, the model figure, the grace of movement. “Yes, she just popped in to say hello.” She tried a blithe smile, thinking fast.

“Damned odd.” Blaine looked like he was about to take after her, such a restless radiance about him.

“Not really.” Hilary rose, grasping her stepbrother’s arm. “She and her bridesmaids were having a girl’s night out. That was Genni’s BMW parked out the front. Not supposed to do it, of course, but trust Genni to pull it off. A pity. You just missed her.”

“And how was she?” Blaine bent his light lancing glance on his stepsister.

“Oh, lovely! Deliriously happy.” Hilary turned an innocent face to him. “I’ve never seen a girl so much in love.”

“The little fool!” Blaine’s hard, handsome mouth tightened. “He’ll never make her happy.”

“But he will, Blaine,” Hilary insisted, hugging her brother’s arm. “She’s the love of his life!”

And we’re finally free of her.

“Don’t,” Blaine warned, his voice so strange Hilary stared at him vaguely terrified.

“Where’s Sally?” she asked in an effort to divert him.

“She went home an hour ago.” Blaine was still frowning, looking more formidable by the minute. “Surely you knew? We went right past you and your friend.”

“I must have missed you,” Hilary lied. “Sally’s a darling. Mum and I are delighted she’s the woman in your life.”

“Don’t be so dim-witted,” Blaine responded impatiently, his eyes silver chips in his arresting dark face. “Your mother thinks no such thing. As for you? A bit of wishful thinking. Are you sure that’s all Genni wanted?” he insisted. “To say hello?”

“What else?” Hilary wanted to turn and bolt, instead she lightly punched his shoulder. “She’s on top of the world. I am family.”

“So why did you turn down the role of bridesmaid?” Blaine challenged, giving her that lancing look that always made her feel so exposed.

She tried to make a joke of it. “You know. Genni’s so tall. So are her friends. I didn’t want to be the little pipsqueak in the middle. Genni understood. Come and join us for a minute.” Hilary had a powerful nervous urge to draw her stepbrother away.

“No thanks.” Blaine glanced down at her. “I want to leave a message at the desk. Goodnight, Hills. Sweet dreams.”

She stood on tiptoe to kiss his lean cheek. “You, too, brother mine. It’s going to be a wonderful day tomorrow. Like Genni, I can’t wait.”

CHAPTER TWO

The Wedding Day

GENEVIEVE’S four bridesmaids, Tiffany, Montana, Penelope and Astrid, were scattered across her mother’s enormous bedroom chattering and laughing, high on excitement, making minute adjustments to their bridesmaid gowns in a glorious palette of turquoise, fuchsia, lilac and violet, fanning out the voluminous silk skirts, tweaking the short sleeves that ballooned out from the ravishing off-the-shoulder necklines, smoothing the narrow tapered waistlines—all of the girls had been on a strict diet for a month: light breakfast on the day, absolutely nothing until the reception—settling their beautiful floral headpieces, works of art in themselves that matched the colour spectrum of their gowns. Each wore a necklace of twisted palest pink freshwater pearls with the clasp worn to the front, specially chosen to compliment their wonderful dresses—blue topaz, pink tourmaline, amethyst, sapphire—all set in an 18-carat-gold bezel, gifts from the bridegroom, Colin Garrett, heir to George Garrett, the Freight King.

“You should think about getting into your dress now, Genni,” Angel urged, feeling a mite cross at her daughter’s inappropriate lack of enthusiasm. “It’s getting seriously late.” She turned to waggle her fingers at the chief bridesmaid, Tiffany, a statuesque honey-blonde, who walked into Angel’s dressing room “the size of a department store with twice as much merchandise” as Tiffany had confided to her mother and emerged holding Genni’s gown aloft.

“Here comes the bride,” Tiffany tried to speak playfully but she, too, was perturbed by the look in her friend’s eyes, so poignant it was painful to behold. It couldn’t just be nerves. Genevieve looked very much like she didn’t want to get married. Not to Colin Garrett anyway despite the fact many women including Tiffany herself found Colin very attractive.

“Wow!” Montana gave a mesmerized gasp as the others crowded around. “It’s so beautiful it takes my breath away.”

“Me, too!” Astrid agreed, visibly affected. Five times a bridesmaid, she was starting to feel like she was being passed over. But what a gorgeous creation was this gown! Thousands of seed pearls, tiny rhinestones and crystals glimmered on the tight-fitting off-the-shoulder ivory silk bodice, an exquisite pattern that was repeated around the hem of the beautiful billowing skirt.

“I can’t wait to see you in it, Genni.” Astrid, her shiny dark hair gathered into a deep upturned roll at the nape, looked towards her friend. “It’s so absolutely you. I have to see you in it. Come on. You’re so nervy you’re turning me white.”

Genevieve managed to laugh as she always laughed at her friend Astrid. “It seems to me I’m giving my life away.”

Obediently she lifted her long slender legs exquisitely shod in handmade satin courts, stepping into her gown and standing perfectly still while her mother made short work of the long zipper in the back.

“Good God, Genni you’ve got terribly thin,” Angel protested, giving an exasperated sigh. “The waistline could do with another tuck.”

“It’s all right,” Genni insisted, edging away quietly. “Don’t fuss, Angel. I want no fuss.”

“All right, my darling. All right.” Angel trilled, adopting a rare motherly tone to counteract Tiffany’s look of veiled censure. Cheek of the girl! Someone should remind her of her manners. Angel continued to stare into her daughter’s face, feeling a cold wave of panic.

Genevieve had tried to open her heart to her but she hadn’t wanted to listen. Still didn’t for that matter. She was so bloody desperate to get Genevieve married off to the right man. Someone who knew how to respect a beautiful mother-in-law and shower her with gifts. But under the silky golden tan she always had in summer Genni was very pale, her violet eyes so huge they dominated her small face. They seemed to be the only colour about her. Maybe her lipstick, in a luminous frosted rose, needed a heavier application, a touch more blusher? Angel concentrated hard.

“Now the veil!” Montana, the only one not feeling the tension or misinterpreting it as normal bridal jitters approached carrying the full-length tulle veil tenderly over her arm. The headpiece of three exquisite full-blown silk roses, pink and cream with touches of gold was already set in place. Genni was wearing her hair long and loose, the natural curl exaggerated by her hairdresser to suit the romantic conception.

“All right, sweetie?” Montana, very pretty with short caramel-coloured hair, looked at her friend carefully. A number of expressions flitted across Genevieve’s face. Enough to suddenly make warning bells go off in Montana’s head. Colin was very rich, a lot of fun, but admittedly he couldn’t hold a candle to someone like…someone like…well, someone like Genevieve’s cousin, for instance, Blaine Courtland, the big cattle baron. But he was family, the man who was giving Genevieve away. The man due to arrive in about ten minutes at the house.

“Genni’s a bit stressed.” Angel threw her daughter a bracing look. “Big weddings are always like this.” Together she and Montana adjusted the full-length two-tiered tulle veil edged with the finest band of crystals.

“You look truly beautiful, Genni. You bring tears to my eyes.” Montana very gently kissed her friend’s cheek. “I wish you all the happiness in the world. One thing’s certain, Colin will always make you laugh. If he hadn’t fallen in love with you I’d have been after him myself.”

“You were after him, darling,” Astrid slipped in somewhat tartly.

Montana snorted in self-derision. “With Genni around I didn’t stand a chance.”

“Hold up your head, Genni!” clucked Angel, looking absolutely delicious not to say saucy in a light-as-air, sheer-as-silk aquamarine chiffon with swirls of gold and a colourmatched confection on her head that looked like some fabulous intergalactic butterfly had landed. “And do please try to smile.”

Genevieve wasn’t sure she could. Conflicting emotions were threatening to overthrow her and she was starting to feel stomach cramps. On one level she couldn’t bear to be the cause of a dreadful scandal, the gossip columns would outdo each other in their efforts to blame her. Mention would be made of her notoriously fickle mother. She couldn’t bear to bring pain and humiliation to the perennially light-hearted Colin. He trusted her. He wanted her. She wasn’t absolutely sure he loved her. He certainly hadn’t shown her an excess of passion. She knew that now.