“Cigars stink, and so does this party,” he said heavily. “Have the captain stop at the next dock.”
“The captain takes his orders from me, and he’s not stopping,” Eric said.
“You’re not thinking of jumping ship, are you, Neill?” Kevin asked in surprise.
“Just watch me,” said Neill. Before any of them could reach him, he was up and over the rail. He poised gracefully before diving into the water.
“Hey!” cried Kevin. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Going to Bianca, Neill thought as he surfaced and shook the water out of his eyes. He set off for the nearest dock, stroking through the dark, starshimmering water. Behind him the Truelove motored on, the captain oblivious to the fact that he now had one less passenger on board.
Neill thought he heard a splash behind him, but he figured it was only an empty bottle tossed overboard. At the moment, he was more concerned about ruining a perfectly good pair of new Gucci loafers.
A DECOROUS CAROLINE, wearing delicately flowered crepe georgette and sitting beneath a canopy consisting of hundreds of pink and white balloons, had barely distributed the bridesmaids’ gifts at the bachelorette party when Nana jumped up from the table in the hotel’s elegant ballroom where the party was being held.
“Now I have a present for you, my lovely Caroline, a dance that I’ve titled ‘Ode to a Bride.’ I brought a tape of the music and everything.” She winked at her speechless granddaughter. Members of the string quartet suddenly stopped playing.
The silence of the other women present was deafening. Genevieve half rose from her chair, the bellshaped sleeves of her lace frock quivering. “I’m sure you’re too tired to even think about dancing, Mother,” she said hastily and none too gently.
“Au contraire, my dear. I slept for quite a while this afternoon,” and Nana turned with a devil-may-care flourish to the mirrored armoire behind her. She threw open the elaborately carved door to expose a rack of stereo components. “Now,” she said, producing an audio cassette tape from the flowing folds of her lavender chiffon gown, “I’ll just pop this in,” but she froze. “How strange,” she murmured. “There’s already a tape in here. I wonder whose it is?”
Bianca folded Caroline’s bridesmaid gift to her, a silver-backed mirror engraved with her initials, into its blue velvet case. At the same time, a loud knock rapped on the door nearest the head of the table.
“Are we expecting anyone, Mummy?” Caroline asked as all the women’s faces turned expectantly.
“If so, I’m not aware of it,” Genevieve said.
The door sprang open to admit an enormous wedding cake on wheels. It was decorated with a mass of gaudy tissue-paper roses, and Caroline’s and Eric’s names were entwined in sparkly silver letters across the top. The straight-faced busboys who wheeled this monstrosity through the door guided it carefully to the middle of the room. Genevieve stared, her mouth hanging open in an uncharacteristically undignified way. Caroline’s hand fluttered to the perfectly matched string of pearls at her throat.
“There must be some mistake,” Genevieve said, recovering slightly. “We didn’t order this.”
“Mummy, the cake must be meant for some other party,” Caroline said uncertainly, but Genevieve’s reply was lost in a sudden blare from stereo speakers signaling the popping of the top off the cake.
Bianca, like everyone else present, stared in disbelief as the figure of a man, a muscular and singularly attractive man, burst in glittering splendor from the wedding cake. He was painted from head to toe in gold body paint and wore a gold lamé loincloth along with a stiff white collar, a black-and-white polka-dot tie, and white cuffs complete with rhinestone cuff links. As the female members of the wedding party and other female guests watched, he leapt free of his conveyance and began to gyrate in time to the ditty known as “The Stripper.”
When Bianca had recovered slightly from the shock of his appearance, she stole a peek at Genevieve, whose face was turning an unbecoming shade of puce. Caroline’s hands flew up to cover her mouth, her eyes bugging out of her head. Genevieve’s quiet, unassuming social secretary, Anne, looked as if the hinges in her jaw had given way.
At first, because the gold paint effectively camouflaged his features, Bianca had no idea who their dancing man might be. But as he sprang to the tabletop, almost dashing several flutes of champagne to the floor, she recognized him.
It was Storm Schrempf stirring up a tempest. No way had Genevieve Knox requested him to entertain at her daughter’s bachelorette party.
And entertain he did. First he ripped off his tie and draped it around Genevieve’s neck. She didn’t know where to look, down at the tie or up at his grinding pelvis. Then he removed his cuff links. Next he ripped off the cuffs and, after posing with them held above his head to better display his muscular torso, he chucked them into a potted palm. The last article of clothing to be removed was his stiff white collar, which he held aloft before placing it gently on Caroline’s head like a crown.
Caroline gasped and wailed, “Mum-my,” but the apoplectic Genevieve was in no condition to help. She was fanning herself through a hot flash with one of the hand-printed menu cards.
Storm dipped and wheeled, his pelvis still rocking rhythmically. “Anybody wanna dance?” he shouted over the swell of the music.
“I thought you’d never ask!” shouted Nana, and Bianca watched in shock as she shimmied over to the gold-painted man and proceeded to match bump for grind right along with him.
Caroline dissolved into hysteria. Bianca rose with the intention of escaping to the ladies’ room as Genevieve, her eyelids fluttering as if she were about to keel over in a dead faint, stood up. And suddenly Bianca, who knew that Gen had already pegged her as a troublemaker, knew what was coming.
Genevieve pointed an accusing finger. “You. . .you. . .” she said, mustering her strength.
And that was when Neill Bellamy, soaking wet from head to toe, threw the door open and walked purposefully to Bianca, his eyes fiery, his lips in a grim line, and water squishing from his shoes at every step. Not far behind was an equally waterlogged Joe heading toward Lizzie....
Chapter Nine
Bianca didn’t know what Neill’s watery presence at the bachelorette party meant, but she had never been so happy to see anyone in her entire life.
Genevieve ignored him, and as was her wont at any provocation, lit into Bianca. “Who else but you, Bianca, is outrageous enough to force a disgusting spectacle like that on the rest of us?” The words were delivered in tightly controlled tones, but Bianca had the impression that Genevieve was distinctly blotto.
Bianca’s feet rooted themselves to the spot. “You think I invited a stripper to come here and jump out of that cake?” she blurted.
Neill stepped forward and cleared his throat. “Of course she didn’t,” he said, injecting a note of sanity, if you could call it that when he looked as if he’d just been ejected from a Maytag, and before the spin cycle.
“Of course I didn’t,” Bianca repeated firmly. Something about Neill’s deep voice and the determined jut of his jawline gave her confidence. Caroline’s mother might want to squash her like an ant at a garden party, but Bianca was in no mood to allow it. She had run away last year; this time she’d stand her ground.
Genevieve acted as if neither of them had spoken. “First you ruined the engagement party, now you’re trying to sabotage the wedding,” she sputtered, her fury on the upswing. “There is a limit to how much more we can bear.” The royal we did not escape Bianca.
“I thought the young man was rather fun,” said Nana. “We needed something to pep us up. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Genevieve darling, but your parties are, well, rather boring. Stuffy, and worse.”
“They are?” Genevieve said in a small voice. “You think I’m stuffy?”
“Ever since you were a little girl, you’ve tried to compensate for having a mother who is a free spirit, a lighthearted being, and oh, I kn
ow it’s been hard for you, but there’s no need to act as if—” began Nana.
“Hush, Nana,” interjected Winnie. “I thought Storm was really funky.”
“Did you ever think that the man might have done this on his own?” Bianca asked, striving to keep her voice down.
Genevieve had recovered enough to jump back into the argument. “Why, I saw you talking with him earlier. Winnie remarked that you two were in deep conversation.”
“In deep conversation?” Bianca was mystified.
“Near the pond today.”
“Oh, that. Storm and I were only chatting, Genevieve. We weren’t plotting anything.”
“Of course they weren’t,” said Winnie, jumping up from her seat. “Kevin and I, um, thought it might be fun to let Storm entertain. After all, it’s what he does for a living, so we paid him to jump out of the cake. He’s a professional.”
“A professional what is what I’d like to know.” huffed Genevieve.
Caroline, her nose blown and her eyes wiped, jumped in to soothe. “Certainly he was a surprise, Mummy. And yes, I was stunned, but I can’t say that his performance was offensive. I’ve seen worse on television, really I have.”
“I wish he’d have danced longer,” Winnie said, whose eagerness was barely concealed.
“Dear God,” said the beleaguered Genevieve, collapsing in her chair.
Caroline inserted herself into the breach with an aplomb that did credit to her good breeding. “Bianca, please sit down. Mummy was wrong. And Winnie, don’t worry, it was fun.” She nodded at one of the astonished waiters, who had hovered motionless near the door since the evening’s entertainment commenced. “Now perhaps we could have dessert,” Caroline added.
“I think,” said Nana, “we’ve just had him... Er—it, I mean.” She looked as if she were about to let loose with a big guffaw.
Genevieve did not say a word.
“Bianca, let’s go,” Neill said, linking her hand through his arm.
Bianca couldn’t wait to leave. “Thank you, Caroline. The dinner was delicious, and the engraved mirror is lovely. I’ll see you all tomorrow.” She forced a pleasant smile through gritted teeth. After that, with the obligatory thank-yous out of the way, she could think of no good reason not to accompany Neill out of the room with her head held high, her arm looped through his.
“I wonder why Neill’s clothes are all wet,” piped Winnie.
“Caroline, darling, do you think I’m dull?” they both heard Genevieve murmur plaintively as they escaped.
Once outside the ballroom, Bianca removed her arm from Neill’s and stared at him. His hair hung over one eye, and something that looked suspiciously like algae was twined around the gold button on his blazer.
“Yikes,” she said. “Where did you come from? The Poseidon Adventure?”
“Actually, it was more like Jaws. Eric and I got in a fight—”
“A fight!”
“—and I dived off the boat and swam to the nearest dock—”
“Swam!”
“—and Joe jumped in after me, since he thinks he has to save everyone in sight—”
“Joe!”
“Another former stepsibling of mine, as you might recall. He’s lurking around here somewhere—”
“Lurking?”
“Apparently he and Lizzie have something going.”
“What on earth—! But how did you get back here?”
Neill rubbed his chin, considering this. “I hitchhiked.”
“Hitchhiked?” She was mystified. “You shouldn’t have left the bachelor party. You’re the best man.”
“Tonight I’m satisfied to be second-best man. I left Kevin to do the honors, which as far as I can tell mostly involve keeping Eric from getting drunk and out of trouble on the night before his wedding. Not that it seems to be working, I might add.”
“Oh, great. That’s one more thing to worry about.” Not that she was surprised; anything could happen at a Bellamy wedding. She knew it and Neill knew it.
“Bianca, let’s not think about it. It’s not our problem,” Neill said. He whipped off his wet tie and stuffed it in his blazer pocket.
Bianca paused a moment before answering. “No,” she agreed finally. They had other concerns, and she didn’t know how much longer she was going to be able to avoid them, even though she was grateful for Neill’s timely appearance.
“Come on, let’s get out of here. I’m dripping all over the carpet.” He took her arm and began to hustle her past the door of the Cygnet Club.
As they hurried past unobserved, they caught a glimpse of Storm describing his dance, complete with gestures, to a captivated audience.
Neill pulled her into an alcove in the lobby where they were effectively shielded from view by a potted palm. “Look, Bianca. Can we go somewhere? Just the two of us?”
He spoke the words with quiet intensity and was looking at her so earnestly that she didn’t want him to stop. She wanted him to go on looking at her that way forever. It was the openness of his expression that was so disarming, and it made her feel as if she could keep no secrets from him. And that was ridiculous; she had one big secret that she must hold in her heart forever. She pushed the thought into a separate part of herself, isolating it from what was happening here and now.
“You,” she said, “are soaking wet.”
“The palm tree needs watering.” He pulled his soggy tie out of his pocket and wrung it into the foliage.
At least this afforded Bianca the chance to escape. Neill moved to block her, but she effectively sidestepped him. She heard his footsteps slogging along behind her as she darted out the front door of the hotel.
“I feel like I’m being followed by the Creature from the Black Lagoon,” she said over her shoulder.
“You’re in the mood for a movie tonight, aren’t you? The Poseidon Adventure, Jaws, and now,” and he lowered his voice to a tone of deadly menace, “the Crea-turrre. ” Behind her, he lifted his arms above his head and snarled.
“Act like a grown-up,” she said, almost ready to laugh. “Besides, you mentioned Jaws, not me.”
“Somehow, a Bellamy wedding doesn’t seem like an event where anyone acts like a grown-up. Stop by my cottage with me and we’ll see what videos the hotel has supplied. There’s a whole case full of them, and a VCR, too.”
“I don’t want to see any videotapes,” she said.
“Not even of the biggest emerald ever mined at Viceroy-Bellamy mines?”
He would dangle that in front of her as bait. He knew she was thinking about starting a gemstone line.
“I really need to pick up Tia at the baby-sitter’s,” she said, knowing even as she said it that Tia wouldn’t know if she were picked up now or later. Tia was probably sound asleep.
“You know, you’re hiding behind that baby,” Neill said.
She attempted a laugh but didn’t carry it off very well. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said.
“Since you’re a jewelry designer, I thought you might be interested in the marketing video we use at the mine. I could change clothes while you watch it, and afterward I’ll walk with you to pick up Tia. I don’t like the idea of your walking around alone in the grounds at night.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Neill. With all the extra security precautions, Swan’s Folly is perfectly safe,” she said.
“I’ve heard rumors of a jewel thief, Genevieve is worried about kidnappers and today you were almost flattened by a swan,” he reminded her, raising one eyebrow.
“I’m not concerned about thieves or kidnappers, and don’t swans sleep at night?”
“Maybe, but why don’t you indulge me?” he said lightly.
“You’re shivering,” she said.
“All the more reason for me to get out of these wet clothes.”
Bianca sighed. “Okay. We’ll go to your cottage. But it had better only take a few minutes.”
“A few minutes,” he agreed solemnly.
She walked beside
him along the moonlit path. Above them, the trees swayed sensuously in the caress of a light summer breeze. At Mulberry Cottage, Neill held the door for her so she could precede him inside. The interior, a small living room that she’d only glimpsed briefly earlier, was all English country, with chintz prints and mullioned windows and even a pair of Staffordshire spaniels flanking the oak mantel. Bianca stepped inside wordlessly, her heart speeding up. She didn’t think that being alone with Neill was the wisest thing to do, but why think at all?
Neill flipped on the TV set, popped a tape in the VCR, and excused himself to the rear of the cottage, where she presumed there was a bedroom. Bianca sat down on one of the wing chairs while distractedly watching the videotape of emeralds from the Viceroy-Bellamy mine. Behind the closed door, she heard Neill moving around. Doors opened and closed, a bedspring squeaked. She imagined she heard Neill sliding out of wet clothes and into dry ones and pictured the way he’d look without any clothes on. It grew quieter, but she kept listening, all the while keeping track of some of the most gorgeous jewels she’d ever seen as they were paraded through the video by models wearing emerald rings, earrings and necklaces.
Her interest in the emeralds grew as she watched. The stones were beautiful, but the jewelry designs were stodgy. If she were the designer, she’d incorporate more gold and platinum, mix the emeralds with semiprecious stones, try avant-garde settings for the rings.
“What do you think of our products?” Neill said, sticking his head out the bedroom door. His hair was wetter now, and belatedly she realized that of course he would have showered before changing clothes.
“Amazing,” she said. “I had no idea your mine produced such stunners.”
“Some of our best emeralds aren’t on the video because they were mined after it was filmed. Keep watching, I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He closed the bedroom door again, and she heard the sound of a hair dryer.
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