by Sharon Booth
'Oh hell. Bloody Freya's coming over and she's bringing the brat with her. She's done it on purpose.'
Eliot raised an eyebrow. 'What do you mean? Done what on purpose?'
'Long story. Suffice it to say, Freya thinks she's found another way to make me squirm. She always finds a person's weakness. Well, I won't give her the satisfaction.'
'I need — er, will you excuse me a moment?' Ignoring her look of disappointment, he stood and made his way out of the room towards the toilets. There was no way he was going to sit there while Freya lorded it over him. He'd only met her once before, but that was enough, and besides, he didn't want to be reminded of the time she'd turned up at Fleetsthorpe. It was a painful memory. He'd been shocked and devastated, but even so, he'd been horrible to Eden. It still made him sweat when he thought about how cruel he'd been. He was bloody lucky she'd understood his reasons and forgiven him.
Washing his hands in the luxurious gentlemen's toilets a few minutes later, he surveyed himself in the mirror and pulled a face. He was hot, and he felt stifled with the dratted bow tie on. He ran his finger around his collar again, and a fair-haired man, roughly his own age, who was washing his hands at the next basin, grinned at him.
'Feel like you're being throttled?'
It was an American accent, and Eliot found it a lot friendlier than the posh accents everyone at his table had been speaking with. He relaxed a little and nodded. 'Aye, you could say that.'
They both dried their hands and the man said, 'Maybe we could risk unbuttoning our collars now? I mean, the formal bit's done with, right? The service and the meal.'
'I wish,' said Eliot gloomily. 'We've got all those bloody speeches to listen to now. No doubt that will go on forever and a day. Then more photos, and the cake and then dancing. I mean. Dancing!'
'Guess you're not one for socialising.' The man's blue eyes twinkled with amusement.
'Depends who it's with,' Eliot admitted. 'I'm feeling a bit like a fish out of water, to be truthful.'
'Me, too. My family seems to have a fondness for courting fame. I'd love to attend one of their weddings and find no journalists present. What a treat that would be.'
'Your family?' Eliot studied him. 'You're related to Teddy? Or Honey?'
'Honey's my kid sister,' he said. 'Sorry, I haven't introduced myself.' He held out his hand. 'Jed Carmichael.'
'Ah, right. One of them twins. Eliot Harland.'
'Hi, Eliot. Good to meet you. So, how come you're here? Who blackmailed you into attending?' He grinned, and Eliot laughed, liking him, despite him being a Carmichael.
'My fiancée's a friend of Honey's.' It felt good to call Eden his fiancée, but he wished he could have said wife. How much longer would it be?
'Great. So, you're obviously familiar with our weird family set-up.'
'Had to take a test, would you believe?' Eliot tutted. 'Eden used to work for Cain, otherwise I wouldn't be anywhere near this place. I'm not one for all this celebrity lark, you see, but Eden's Honey's bridesmaid. Well, one of them. She's the fair-haired one.'
'Yeah, I figured. The one with the reddish hair is my sister, Scarlet.'
'Oh, your twin.' Eliot felt quite pleased with himself for remembering. 'Complicated, your family tree, isn't it?'
'Sure is, and who knows how many more illegitimate kids will crawl out of the woodwork?' He winked. 'My brother's also an usher, and my other sister's at some table somewhere. She and Honey aren't real close. Poor Emerald.'
'Emerald?'
'Yeah. You know her?'
'She's sitting next to me at my table.'
Jed shook his head. 'I don't know who organised the seating plan at this wedding. You're the bridesmaid's fiancée, and Emerald's the bride's sister. I think you should both be at the front table, never mind a load of Freya's relatives who Honey hasn't seen for years. Look, do you mind if I ask you a favour?'
Eliot looked at him in surprise. He barely knew him, and he was asking for favours? 'I suppose so. Depends what it is, mind.'
Jed nodded. 'Sure. It's nothing major. Only, Emerald's here on her own, and she's not had an easy time of it. Between you and me, I think she's kind of been pushed out by Dad and Honey, and she tries to pretend everything's fine and she's not bothered, but I can see she is. Would you keep her company? You know, be nice to her, make sure she's not on her own? Until the speeches are over, and we can all move about freely. I'll come over and talk with her then, and you can go off to be with your fiancée. Deal?'
Eliot shrugged. 'Don't see why not. She's friendly enough.'
'Great. By the way, I like your fiancée. I saw the way she took my nephew under her wing and looked out for him during the service. She's been making him laugh during the meal, too. I'm impressed.'
Eliot beamed with pride. 'She's great with kids. I've got three, and she's amazing with them. They've started to call her Mum these past few months. We didn't ask them to,' he added, 'and they'll always know who their mummy was, but —'
'You're divorced?'
Eliot shook his head. Bloody hell, how had he got into this conversation again? 'Widowed.'
'I'm sorry.'
'Yeah. Thanks.' He felt a hypocrite and changed the subject. 'So, do you reckon we can risk taking these bow ties off then?'
'Maybe not yet. I wouldn't worry, In an hour or so, everyone will be drunk as skunks and half undressed, if past experience is anything to go by.'
'Bloody hell.' He'd be long gone before that happened.
Jed clapped him on the shoulder. 'Come on then, Eliot. Back into the fray. And thanks again for taking care of Emerald. I appreciate it.'
Eliot nodded. Glancing at his watch, he wondered how much longer this would go on for. All he wanted to do was take Eden back to their room, take off that posh dress, and mess up that structured hair. He couldn't wait. Sadly, it seemed he would have to.
****
Emerald was fuming. Freya had been as patronising as expected, rubbing it in that both Marcus and his child had a seat at the top table while she, Cain's legitimate child, was relegated to the back of the room.
Freya disliked Emerald because Cain had been caught up in a battle with Cassandra over maintenance payments for Emerald while Freya had been married to him, which she insisted had quite taken the shine off their entire marriage. Never mind his well-publicised affairs and penchant for drugs and alcohol. Emerald was the cause of their divorce, clearly.
Well, everything was her fault, wasn't it? She'd always been aware that her mother felt that if she hadn't been saddled with a child, Cain might not have looked elsewhere. Cassandra was blameless.
With Sandy more-or-less bringing up Marcus alone, Lowri dragging Scarlet and Jed to America, and Cassandra moving Emerald from place to place in a desperate attempt to forget her husband's betrayal and carve a new career for herself, Honey had become their father's main focus in life. His little princess. No one else came close. It was all right for the others. They'd got stepfathers, settled homes, real lives, whereas it seemed to her that she'd not had the chance to be a child. She wasn't Cassandra's daughter. She was luggage.
Freya might still be gloating if the little prince hadn't whined to go to the toilet. At least she had one thing to thank him for.
She tapped her fingers on the table, as an uncomfortable feeling of guilt attacked her. Wasn't she being as unfair to the child as everyone had been to her? It wasn't his fault, after all, that Cain Carmichael had been a rake, any more than it had been hers. Nor, and she hated to admit it, was it Marcus's fault. He hadn't asked to be born into this chaotic family, any more than she had. If truth be told, the blame for all this mess lay at her father's feet. It should be him that felt guilty, but look at him, sitting there at the top table as if butter wouldn't melt.
She glared as she saw him lean over and kiss Honey on the cheek. What a slimeball he was. And he was all over that rude bridesmaid, too. Emerald gaped as he went over to her, put his arm around her and hugged her to him. Honey said someth
ing, and they all laughed. How very cosy.
'She's gone then?'
The northern tones made her jump, but not in an unpleasant way. She turned, glad of the distraction, and smiled as Eliot returned to his seat. 'Yes, she has. Not before making me feel like shit, though, but it's only what I'd expected.'
'Don't take any notice of her. You're worth ten of her.'
Emerald felt a bubbling warmth surge through her. His brown eyes were sparkling with a hint of mischief, and his very sensuous lips were smiling at her. He looked terribly sexy. Those dark curls were begging her to run her fingers through them. She realised she was staring at him and tried her best to look away, but he was mesmerising. All right, he had a broad northern accent and probably spent his days milking cows and ploughing fields or something but look at him! She was willing to overlook that thick accent and his obvious lack of social graces. She was willing to overlook anything. He was like Heathcliff without all that weird, cloying jealousy and the psychopathic tendencies.
'Oh, God, here we go,' he muttered, and she blinked, realising the toastmaster was introducing her father and he was about to start his speech.
'This should be fun,' she murmured, picking up the bottle of wine that was on the table and refilling her glass. As she went to top up Eliot's glass, though, he shook his head.
'Not for me, thanks. I've had enough.'
'Enough? You've only had a couple!'
'Aye, well, I need to keep a clear head.' There was something about the way he said it that made her think he was being mischievous again. Like, maybe he wanted to stay sober for a specific reason, and a specific person. She felt an immediate thrill and took a gulp of wine. Maybe this dratted wedding was worth attending, after all.
As her father droned on and on about how Teddy and Honey had first met — as if anyone cared — Emerald was all too aware of Eliot's presence beside her. When would he make his move? Or should she be the one to seduce him? She guessed he was quite old-fashioned and would want to be the one who approached her. That was fine by her. She hoped he'd hurry up and get on with it.
'So, she had Eden over a barrel,' she heard Cain say. What had she got to do with anything? She saw her father glance affectionately at Eden, and her stomach knotted with jealousy. Why was he so obsessed with that bloody bridesmaid? Probably shagging her.
'He's going on a bit, isn't he?' she whispered, turning back to Eliot. Surprised to see him listening intently to the speech, she thought he was too well-mannered for his own good, and not at all as she'd thought he was when she first saw him. She felt quite hot with shame when she thought how she'd spoken to him at the reception. What must he have thought of her? It said quite a lot that he didn't harbour a grudge.
'I'm a lucky man,' Cain continued. 'I've got five children of me own, and then Eden arrived on the scene an' all.'
'God, will he ever shut up?' muttered Emerald. What was this? A wedding, or a convention of the Eden Fan Club? He'd be saying she was like a daughter to him next, and that would be the final straw.
'I couldn't be prouder of my kids,' Cain said, beaming widely at his captive audience. Wonders will never cease, Emerald thought. 'My eldest son is a songwriter and lead guitarist in a great band. They've had two hit albums already, and I know that's just the start.' Yeah, dream on. 'My eldest daughter is a television star in the States, and I reckon she'll be in the movies before you can say Angelina Jolie.' Selling popcorn, maybe. 'My youngest son has a very responsible position in the financial sector.' He works in a sodding bank! 'As for Eden, well she's been like a daughter to me, and she's a brilliant step-mum to three lovely kids and is starting a new business venture of her own.' My God, he's said it! Like a daughter to him! Look at her, pretending to be embarrassed. Like hell she's embarrassed. She's lapping this up! 'And now, my baby girl has gone and got married to a man with a heart of gold, and together they're doing great work for a brilliant charity in Africa.' She visited for five days! She's hardly Bob bloody Geldof. 'So, I'd like to raise a toast...'
Emerald froze. What about me? As everyone stood to toast the happy couple, she felt her heart thumping out a protest. He'd forgotten her. His middle daughter hadn't warranted so much as a mention. Jed was looking at her with sympathy written all over his face, and even Scarlet was eyeing her awkwardly. Honey, of course, wasn't remotely concerned. She was exchanging smug grins with Eden. Bloody Eden! She'd warranted a mention. She'd taken Emerald's place in her own father's speech. Why was everyone so besotted with her?
Emerald found herself loathing someone even more than she loathed Honey and Marcus. She had to get out of there. She felt sick and the last thing she wanted was to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing how angry and upset she was. Sod Eliot's masculine pride. She would have to make the first move, after all. She thought going to bed with him might be the only thing that would soothe her wounded soul. There was no harm in trying, anyway.
As she turned to speak to him, her world stood still. He was looking across at the top table, and there was no disguising the expression of love in his eyes. She turned back and saw Eden returning the look. They were together? That was why he hadn't been drinking. That was what he'd meant. And she'd thought ...
As everyone sat down again, and a camera began to flash, Emerald grabbed her clutch bag. Without even offering a word of explanation, she headed out of the room and rushed to the toilets, where she locked herself in a cubicle and leaned against the wall, her throat tight as she fought off tears.
She was a fool. When would she ever learn? No one ever chose her. She was always at the back of the queue, and she had no idea why. She wasn't a bad looking woman, was she? And she was a decent person. At least, she thought she was. Her spiritual tutor, Dove, always reassured her that she had a beautiful aura, and she'd been spiritually cleansed so many times there couldn't possibly be an ounce of bad karma left. So why did no one ever want her? Why did her father prefer Scarlet and Honey to her? Why did he claim to see Eden as his daughter? And how could Eliot possibly be attracted to someone like Eden Robinson, anyway?
Was it, she wondered, always going to be like this? Feeling like the odd one out? Like The Little Matchgirl, peering through the window at all those happy families, while she shivered in the cold outside?
No matter how well she talked the talk, she knew she didn't fit in with the rest of the Carmichaels. Her dress was a sale buy from a discount store. Her hair was only wavy because she usually wore it in plaits. No hair stylist for her. She didn't so much as possess any curling tongs. Even her car was hired.
The truth was, unlike her rich rock star father and affluent siblings, Emerald was broke. Not that Cain would ever believe that, even if she could bring herself to tell him, which she never would. He did, after all, pay her a very generous allowance. How was he supposed to know that she gave it all to her mother?
Cassandra may have immersed herself in the role of bestselling author, but the plain fact was, she barely made any money at all from her books. Her settlement from Cain had been frittered away on research trips to far-flung destinations. Flying first class in aeroplanes, travelling in luxury from airport to rented home, then living in squalor in some cheap hut or croft or yurt.
Emerald had little formal schooling, trying her best to fit in at whatever establishment her mother shoved her into — always supposing they planned to stay more than a couple of months. If their stay was shorter, she never made it as far as school, instead spending her days reading whatever book she'd managed to smuggle into her luggage, and cooking and cleaning for her mother.
It was when they'd spent six months in the outskirts of Paris that Emerald had made her first real friend — a free spirit called Dove, who ran a spiritual retreat, Le Colombier, in Provence but was currently visiting her father, who was unwell. She'd seemed to recognise Emerald's loneliness and urged her to study techniques for self-healing and spiritual fulfilment.
Emerald had really taken it to heart and had kept in touch with Dove as best she could,
after Dove returned to her retreat, and Cassandra whisked Emerald off to their next location.
Dove had invited her to stay at Le Colombier many times, but Emerald couldn't afford to travel back to France. It had seemed like an impossible dream, until something happened that meant the matter was taken out of her hands, and she was sent to Provence by her frightened mother and handed over into the loving care of Dove and her staff.
Emerald didn't like to remember that time too much. A nervous breakdown, her mother called it. The doctor said she was suffering from severe stress and needed somewhere to recuperate. He suggested counselling, and Emerald had remembered Dove and asked her mother if it would be possible for her to have the air fares.
It was a measure of how worried her mother was that she had handed back a lump sum from Emerald's allowance, and when Dove emailed her and told her there would be no charge for her to stay at the retreat, the matter was settled.
Emerald had found the weeks she spent at Le Colombier so soothing and so wonderful, she wished she could stay there forever. It wasn't so much the crystal therapies, or the chanting, or the aura reading, or the aligning of chakras that helped. It was being accepted by Dove and her friends. It was feeling that she mattered, that her opinion counted for something. For the first time in her life, Emerald didn't feel invisible. She'd been heartbroken to have to leave and head back to reality.
'Why do you stay with your mother?' Dove had demanded, knowing how unhappy Emerald felt. 'You're in your twenties now. You're not a little girl any more. You could use your allowance from your father to go anywhere, do anything. If your mother can't manage without your income, then she'll just have to get a job.'
Emerald had insisted that she couldn't do that to Cassandra, refusing to acknowledge the deeper truth, even to herself. She could, after all, have given her mother the allowance and headed off somewhere else to make her own way in the world, but the truth was, without Cain's money to back her up, she was afraid that she would have no way of supporting herself. She wasn't educated. She didn't understand how to relate to people. She felt worthless.