Brides of Penhally Bay - Vol 2

by Various Authors

  ‘And my sister’s heart is with you.’ She smiled. ‘And so it should be. I know you’re right for her.’

  ‘You thrive on all this wheeling and dealing, don’t you?’ Melinda asked with a smile.

  Serena grinned. ‘You bet I do. And this wedding is going to be a day the whole of Penhally’s going to remember for a long, long time—with a lot of love and affection.’

  On the Saturday morning, Dragan woke early. It felt odd not to have Melinda curled in bed beside him, but there had been much insistence from both Melinda and Serena on sticking to tradition. According to them, it was bad luck to see the bride on the day until she arrived at the church, so Melinda and Serena had spent the night at Chloe’s house.

  He went over to the window and peered out. It was a perfect spring day, with the sun shining and the sky a rich deep blue.

  His wedding day.

  There was just one shadow in his heart—that his family weren’t there to share the day with him. But Melinda’s words echoed in his head. Your family will be there in spirit.

  ‘I hope so,’ he said softly. ‘Because I miss you so much. But I’ll see you in my children’s faces. And your love still goes on in my heart.’

  He drove Bramble over to Lizzie Chamberlain’s. ‘I think Melinda would’ve liked her at the wedding,’ he confided to Lizzie.

  Lizzie laughed. ‘You can imagine what kind of chaos a flattie would cause at a wedding—they like to be the centre of attention. Don’t you, girl?’ she said, bending down to cuddle Bramble. ‘What you and Melinda did—donating that money—thank you. It’s going to make a real difference to the rescue work,’ she said.

  ‘That’s what we wanted,’ Dragan said simply. ‘We’re part of this community.’

  ‘That you most certainly are,’ Lizzie said feelingly. ‘Have you got time for a cup of tea?’

  ‘Make that coffee, and you’re on,’ Dragan said with a smile. ‘And while I’m here, I can have a chat with your mum about how it’s going with the new drugs and exercise routine.’

  Lizzie tutted. ‘It’s your wedding day. You’re not supposed to be working.’

  ‘You’ll be doing me a favour,’ he said. ‘Keeping me busy so I don’t have time to think or get nervous.’

  Lizzie tapped the side of her nose. ‘Got you.’

  Meanwhile, at Chloe’s house, the wedding preparations were going ahead at full steam. Vicky had come over to do the bride’s and bridesmaids’ hair and make-up. At first she’d been a little overawed by the thought of being official hairdresser and beautician to two of the Contarini royal family, but as soon as she’d met Serena she was back to being her normal chatterbox self.

  ‘Doorbell!’ Lauren yelled. ‘Want me to get it, Chloe?’

  Chloe, who was busy making yet another round of tea, put her head round the door. ‘Isn’t a bit early for the flowers?’

  ‘You stay put,’ Serena warned Melinda. ‘Vicky, stick pins in her if she moves. And if that’s Dragan I’ll shut the door so they don’t see each other.’

  Lauren walked back into the living room a few minutes later, carrying a single red rose. ‘Not Dragan. But I’d guess this is from him,’ she said, handing the rose to Melinda.

  Melinda opened the card and read the message. Six hours until you make my life complete.

  ‘Oh-h-h,’ she breathed.

  Serena grabbed the card and read it. ‘Don’t cry. You’ll smudge the make-up.’

  ‘It’s waterproof,’ Vicky chipped in.

  ‘Don’t give her the excuse.’ Serena shook her head impatiently. ‘And, Lini, I can read your face like a book. You can’t go and see him. It’s bad luck.’

  ‘To see him, yes.’ Melinda grabbed her mobile phone. ‘It doesn’t mean I can’t talk to him.’

  ‘It’s bad luck,’ Serena insisted.

  Melinda sighed and put the phone away.

  But when a second rose arrived an hour later—and another one an hour after that—Melinda grabbed her phone again. ‘I need to talk to him.’ When Serena was about to protest, she said softly, ‘I have my friends and family around me. Dragan’s on his own, once he’s taken Bramble over to Lizzie’s.’

  Serena sighed. All right. ‘Leave this to me.’

  A few minutes later, Dragan opened the door and his eyes widened in surprise when he saw Serena there. ‘Is Melinda all right?’

  ‘Yes, but I have a message from her.’

  He went cold. ‘You’d better come in.’ He closed the door behind her. Please, don’t let this all go wrong now. He could barely force the question out. ‘She’s changed her mind?’

  ‘Idiota! Of course she hasn’t. But it’s bad luck for the bride and groom to see each other before church, and…’ Serena flapped an impatient hand. ‘She says she loves you and she loves the red roses—and she’s counting the minutes until she’s your bride.’ She gave him a hug. ‘That was such a romantic thing to do.’

  ‘There should be two more. We’re on a countdown,’ Dragan said.

  ‘That’s so sweet.’ She paused. ‘And, actually, there was something I wanted to say, too. When you marry Melinda, she’ll be your family—but so will I. And Mamma and Papà. My father really likes you, you know.’

  The lump in his throat was so big he couldn’t say a word. He just hugged her right back.

  ‘I’ll see you in church,’ she said. ‘And just so you don’t worry, Melinda will be precisely three minutes late.’ She smiled. ‘It’s tradition. If she had her way, she’d be three minutes early!’

  And finally everything was ready. The flowers had arrived, along with one last rose from Dragan. Everyone’s hair and make-up was pristine, and Vicky had gone to get changed for church.

  And then the doorbell went.

  Serena glanced at her watch. ‘That must be Mamma and Papà, with the cars. Ready?’

  ‘Ready,’ Melinda said softly.

  Chloe answered the door and did as much of a curtsey as she could in her bridesmaid’s dress. ‘Your Majesty.’

  ‘You must be…Chloe? Lauren?’ Viviana asked.

  ‘Chloe.’

  ‘Serena has told me what a good friend you are to my daughter. Grazie, tesoro.’

  ‘Um, my pleasure,’ Chloe said, looking slightly awestruck.

  Viviana swept in. ‘And you are Lauren, yes?’

  ‘Yes, Your Majesty.’ Lauren also curtseyed, and nearly tripped.

  Viviana took her arm for support. ‘No more curtseys.’ She surveyed the four women. ‘You look lovely.’ She came to stand in front of Melinda. ‘And you…mia bambina. Che bellissima,’ she said softly.

  ‘Stop it, Mamma. You’ll make her cry and spoil her makeup. Hormones,’ Serena reminded her swiftly. ‘And that goes for you too, Papà—you only say things to make Melinda smile. Now, we must all go to the church and wait for Melinda just inside the lych-gate.’

  ‘Bossy,’ Alessandro grumbled, but he was smiling.

  When the girls had left, he took Melinda’s hand. ‘You look beautiful, Melinda,’ he said, ‘and I am very proud of you. You are a true royal because you always stand up for what you believe in—and your Dragan is a good man. I am proud to give you away to him, and to know he will treat you as the heart of his heart.’ And then he looked worried. ‘Please, no tears. Serena is scarier than your mother.’

  She didn’t think he meant it—not quite—but it made her smile.

  ‘Shall we go?’ he asked.

  She locked the door behind her and gave the key to her father for safekeeping and transfer back to Chloe during the reception. He helped her into the vintage Rolls-Royce convertible outside, and they slowly made their way to the church. People seemed to be lined up all the way along Harbour Road, throwing flowers and confetti.

  Alessandro raised an eyebrow. ‘Weren’t you and Serena banning confetti?’

  ‘This is biodegradable,’ Melinda explained with a smile. ‘And we’ve said we want the bird-seed type in the church grounds.’

  Alessandro laughed. �
�You’ve thought of everything.’

  He helped her out of the car when they reached the church and ushered her through the lych-gate. Serena, Chloe and Lauren were all there, holding their bouquets.

  Just before Alessandro gave Melinda her bouquet, Viviana hugged her. ‘I wish you so much happiness, figlia mia,’ she said.

  ‘Grazie.’ Melinda could hardly speak for the threatening tears.

  ‘Mamma! Church, now,’ Serena ordered. ‘Go and give Reverend Kenner the nod that we are ready.’

  Viviana gave her younger daughter a speaking look, but did as requested.

  ‘Deep breath. And smile,’ Serena directed. ‘You’re going to marry the man you love.’

  And then Melinda walked through the church door on her father’s arm, with her bridesmaids behind her, to the strains of ‘Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring’.

  She glanced around quickly. The church was absolutely packed—standing room only. And she knew absolutely everyone there. They’d all come to wish her and Dragan luck and love and happiness.

  As she passed the front pews, she saw her mother, her Uncle Benito and a space for her father—and behind them she recognised more aunts and uncles and cousins. The entire royal family of Contarini had turned out—how on earth had Serena done this without her so much as guessing? And there were all the friends she and Dragan shared from Penhally.

  And then Dragan turned and smiled at her, his dark eyes full of love—and nothing else mattered.

  The music stopped, and then Reverend Kenner was smiling at them both. ‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…’

  NURSE BRIDE,

  BAYSIDE

  WEDDING

  BY GILL SANDERSON

  Gill Sanderson, aka Roger Sanderson, started writing as a husband-and-wife team. At first Gill created the storyline, characters and background, asking Roger to help with the actual writing. But her job became more and more time-consuming, and he took over all of the work. He loves it!

  Roger has written many Medical™ Romance books for Harlequin Mills & Boon. Ideas come from three of his children—Helen is a midwife, Adam a health visitor, Mark a consultant oncologist. Weekdays are for work; weekends find Roger walking in the Lake District or Wales.

  Recent titles by the same author:

  THEIR MIRACLE CHILD

  A BABY OF THEIR OWN

  THE DOCTOR’S BABY SURPRISE

  A SURGEON, A MIDWIFE: A FAMILY

  CHAPTER ONE

  ‘WILL you marry me, Maddy? We’ll live in my big white house on the hill and have strawberries for breakfast every morning.’

  Nurse Madeleine Granger smiled. ‘Sounds a good idea, especially the strawberries. I’d love to marry you, Mr Bryce, but people might say I was after your money.’

  ‘It’s my money, I can do what I want with it. And I’d do anything to stop the Chancellor of the Exchequer getting it all. Ow!’

  ‘I’m sorry. I know it hurts, but…’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. My fault for tripping up the stairs and scratching my leg.’

  ‘This was more than a scratch. I’ve been treating it for ten days now—and it’s only just starting to heal.’ Maddy dusted antiseptic powder over the ulcerated shin, then reached for a dressing. Sometimes old people’s wounds took a long time to heal, especially when there was little flesh between skin and bone. And Malcolm Bryce was an eighty-five-year-old widower. But he was alert, sprightly and had made more new friends than anyone else on the ship.

  ‘So you won’t marry me? I’m going to be terribly disappointed.’ She loved the mischievous sparkle in his eyes when he teased her.

  ‘I’d certainly marry you if I wanted to marry anyone. But I don’t. For me marriage is out. O-U-T.’

  There was a keenness in his faded eyes. ‘You seem very certain of that.’

  ‘I am.’ Her reply was gentle, but firm.

  ‘Ah, well. Rebuffed again. But I will be strong. So what should I do with the Bryce millions?’

  ‘Spend them. Come for another cruise to the Indian Ocean on the good ship Emerald.’

  ‘Well, I have enjoyed it. Didn’t you say it was your first trip as a cruise-ship nurse? Have you enjoyed it?’

  Maddy smiled. ‘It’s a lot more luxurious than the hospital A and E department I came from. Yes, I have enjoyed it, I’ve made a lot of new friends. Now, for the past few days you’ve come to the medical centre for treatment. But today you phoned and asked me to come to your cabin. Any special reason why?’

  In fact, she had noticed that he didn’t look his usual healthy self. He was still lying in his bed, unknown for him at this time of day. He was pale, there were beads of sweat on his forehead. Although he tried to keep up their normal cheerful chatter, his voice was noticeably weaker.

  ‘I feel a bit feeble,’ he said. ‘When I woke up this morning my left arm was numb and tingly. Then I went back to sleep again and I never do that.’

  ‘Did you have palpitations? Could you feel your heart beating harder than usual?’

  Mr Bryce considered. ‘Sort of,’ he said. ‘It seemed queer—irregular. But I still went back to sleep.’

  Maddy tried not to show the concern she was feeling. ‘You’re probably a bit excited at the prospect of getting back home,’ she said. ‘It affects some people that way. Still, I’ll check your blood pressure and listen to your heart.’

  His BP was too high and his heartbeat seemed unsteady. Well, he was a man of eighty-five but…‘I think you’d better stay in bed today,’ she said. ‘In fact, you might as well stay in bed till we dock. Then I’ll get a doctor to come and look at you. I’ll get a steward to fetch you your meals—nothing heavy and no alcohol. And I think I’ll prescribe aspirin as well.’

  Mr Bryce nodded. ‘I’ve had a minor stroke, haven’t I, Maddy? A transient ischaemic attack.’

  ‘What do you know about transient ischaemic attacks?’ Maddy was shocked at the way he guessed what she was thinking.

  ‘A temporary reduction of blood and oxygen to the brain, probably caused by a minor blood clot. My wife had several of them before she died and I got to recognise the symptoms. But mostly, Maddy, I’m upset because you won’t marry me.’ The smile was still there but the voice was getting weaker.

  ‘Perhaps I’ll think about it,’ she said gently. ‘Now, rest. The steward will come to see to you and I’ll drop in again later.’

  ‘Looking forward to that,’ said Mr Bryce.

  Maddy’s next call was two decks further up. Another phone call asking for a cabin visit. It was unusual as most people much preferred to come to the medical centre. Maddy’s suspicions were growing. She knocked, and a weak voice asked her to come in.

  Entering the cabin, the smell was unmistakable, and a glance at the white-faced patient confirmed that Mrs Adams was feeling very unwell indeed. Maddy’s heart sank as she realised what she could be dealing with. This wasn’t the first stomach upset she’d treated in the last twenty-four hours. ‘How are you feeling, Mrs Adams?’

  ‘Nurse, I feel like I’m dying. I’ve been sick and I…I don’t think I can get out of bed.’

  ‘Well, let’s take your temperature for a start. And we’ll check your pulse and BP. When did you start to feel ill?’

  ‘It happened so suddenly! I didn’t much feel like my meal last night. I thought I’d be better in the morning, but in the middle of the night I…’ And Mrs Adams was sick again.

  Reassuring the poor woman, who kept apologising weakly, Maddy cleaned her up and made her as comfortable as possible. ‘There you go, Mrs Adams, and you’re to stay in bed all day. Whatever you do, don’t leave your cabin. Don’t try to eat anything, but if you can, drink plenty. I’ve got some special stuff here. No tap water and especially nothing sweet. And take these pills now. I’ll put a couple of bottles near you. And I’ll be in to see you later.’

  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever felt as bad as this in my life,’ Mrs Adams whispered.

  ‘We’ll do what we can to get you better. Now,
just rest.’ Maddy wondered if she looked as confident as she sounded.

  She walked back to the medical centre, washed her hands again, made herself a coffee and sat down to think. Late last night it had been just a vague suspicion, but now it was turning into a certainty. This was going to be trouble. And it could be big trouble.

  There had been plenty to occupy her during the cruise. Many of the passengers were quite elderly and had the usual ailments that come with age. But mostly it had been small stuff. The medical staff had coped easily.

  And until yesterday morning she had been just one member of a medical team—the least important member. There had been a doctor on board, and another nurse. But a launch had met them as they’d approached the British coast, taking off the doctor and the other nurse. There had been an illness, and the doctor and nurse were needed urgently on a cruise ship about to depart. And since the Emerald was practically in British coastal waters, due to dock in two days, it had been decided that one nurse would be sufficient.

  She now thought that was doubtful.

  Last night there had been two complaints about upset stomachs. This morning she had treated another person—and it looked like there would be more. In an enclosed environment like a cruise ship, illness could spread like wildfire.

  She winced. She thought that these were cases of acute gastroenteritis, sometimes known as cruise ship fever.

  It was important that the captain be informed at once—he had to make the big decisions. But to a certain extent he’d have to rely on her medical advice. She knew he’d be fair—but he wouldn’t be happy.

  Especially when she told him that the port authorities might not let them dock.

  She picked up her phone and told Ken Jackson, the captain’s steward, that she needed to see the captain urgently.

  ‘Urgently?’ Ken asked. ‘He is pretty busy now, arranging docking, and—’

  ‘Ken, I said urgently and I meant it.’

  He caught her tone. ‘I’ll ring you back,’ he said.

  She sat down to wait, to get her thoughts in order. Captain Smith would want precision. She’d give it to him.