by Susan Meier
Down to three days, Merry began to panic. But fate unexpectedly came to her rescue. The rumor had gotten out to the public that there was to be a ball at La Torchere and all guests were invited. Thursday afternoon, a plane-load of walk-in reservations arrived and the number of female guests was double what Merry had expected.
Every woman had thoughts of being Cinderella and finding a prince, and as quickly as the women arrived, the rumor began to spread that a real prince was attending the ball. Just in case, Merry scoured the guest list and when she didn't find a prince, she assumed the buzz was wishful thinking. Nonetheless, she couldn't seem to stop the persistent rumor, and suddenly no one wanted to meet the resort's owner. Everybody wanted to meet the prince. Everybody wanted a shot at being Cinderella. At the boutique, sales of clear acrylic slippers soared.
With her time passing, Merry suddenly realized she had failed. Every time she introduced Alexander to a woman, she walked away disinterested. And every time Alexander scowled and walked away. Merry felt success slipping away. Before she knew it, it was Saturday morning and she had only twelve hours left. Looking at her clock in disbelief, she knew that unless it was love at first sight for Alexander, she would not get her twenty-first match from him. In fact, twelve hours was probably too late to make a twenty-first match of any two people at the resort.
The thought seemed to trigger something inside her. Her joints stiffened even more, and when she passed a mirror in the hotel lobby she saw that her nose had grown to twice its size. Her neck had acquired two folds.
Holding back a gasp, she ran to her office. She'd prepared for this by keeping a long-sleeved pantsuit and big hat in her private bathroom. With no thought but to cover the changes in her appearance, she put on the new outfit. But when she looked at herself in the mirror, it was clear that even with the shading from the hat, she would not be mistaken for Princess Meredith ever again. The crone transformation was complete.
She was Merry Montrose.
She stared at herself in shock and disbelief. Never once had she believed, not even once in seven years, that she would fail. But she was twelve hours away from her birthday, eight hours away from the ball, and she wasn't going to make the match.
This, looking like a crone, talking like a crone, being fatherless, friendless, alone, was her life for the rest of her life. Worse, she now had to live in the same resort as Alexander, see his misery and realize she had failed him. She was the one who could have broken his curse by breaking her own, but she'd failed her assignment.
The ringing of her phone jarred her out of her thoughts. She grabbed the receiver. "Hello."
"I need you in my office."
Hearing Alexander's voice made Merry's entire body shake. She'd failed them both and she would spend her life helpless to do anything but watch their suffering and know she was the cause.
She swallowed hard.
"Merry, did you hear me?"
"I heard you, but I can't come right now. Actually," she said, thinking quickly and coming up with a very logical explanation, "I'm on my way to the airport to pick up my aunt. Merry Montrose is coming back."
"What?"
"I knew you'd be thrilled," she said, just barely holdback her tears. "And I have to go or I'll be late."
With that she dropped the receiver into its cradle and grabbed her purse. She had no intention of pretending to drive to the airport and no intention of saying goodbye to the staff. She couldn't say goodbye. Princess Merry no longer existed. If she tried to say goodbye, she would only confuse people.
Instead, she headed for the docks and took one of the boats. She'd failed in her mission and she'd hurt a lot of people. If nothing else, she wanted the one small indulgence of an afternoon of tears.
Because when she returned to La Torchere, she would be all-business Merry Montrose.
Alexander stormed to Merry's office, hoping to catch her before she left, but she wasn't there. Frustrated because the damned woman never listened to a word he said, he stormed out again and almost ran over Lissa.
"Where are you going?"
He drew a quick breath. "To find Merry. I just got word today that there's royalty at the resort and he's corning to the ball. That doesn't merely mean an entourage. It means special arrangements to give the man his due. There's no way Merry will be prepared if I don't find her right now. It's a mess."
Lissa wrung her hands. "It's a bigger mess than you think."
"Great," he said, running his palm along the back of his neck. "What else is wrong?"
"Merry…" Lissa began, but she stopped and gave him a curious look. "You're very stressed."
"I'm just tired."
"And it's only hours until your ball." She paused, obviously thinking. "You know, if I were you I think I'd take the afternoon off."
"I can't. I…"
Lissa smiled. "You need to be relaxed for your ball tonight. You should go sailing."
The thought of a sail suddenly pleased Alexander enormously. If Merry didn't want to take two minutes to hear that he'd just discovered her father was at the resort, then he would let her be surprised. Oh, sure, she'd be pleased to see her dad. But what wouldn't please her was that her dad had brought a complement of people…all of whom would be going to the ball. She would be fifty seats short tonight and, for once, he didn't give a damn.
"I think I will go sailing."
Alexander sailed to the three uninhabited islands off the coast of La Torchere. The first island was set up with private sporting facilities. Volleyball in the sand. Open spaces for Frisbee. Private sunbathing. It was a way for people involved in newly developing relationships to get real privacy. To ensure that privacy, time on the island had to be booked.
Not knowing if the island was booked, he passed it. He also passed "Island, too," as the resort employees affectionately called it. That island was equipped with hammocks, a shaded dining area and a lover's bungalow. In his foul mood, he didn't want to inadvertently see any lovers right now and he most certainly didn't want to "surprise" anyone in a compromising position. Instead he sailed to the third island, the island they hadn't developed in any way, shape or form and on which they'd posted hundreds of No Trespassing signs to discourage anyone from wandering over. There he knew he'd find complete peace and privacy.
After three hours of sitting in the sand, Merry still wasn't cried out. She couldn't shake her sadness or despair, not even by telling herself that life as Merry Montrose could have meaning and purpose. Nothing helped because she hadn't merely ruined her own life. She had ruined Alexander's life. Her father had lost his only daughter. And by failing to make her twenty-first match, she'd put Lissa in a position of knowing she'd doomed her own godchild.
Her failure had ruined many lives and she had to live with that knowledge forever.
Merry pulled herself up from her sand mound and slipped into her shoes. She had to go back. She had a ball to oversee. Tears filled her eyes and she didn't try to stop them. She dropped her big floppy hat onto her head and decided that she would cry during the twenty-minute ride back to La Torchere, then she'd stop. She would never cry again.
With one last longing glance at the beautiful ocean, she turned to leave and found herself face-to-face with Alexander. Dressed in cut-off denim shorts and no shirt, he'd apparently taken the afternoon off.
"I didn't hear a boat."
"I sailed," he said, but he was staring at her. "What in the hell happened to you?"
"You know who I am?"
"How could I not know who you are?"
"Because my own father doesn't recognize me."
He stared at her for a few seconds, then comprehension dawned, "This is your curse…"
She nodded, "Yes, like I said I had to make twenty-one matches and I failed, But there's more A few things you haven't quite grasped from our conversations. I've really been here for five years." She paused and drew in a long drink of air. "Because I'm Merry Montrose."
As if unable to believe what he was seeing, A
lexander fell to the sand mound. "I need to sit."
"The curse is real."
He only stared at her and Merry decided to show him enough that he couldn't argue anymore. She took off her hat, revealing wiry gray hair, her wrinkled face and a nose the size of a small state.
"My God. Merry!"
"I didn't make my twenty-first love match. I failed, so I'll be Merry Montrose forever. You don't need to worry about looking for a new resort manager." She spread her hands helplessly. "I'm all yours."
Alexander let loose with a stream of profanity that would have melted ice and finished by saying, "This is ridiculous."
She shook her head. "No. It's a curse."
"You're going to look like this forever?"
"And live without love. I know I told you this before, but I was a very spoiled princess. My godmother thought she was doing the right thing by forcing me to change. I learned my lessons and nearly broke the curse, but that one couple…"
"The Phipps-Stovers who are divorcing?"
She nodded. "They separated and the curse returned. I tried everything in my power to get another couple together, but I just couldn't seem to do it." She paused and caught his gaze. "That means this is my fate."
"This can't be your fate," he snapped, so angry he couldn't believe he could feel such intense emotion. "Curses are antiquated and wrong!"
"They're a normal part of the system where I live."
"Then I curse where you live!"
She ran to him and caught his hands, pulling him up from the sand mound. "Oh, Alexander, don't! Almost a million people live in my father's country! Don't curse them."
Frustration and anger balled in his stomach, but when he looked at Merry, at the pleading in her eyes, not for herself, but for her people, he knew she thought more of them than of herself. He also knew—had known all along—that she believed in this magic and seeing the proof standing before him, he had to admit he believed, too.
"There has to be a way around this."
"Yes, you could go to that ball tonight and let me try to match you to every woman there until you find a woman you love."
"You want me to fall in love in under four hours?"
"I've seen it happen."
He cursed. "No one can fall in love that fast, but I'm an even worse case than that. My God, Merry, we both know I don't believe in love!"
She squeezed his hands. "Oh, Alexander, don't worry about it. I can handle being Merry Montrose. Working at the resort actually gives my life meaning."
"So you're okay with this?"
She laughed slightly. "No! But I can force myself to be okay with it. What I can't handle is that I've hurt so many people and that I'll live my life not knowing my father or being able to visit my country. I'll never be more than friends with anyone. I will never be close to anyone. Not a man or a woman. I'll be with people, but alone."
He touched her face as if needing to feel the differences in her physical appearance for himself. "I won't let this happen."
She touched his face, as if for the last time, and smiled sadly. "You have no say in the matter."
"Of course I do. Merry, I'm rich beyond what you can imagine. I can do anything I want, change anything I want. There has to be a way around this."
"There is no way."
He studied her for a few seconds, processing everything she had told him, and finally, he said, "You said you won't have friends as a crone, but you can talk to me."
She shook her head. "God knows why and God knows for how long."
"Then marry me."
Merry looked up sharply. "Marry you?"
"Yes, it's the way around the curse. You might stay a crone, but you can talk to me. I can be close to you. I can be your friend. This can be the way you have a life."
Merry stared at him. "You don't know what you're saying."
"Yes. I do!"
"You're only saying this right now because you think you've found the way around the curse, but you haven't. Lots of parts of the curse haven't fully kicked in yet. This time tomorrow, I may not be able to talk to you about anything but work. Heck, I might not even remember you… Or you may not remember our plan. You could wake up tomorrow morning married to a crone and not know why." She turned and walked away from him. "I won't let you do this."
He caught her arm and turned her around. "It seems to me you have no choice."
"I have plenty of choices. And my choice is not to drag another person down with me. I will not marry you. I will not curse you."
With that she turned and ran away. Alexander started after her but he tripped and fell. Every time he tried to rise, his foot caught on something and he was dragged down again, until Merry was far enough ahead of him that with her motor-powered boat it was clear that he'd never catch her.
He cursed roundly, then fell to the sand in misery. All along he'd considered his duties to his country in his marriage to Merry, but he never considered he also had a duty toward her until right now. But he couldn't discount the obvious. Her magic, whatever ability allowed her country to suspend the laws of nature, had prevented him from catching her, and it might be because of what Merry said. This time tomorrow he might not know her, he might not know their plan, he might have forgotten all about her curse.
If her country's magic could turn a beautiful woman into a crone, then it was possible it could cause him to forget everything he now knew and he would be in an awful situation in the morning.
He could handle it. Somehow he knew he would handle the embarrassment or fear or whatever might come over him when he saw he was engaged to a crone.
But what about her? Was it fair to risk her feelings? She'd been hurt so much that if he argued her into agreeing with his plan and then he left her in the morning, with no thought for her feelings, would is be the final straw?
Would that be the memory she'd have forever? The memory of the man she trusted walking away?
He couldn't do it. He had to let her live out her destiny alone.
Chapter Eleven
Alexander angrily dressed for the ball. All along his plan had been to wear his royal court attire, to reveal himself to Princess Meredith, but now that was pointless. Worse, revealing himself would do nothing but hurt the princess. He could not have her see that he was her betrothed, that the man she thought she loved was actually the man to whom she was promised, and realize everything she wanted had been at her fingertips. He might not have loved her, but she loved him and they would have been married, except for her curse. He couldn't deal the final, painful blow by letting her know who he was. It would be cruel.
He put on a tux and then sat on the Queen Anne chair by the French doors of his bedroom, steeped in misery and so angry he didn't know how to control himself. Eight o'clock became nine and nine began to inch toward ten. Yet, he couldn't seem to force himself to leave. When he realized how much time had passed with him sitting in a chair, he considered that her curse was again holding him back, preventing him from a possible love-at-first-sight encounter that might save her, but he soon admitted to himself that, the truth was much simpler.
He didn't want to face her.
He didn't want to see her.
He didn't want to think about the fact that if he'd just once stopped to use some of his charm on any of the women to whom she'd tried to introduce him, he could have saved her from this fate.
That was what really bothered him. He could have saved her from this fate but he hadn't wanted to get involved with anyone. Nor because lie was betrothed to her and as loyal to her as she apparently was to him. but because he didn't want to risk his hear!. There would never be a love-at-first-sight encounter for him. He refused to fall in love. Even after it was clear Merry's curse broke their betrothal, and he could indeed marry someone else, he wouldn't even try to fall in love. Not even to save her. He couldn't gamble with the pain.
It had been the story of his adult life. Princess Meredith hurt him, so he refused to get hurt again. And in refusing to get hurt,
he had destroyed her. The bitter truth was, the curse was no longer to blame. In the final analysis of what went wrong, he was responsible.
It was just before ten when he rose from his chair, left his villa and walked to the lobby. He turned down the corridor that led to the back entrance of the ballroom where he could enter quietly, privately. He'd missed dinner. He'd missed the opportunity for a toast or words of any kind. He'd missed dancing with the women who were at the bail looking for a prince. He didn't feel much like a prince tonight.
Lissa awaited him when he reached the entrance to the ballroom. "Merry told me you asked her to marry you."
"Yes, I did."
The doors to the ballroom opened and a frazzled member of the waitstaff scrambled into the hall and to the door of the kitchen, apparently on a mission, in the few seconds of clear vision into the ballroom, Alexander saw Merry. Dressed in a pretty apricot-colored gown that would have brought out the beauty of her auburn hair and caressed every curve of her princess body, she looked almost silly wearing is as an aging crone. She also gave orders the way she had as Merry Montrose, quickly, efficiently, all business, and he wondered if she would even remember who he was.
"She's almost fully a crone now."
Alexander peered down at Lissa. "I know, I also know it's you who cursed her."
"It was the only thing I could do. Believe it or not her life as Merry Montrose will be better than the life she would have had as a spoiled princess." She paused and caught his gaze. "I also saved you from a disastrous marriage."
"You can see the future now?"
"Sometimes. And I saw your marriage. You would not have liked your future."
"So you sacrificed her future for mine."
"Yes."
"Well, if that was supposed to make me feel better, forget it."
"You have to trust me."
The door swung open again and Alexander watched Princess Meredith scurry about, bent over, physically miserable. "Trust you? Right. All I have to do is look at Merry to know how trustworthy you are."