The heavy silk of Daisy’s cream embroidered dress rustled as she strolled out of the shade of the snowy white canopy and looked out across the azure water in the bay to the dark green peaks of the Piton volcanoes that made St Lucia one of the most beautiful islands in the West Indies. A steel drum orchestra was already playing under the shade of the palm trees that lined the sandy beach, filling the air with bright, happy music which blended with the laughter from the wedding guests who were making their way out of the Treveleyn Estate Hotel, where the reception was going to be held.
The Flynn-Treveleyn wedding was going to be the hotel’s first beach wedding—which was only fitting, since the hotel was still being constructed around Max’s old plantation house.
A lump the size of a pineapple formed in Daisy’s throat.
She had come a long way from that baker’s shop in a small country town in rural England to stand here today, surrounded by views so dazzling that even after seven months on the island she was still stunned on a daily basis that she was able to make her home in this lovely place, and with people who had taken her to their hearts.
She wished that her parents were here today to share her happiness—they would have loved it here so much. Loved Max and Freya and her new friends. Loved the life that she was making for herself because of all that they had given her.
The sound of a powerful boat engine drew her attention back to the ocean and the sun-bleached white jetty, and Daisy’s breath caught in her throat as Max pulled a beautiful speedboat dressed in white ribbons to a gentle halt.
Next to him on the soft leather seat were Kate and her fiancé, Anton, who had sailed their yacht into the nearby harbour four days ago as part of their very special wedding present. Daisy and Max were going to spend a week sailing the islands on the luxury yacht, while Kate and Anton roughed it with Freya in one of the new eco-cabins the hotel chain had built on the plantation estate.
If you could call a three-bedroom, solar-powered cabin built from local timber with every possible luxury roughing it. Especially when it came with catering by Tara, and a hot tub overlooking the ocean and mountains fed by spring water.
A great hurrah sounded from under the trees, and the steel band moved into their liveliest musical number.
Daisy sighed out loud as Max stepped onto the jetty and flashed a grin as wide as the ocean in her direction. He looked so happy that every second of work over the past months to create a hotel from his home seemed worth it a thousand times over.
Max.
The last few hours had passed in such a blur of working with Tara and the wonderful ladies from the estate to finalise the reception meal that Tara had had to physically turn Daisy in the direction of the shower and her wedding clothes with only an hour to go.
And poor Max had barely had time to grab his suit bag before he had been carried off by speedboat to change on the yacht.
And now here they were.
The famous chocolate cake, which had become the speciality dessert of the hotel chain following the shock win of Team Treveleyn at the hotel in Cornwall, had been finished in the nick of time. It looked terrific, and most of the children had been scrubbed fairly chocolate-free. For the moment at least.
Tara came jogging along the beach towards her, her fingers holding tightly onto Freya, who had not been swimming in her silk bridesmaid dress after all but had somehow managed to lose her flowers. Tara grinned and gave her a nod—they were ready.
This was it.
Daisy plucked a red hibiscus blossom from the shrubbery next to the hotel and popped it behind Freya’s ear, making her giggle with pleasure.
With one final glance to Tara, who had shared her spray of orchids with Freya, Daisy took a deep breath and stepped forward onto the sun-warmed, coral-tinged sand. The opening bars of the ‘Wedding March’ beaten out on steel drums drifted out seawards from behind her, but she only had eyes for one person.
The Greek-god-handsome man standing under an arch of plaited vines, hibiscus and orchids which stood on the edge of the water. Waiting to say his vows—waiting for her to agree to become his wife.
She barely noticed the friends and family, new and old, who had turned up en masse with smiling faces to share her happiness in the January sunshine.
This was her church. Her stained glass was the colour of the sky and the myriad shades of green from the tropical forests reflected back from the mirror-like ocean. The sweet perfume of the flowers from her headdress and bouquet filled her head with dreamy perfection at every step.
Max was wearing a white suit and white shirt, and looked so handsome as he grinned at her that it took her breath away.
Her every step across the sand, feeling the grains between her toes, was taking her closer to this remarkable man that she loved.
Of all the people in this world he had chosen her to spend his life with.
This man loved her.
He had given her a new home and a new family.
He was where her heart was.
In those strong arms she knew she’d found a love for the rest of her life.
It was amazing what you could achieve with a few chocolate boobs.
All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.
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First published in Great Britain 2012
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited.
Harlequin (UK) Limited, Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR
© Nina Harrington 2012
ISBN: 978-1-408-97272-4
When Chocolate Is Not Enough... Page 16
