And the Bride Wore Prada (28 page)

The small family chapel was filled to bursting as Gemma, glowing with happiness in her Prada wedding gown, came down the aisle on her beaming father’s arm to take her place beside Dominic.

‘Do you, Rupert Locksley, take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife?’ the vicar asked as he eyed the rock star solemnly.

Dominic met Gemma’s eyes. ‘Yes, I bloody well do,’ he declared.

A ripple of laughter followed his words.

‘Do you, Gemma, take this man to be your lawful wedded husband?’

‘I do.’

Mrs Astley sniffled loudly; Lady Locksley leant forward, patted her hand, and handed over a tissue.

‘With the power vested in me, I hereby pronounce you man and wife.’ He turned to Dominic. ‘You may kiss the bride.’

As their friends and family looked on, faces wreathed in expectant smiles, Dominic lifted Gemma’s veil and kissed her, tenderly and thoroughly.

‘I love you, babes,’ he murmured when he lifted his lips from hers. ‘For keeps.’

‘I love you, too, Dom,’ she answered, her mouth still tingling from his kiss.

He took her hand and lifted it up with his as they turned together to face the crowded chapel pews. ‘All right, then, you lot – let’s go and get this wedding party started!’

As the exuberant strains of Mendelssohn’s ‘Wedding March’ wheezed out on the organ, played with more enthusiasm than skill by one of the village parishioners, Dominic and Gemma returned down the aisle and out the doors, and led their guests to the castle to celebrate their brand-new union with refreshments and dancing.

And plenty of Draemar whisky...

Chapter 51

Caitlin, relieved that she’d made it down the aisle in her bridesmaid gown with no mishaps, followed behind Tarquin and Wren as they made their way back to the castle.

‘…lovely wedding,’ Wren was saying. ‘Gemma looked radiant – and so beautiful. Like the Snow Queen.’

‘Yes. Quite a change from the Wicked Witch she turned into before the wedding,’ Caitlin observed.

‘Dominic will have his hands full,’ Tarquin agreed, and smiled. ‘They’re well matched, though. I hope they’ll be very happy.’

‘I’m sure they will.’

Lost in her thoughts, and awash with melancholy that Niall wasn’t with her, Caitlin lagged behind.

Would the two of them ever stand before God and pledge themselves to one another in front of their friends and family? Or was she forever destined to be the ‘other woman,’ just a short-lived episode in Niall’s life?

She didn’t know. And the uncertainty was killing her.

Who is he with right now
? she wondered. Had Miriam invited him to come in when he dropped off their presents, had she asked him to stay? Did she offer him a glass of whisky? Would they talk and drink, and make amends – only to fall into bed together and vow to try again, leaving her out in the cold with a baby to raise?

Caitlin’s throat thickened, and she blinked back the threat of tears, so real was the image in her mind.
I won’t cry
, she told herself fiercely,
I bloody well won’t
.

It was then that she saw a low-slung green Jaguar glide to a stop along the drive. Hope rose within her. Could it be? Was it?

‘
Niall
!’ she cried out as he emerged from the car, and she flung herself, laughing and crying, at him. ‘You came!’

‘Of course I did,’ he breathed into her hair as he held her tightly against him. ‘I couldn’t bear to be without you for another minute.’

‘You must have left ages ago,’ Caitlin exclaimed as she drew back to look at him.

‘I dropped the presents off last night and drove straight here, so I’d arrive in time to see you in the wedding.’ He eyed the people streaming out of the chapel. ‘Apparently, I didn’t leave early enough,’ he added, his words rueful.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Caitlin said, and squeezed his arm. ‘You’re here now.’

As they entered the castle, arms linked, Lady Campbell spotted them, froze, then strode over, her long taffeta tartan skirts swishing. She came to a stop and fixed Niall with a gimlet eye. ‘Mr MacDougal, I presume?’

‘Yes. Lady Campbell?’ He held out his hand. ‘I’m so very pleased to meet you.’

She ignored his hand. ‘Let’s dispense with the niceties for the moment, shall we? Why are you here?’ she demanded. ‘Shouldn’t you be at home, celebrating Christmas with your wife and son?’

Caitlin gasped. ‘Grandmama!’

Niall laid a quelling hand on her arm. ‘No, it’s all right, darling. It’s a fair question.’ He turned to Lady Campbell. ‘I’m in the process of divorcing my wife, and I have every intention of marrying Caitlin the moment the decree comes through.’

‘Do you indeed?’ Scepticism was plain on her face.

He met the older woman’s eyes. ‘I love your granddaughter, Lady Campbell, and I plan to spend the rest of my life proving it to her ‒ and to you and the rest of her family, for as long as necessary.’

She sniffed. ‘Pretty words. Well – we shall see. In the meantime,’ she raked an accessing gaze over Niall, ‘you might as well come along inside and join the reception.’

Niall and Caitlin had barely departed to get themselves some much-needed food and drink when Penelope and Archie bore down on Lady Campbell, their faces like thunder.

‘You let him in!’ Archie hissed, outraged. ‘The cheating sod! Whatever were you thinking, Mother?’

‘I was thinking that we’ll all have to get along with him eventually,’ she returned, ever practical. ‘I believe he intends to do right by my granddaughter. I’m willing to give him a fair chance – just the one ‒ and I suggest for your daughter’s sake that you both do the same,’ she added, and wandered off to resume mingling with the guests.

Rhys sought out Natalie and finally found her in the entrance hall, talking with Wren and Tarquin at the foot of the stairs. ‘I’m just going in to get a drink. Can I get you anything?’

Natalie shook her head. ‘I’m good. Thanks, darling.’

He left them and went off towards the ballroom in search of a whisky. As he came through the doors, he found himself face to face with Dominic.

The rock star eyed him warily. ‘Gordon.’

‘Locksley.’

‘Did you enjoy the wedding?’

‘I’d have enjoyed it more,’ Rhys said deliberately, ‘if Gemma married someone else. Anyone else.’

Dominic’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’ve got a nerve, mate.’

‘You’d better not make her unhappy.’ Rhys’s words were terse. ‘Or you’ll have me to answer to.’

‘Throwing threats around, as always,’ Dominic scoffed. ‘Sorry, but your intimidation doesn’t scare me, Gordon. So you can just stick your threats up your arse.’

‘I mean it, Locksley. Gemma was my PA before she met you. She’s a smart girl – except for this unfortunate lapse – and she deserves the best. Since you’re not it, you’d better treat her well.’

He drew himself up. ‘I love Gemma.’

Rhys snorted. ‘Right. Just like you “loved” Keeley. And Natalie. And then Keeley again. So much so that you nearly married her a second time – until you got caught in the broom closet, shagging the bridesmaid.’

‘I can’t help it if the ladies like me, mate.’ He smirked. ‘I’m a rock star, you know? Women go with the territory.’

‘Just make sure,’ Rhys warned him as he came closer, ‘if there’s any part of your tiny little brain that isn’t fried by cocaine or drink, that you remember to do right by Gemma.’

‘Or what?’ Dominic challenged. ‘What’ll you do, Gordon? Beat me up? Throw me off a roof? Hire one of your Wester Hailes thugs to break my legs?’

Rhys shoved him, hard. ‘Shut your mouth, you cocky little sod!’

‘Stop it!’

The two men looked up, startled, as Natalie Dashwood-Gordon pushed her way through the gathering crowd surrounding them. ‘Rhys, what are you doing?’ she demanded, appalled. She drew him aside. ‘Are you mad, starting a fight with Dominic on his wedding day?’

‘He’s lucky I don’t take him outside and beat the crap out of him.’

Natalie glared at him. ‘Apologise.’

‘I’ll be damned if I will! He insulted me.’

‘Dominic?’ she demanded. ‘Is that true? Did you insult Rhys?’

He glowered. ‘If I did, it was only because he bloody well deserved it.’

‘Look, you two. This is a wedding. A
celebration
. And you’re both mucking it up with your dislike for each other.’ She turned to Rhys. ‘For my sake, and for Gemma’s, please...apologize to Dom, and try to be civil, at least until the reception ends.’

Chapter 52

Rhys scowled, and after a moment he grudgingly thrust out his hand. ‘Sorry.’

Dominic eyed his outthrust hand. Then, ‘Sorry,’ he muttered, and they shook on it.

‘There! That wasn’t so hard, was it?’ Natalie exclaimed, beaming.

‘Easy for you to say,’ Rhys grumbled, and put his hand on her back as they went to find their seats at the linen-draped tables arranged throughout the ballroom.

A portable stage was erected at the front of the ballroom, with amplifiers, microphone stands, a drum kit, and guitars standing ready. Dominic bounded up the steps to the stage and shouted, ‘Is everyone having a good time?’

Everyone shouted their assent and raised glasses of wine and champagne and whisky.

‘Good! Now it’s time for the
real
fun to begin.’

More cheers, clapping, and whistles.

‘As a surprise for my beautiful bride,’ Dom added as his eyes settled on Gemma, standing at the foot of the stage, ‘I’ve brought together a very talented group of musicians to play for you this afternoon.’

He swept out his arm as several unassuming men in jeans, T-shirts and Converse trainers made their way up onto the stage and picked up their instruments. ‘Please welcome me – I’m Dominic, by the way – and my ex-bandmates, The Destroyers.’

The crowd went wild, whistling and clapping and shouting their approval.

‘We’ve reunited for one last time. And it took a
lot
of doing to make it happen, believe me.’ Dominic smiled down tenderly at his brand-new wife. ‘But we did it for you, babes.’

She smiled up at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

‘But before we play the traditional first dance song,’ he added, ‘I want to play a song that has a special meaning for me and my gorgeous new wife, Gemma.’

They launched into ‘I Got Mine’, their biggest hit and the song they’d recorded for a Dashwood and James video, where he and Gemma had first met. From the opening chords, Gemma laughed, even as her eyes spilled over with tears.

It seemed like only yesterday that she’d called him a noxious little twat, she thought fondly. Now here they were, married – finally ‒ and she’d never been happier in her life.

She waggled her fingers at Dominic and laughed again as he caught her eye and winked. The concert, and this song in particular, was the perfect ending to their wedding – even if, disappointingly, a shipping strike had prevented the sleigh’s arrival. So there’d be no horse-drawn sleigh waiting to carry them off to the village hotel for their honeymoon.

But at least, thanks to Dom and Colm and Helen, she’d walked down the aisle in her Prada wedding gown.

The band finished the song with a flourish. Amidst cheers and applause, they launched into ‘It Must Have Been Love’. Mick, the bassist, took over the microphone as Dom jumped down and pulled Gemma into his arms.

‘I love you, babes,’ he murmured in her ear as they began their slow dance around the perimeter of the dance floor. ‘Are you happy?’

She kissed him. ‘Deliriously. I love you, Dom. Thank you for doing this, and for making our day perfect.’

Colm stood in the doorway and watched as Dominic and Gemma had their first dance as a married couple.

‘They look really happy together, don’t they?’

He turned around to see Helen standing behind him. She wore a red silk dress, and she took his breath away.

‘Yes,’ he said, his face set, and turned away. ‘They do.’

‘Colm,’ she began, ‘about last night, I’m sorry—’

‘Shouldn’t you be taking pictures?’ he cut in. ‘So you can get your story filed in time for the morning edition?’

‘I’m not taking pictures. And I’m not filing a story.’

‘Why? Did the
Probe
not offer you enough money for your exclusive?’

‘I could’ve made a lot of money for this story, yes. I could’ve sold the rights to papers all over the world.’

He turned to face her. ‘Why didn’t you, then?’

‘Because I thought about what you said, and I realized you’re right. Dominic and Gemma deserve their chance at happiness, just as much as anyone else, and their only wish was to have a private wedding, with no paparazzi. So,’ she added, ‘I decided to respect their wishes and let the story go.’ She sighed. ‘It’s hack writing for me for the rest of my life, I’m afraid.’

‘You can always quit and find another job.’

She nodded. ‘I will.’ She hesitated. ‘I hope you work things out with your father.’

He didn’t answer, and with a small, sad smile, she turned to go.

Halfway to the door, he turned and plunged into the crowd to follow her. ‘Where’re ye going, lass?’

‘Back to London. I’m turning in my resignation, and then I’m finding myself a job I can be proud of.’

‘Good. You should write that novel you’ve always wanted to write, while you’re at it.’

He opened the door and followed her outside.

Helen came to a stop at the top of the steps as she caught sight of a carriage, lavishly decorated with white ribbons and greenery and hitched to a matched pair of white horses.

She turned to Colm, her face alight. ‘A carriage? It’s fantastic! Gemma will be so pleased. I heard the sleigh didn’t arrive in time because of a strike of some sort.’

‘A shipping strike,’ he confirmed. ‘Gemma was so disappointed, I decided to see what I could do. Old Mr Buchanan – his sheep farm adjoins Draemar property ‒ had this antique carriage stored in one of his barns. It needed a bit of sprucing up, but between the two of us, we managed it.’

‘Gemma will be
so
thrilled!’ She studied Colm, touched that he’d gone to the trouble to arrange it, never mind the expense.

He shrugged, embarrassed.

‘Where on earth did you find two matched white horses, and on such short notice?’ she added him as Dominic and Gemma emerged from the castle a few minutes later. She smiled as Gemma caught sight of the carriage. The rock star handed his new bride, her eyes shining with happiness, up into the carriage.