Ian decided at that moment that he liked him. He held out a hand. “A pleasure.”
“Same here. You need anything else, let me know.” Malcolm gave Ian a nod, then greeted Jamie as he came out with baskets of baked goods in his arms.
Jamie looked past his brother to the hotel manager’s departing figure. “You met Malcolm?”
“The engineer?”
Jamie laughed. “He dotes on Muriel. He’s driving her a little crazy to hear her talk, but she likes him.”
“Good enough for me. How about you? Nervous?”
Jamie strode across the gravel drive, releasing the boot of his car with his key fob. He deposited the baskets of baked goods inside. “What’s there to be nervous about?”
“‘I do. Till death do us part.’ That sort of thing makes most men squirm.”
“Would it make you nervous?” Jamie shot back with a smirk. Maybe he had a point.
They made several trips between Muriel’s house and the hotel, Ian delivering flowers to the decorators while Jamie made sure there was coffee, tea, fruit, and pastries for the several dozen guests staying at the hotel. Ian was headed back to his room to change when he bumped into his uncle on the stairway.
“Rodney! I didn’t know you were coming!”
“Came up with your mum last night.” Rodney clapped Ian on the shoulder, then lowered his voice. “So you brought Grace, eh?”
“That was fast. How’d you know?”
“You just told me. Keep her away from Marjorie until later, though. They’ll need fireworks as the grand finale.”
Ian couldn’t help but laugh. Rodney looked downright excited about the potential for an altercation. “I’ll do my best.”
“You can thank me later, by the way. I’m always right.”
Grace still hadn’t emerged by the time Serena came to summon him for photos of the groomsmen down in the meadow. Dressed in a sky-blue bridesmaid gown with a spray of flowers in her short hair, she looked younger and prettier than he’d seen her since her husband died two years earlier. He placed her hand in the crook of his elbow as they crossed the car park to the meadow.
“I feel like we haven’t talked in months,” Ian said. “Everything fine?”
“It’s only been four weeks! Or have you been too busy to remember that?”
“Tell me what you really think, Sis.”
She paused, then sighed and squeezed his arm hard. “It doesn’t matter what I think. The only thing that matters is that you’re happy. I’ve known for years that you still loved Grace. Why do you think I never pressed you about dating? Some people I guess you never get over.”
“Is that how it is for you? You’re young, you know. Edward has only been gone for two years, but—”
Serena waved a hand and inadvertently gave him a glimpse of her weariness. “I have two children. Not many men my age are looking for an instant family. Either they want their own or none at all. Not that I’m looking, mind you.”
Ian leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “Someday. Don’t give up too quickly, all right?”
“Well, look who’s turned into a hopeless romantic?” Serena flashed a teasing smile before they got absorbed into the wedding party waiting for portraits.
“What are you smiling about?” Jamie came up between them, looking far more comfortable in his formal wear than Ian felt, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Nothing. You ready? In about an hour, you’re going to be a married man.”
“Can’t wait,” Jamie said easily. “Can you stay here and keep an eye on things? I’m going to go check on the food again—”
“Don’t you dare.” Serena glared at Jamie, then turned to Ian. “Your job is to make sure that he does not go bother Jeremy for the fourth time this morning. Today he is a groom, not a chef.”
“I am always a chef,” Jamie protested, but it was clearly more for their sister’s benefit than any real desire to argue. “Plus, I’m an excellent host, and I want to make sure that our guests—”
“Will benefit from the only chef in whom you’ve ever invested, because you believe in his ability to turn out good food without your supervision.”
“When did she get so bossy?” Jamie asked Ian.
“She’s always been bossy. Granted, you gave her plenty of reasons growing up.”
“All right, you two. That’s enough of that. I’m going to make sure Em and Max haven’t managed to destroy themselves before the ceremony. Don’t go anywhere. The photographer may need you again.”
Ian watched their sister go and slapped Jamie on the back, squeezing his shoulder hard enough to make him wince. “I’m happy for you, Jamie. I really am. Andrea is an amazing woman. And maybe the only one tough enough to keep you in line.”
“Go ahead and have a laugh at my expense. I have a feeling I’ll be the one laughing soon enough.” Jamie glanced significantly over his shoulder.
Ian followed his brother’s gaze and his mouth went dry. Grace picked her way across the gravel car park with a camera in hand, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her long enough to determine which equipment she’d chosen. The clingy royal-blue dress skimmed over her curves, its color setting off her creamy Irish skin and blonde hair. When she spotted him and smiled, his gut twisted.
“I know that look,” Jamie said, grinning. “You’re done for.”
Ian almost didn’t register his brother moving away as Grace stepped up beside him. “Where’s he going?”
Only then did he notice her dress was backless, the fabric plunging down to show a flowering tree tattooed across her back. He couldn’t resist the chance to touch her, his thumb caressing her bare skin long enough to make her shiver. When he regained his ability to speak, he pitched his voice for her ears only. “It’s a good thing we’re in public. You in that dress may well be the sexiest thing I’ve seen in my entire life.”
Her startled gaze found his while pink bloomed in her cheeks. “It’s too much, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s most definitely not too much.” His fingers tightened on her waist. “I just didn’t know your cruel streak ran that deep.”
The light pink deepened to crimson, but a secretive smile stretched her lips. Then he looked past her, and his heart sank. “Brace yourself, love.”
Grace jerked her head up and stiffened when she glimpsed his mother crossing the meadow toward them, beautiful and icy cold in a gray silk suit more suited to London than Scotland. Grace tried to move away, but he held her fast. “No hiding. We’re in this together, remember?”
Marjorie’s perfectly groomed eyebrows went up when she saw Ian’s possessive stance: his arm around Grace’s waist, hand resting on her opposite hip. “There you are,” she said with a practiced smile. “Am I late for photos?”
“Just in time, I’d say. Mum, you remember Grace Brennan?”
She shifted her focus to Grace and held out her hand. “Of course I remember Grace. Congratulations are in order, I think. It seems you’ve made quite a name for yourself since the last time we saw each other.”
Ian let out his held breath. So his mum would be cordial for the sake of Jamie’s wedding. That was something, even if the welcome she gave was not exactly warm.
Grace, for her part, put on a smile so convincing that Ian would have been fooled had he not still felt the tension in her stance. “Thank you, Mrs. MacDonald. How long will you be here in Scotland?”
“Just for the weekend. Seeing my younger son marry such a lovely and accomplished young woman is surely the highlight of the summer for me. Even if she is an American.”
“Really, Mum.” Ian sighed and inclined his head toward where the cluster of groomsmen had gathered for more photos. “If you want to take a photo with your sainted younger son, you’d better hurry.”
Marjorie looked sharply at him, but she nodded to Grace. “I’m sure we’ll have time to speak later, Grace.”
“Don’t count on it.” Ian loaded warning into his voice. Marjorie’s eyebrows lifted in
surprise, but she said nothing else as she moved back toward the wedding party.
“That was considerably less painful than I expected,” Grace said. “You didn’t need to do that.”
“Do what? Best she know I won’t tolerate rudeness toward you. Now let’s get you to your seat.”
“I thought I’d snap some extra shots of the wedding. It could be a nice gift for Jamie and Andrea when they return to London.”
“That would be lovely. I’ll be doing my best man duties, but I expect you to save all your dances for me at the reception.”
“That, you should count on.” She smiled at him and then walked away with camera in hand, not even Jamie’s amused attention able to distract him from the gentle sway of her hips in that dress.
“Get ahold of yourself, MacDonald,” he murmured, wiping a hand across his face. Though he’d bet there wasn’t a single man in the place who could blame him for his reaction. He strode across the meadow, giving his brother a sharp shake of the head as he passed. “Don’t say it.”
“Not a word.” But Jamie’s laugh followed him all the way to the aisle.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
THE GUESTS BEGAN TO FILL IN the chairs in the meadow, and Grace circled the hotel in search of the wedding party’s approach. Considering James’s high profile, it was a surprisingly low-key event, with under a hundred guests and none of the ostentatious touches that one would expect from a celebrity wedding. Of course, Andrea was shockingly down-to-earth, and it was pretty clear that James would give his fiancée anything she asked.
Grace found the staging area outside one of the three stone cottages that seemed to be serving as the preparation rooms for the wedding party. Serena stood in a blue gown that somehow managed to be the exact color of the island sky, two little girls in puffy white dresses giggling excitedly beside her. Another dark-haired woman, her petite, pretty looks suggesting she must be Andrea’s sister, knelt beside a young boy who kept plucking at his clip-on bow tie.
Grace kept her distance, relying on the long lens to capture images without inserting herself into the scene. These would be the details that James and Andrea would want to remember later—the ones lost in the nerves of the prewedding moments. She couldn’t help but admire Andrea’s bravery in having not one, but five children as part of the wedding party.
Then the door to the middle cottage opened and Andrea stepped out. Somehow Grace had known she wouldn’t choose a princess dress; instead, she wore a sleeveless white sheath with ruching that highlighted her figure, simple pleats in the back allowing her to walk. No train. No veil. Just a cluster of white flowers pinned into an elegant French knot at the back of her head. Grace shifted position to snap a few candids, knowing one of these would end up getting framed for James.
The prick of longing was so unfamiliar that it took Grace a few moments to recognize it. There was no fear in the eyes of the bride, only a smile that lit her entire face and seemed to illuminate the space around her. What would it be like to be so sure about her decisions? So in love and secure in that love that she could walk toward her future without a second thought?
They were sorting themselves into order for the processional, and Grace raised her camera again. At some point, Serena noticed her presence and shot her a rueful smile as she muscled her unruly toddler into line again. Andrea was right. The MacDonald family had a warmth about them that defied all expectations.
From the meadow, the strains of a bagpipe indicated the beginning of the processional, and Grace found a point on the edge of the seating where she could capture some shots of their arrival without getting in the way of the official photographer. First came the twin girl and boy she assumed belonged to Becky, strewing flower petals along the carpeted path to the altar, followed by Em and an older boy who had to be Andrea’s other nephew. She noted Em’s pink flush as she held the boy’s arm—first crush in the making? Then came Max, toddling down the aisle with a pillow that held the rings. Grace held her breath as he tripped, but Serena set him on his feet again before he could hit the ground. Soft laughter rang out from the guests.
Everyone rose then as the bride appeared at the end of the aisle on her sister’s arm. Andrea looked radiant and happy and so excited that Grace sighed along with the rest of the guests who had been caught up in the romantic setting.
James watched his bride’s slow walk down the aisle, enthralled. Grace snapped a burst of shots and smiled to herself. One of these would surely be framed for Andrea’s gift. What woman wouldn’t want to remember the love in the face of her groom when he first saw her in her white dress? If there had been doubt in anyone’s mind that the former playboy had found his soul mate, that single expression would erase it completely.
When she focused on the rest of the wedding party, however, she realized that not everyone’s attention was on the bride. Ian was looking directly at her. Her breath caught. That look held so much emotion, she wondered if he was picturing them in James and Andrea’s place.
Grace thrust herself into an empty seat before the strength went out of her legs completely. Even after the piper stopped and the officiant began the greeting to the guests, she heard very little of what was said. She loved Ian. She’d known that from the second she’d set foot on the cement embankment outside his club, but the commitment he wanted, the promise of forever, had seemed too impossible to think about.
Now, watching James and Andrea hold hands and exchange their vows with love shining in their eyes, she couldn’t suppress the wave of yearning. It took very little to imagine herself standing with Ian, exchanging their own vows. When she met his eyes again, he was still looking at her, a secretive smile on his lips.
She forced herself to listen to the rest of the ceremony, applauding with the other guests as James scooped Andrea into his arms for a tender and unhurried kiss, then escorted her back down the aisle with a foolish grin plastered on his face. Andrea was smiling and laughing, whispering things to her new husband as they went. Grace rose to get a picture of the recessional, both of the new Mr. and Mrs. MacDonald as well as Ian and Serena, who walked arm in arm behind them, his height dwarfing his petite sister beside him.
When he passed, she murmured in a voice just loud enough for him to hear, “Nice kilt, Scotsman.”
He said nothing, just winked at her and gave her that half smile. And like that, her last bit of doubt vanished.
There were more pictures after the wedding with the bride and her attendants, but Ian kept an eye on the blonde in the blue dress who wove in and out of guests and caterers, her camera in hand. She had a knack for being in the right place at the right time to capture the candids the wedding photographer couldn’t get to—her editorial skills at work. He had no doubt that by the end, she would have an album that told the alternate story of the wedding from a guest’s point of view—probably one that would be more treasured than the formal shots of the wedding party.
“So, Brother dear,” Serena said, “what do you plan to do about her?”
“What do you mean?”
“You couldn’t take your eyes off her the entire time you were standing up there, and it was your brother’s wedding. Did you even hear any of the vows?”
“There were vows?” Something about the whole event was making him punchy, and Serena’s raised-eyebrow look said she knew it. He nodded toward the kids playing on the lawn. “Look, there’s Em and Max. Go attend to your offspring. I’ll survive without your supervision.”
She stuck out her tongue before moving toward her two kids.
“It was a lovely wedding.”
His smile formed before he even turned. “It was, wasn’t it? They look truly happy.”
Grace inclined her head to where the newly married couple was presiding over a receiving line, speaking to the guests beneath the expansive tent. “They really do. Of course, it’s driving James absolutely mad not being able to oversee the food. Look.”
Sure enough, Jamie cast a glance over his shoulder to where hors d’oe
uvres were being circulated among the waiting guests.
“He never changes,” Grace said with an affectionate smile.
“That’s the thing. He has changed, and for the better. When they met, I didn’t believe he could come to care for someone in such a short period of time. Or at all. But looking at them now . . .”
“Sometimes it takes the right person to bring out the best in another. Someone that makes you feel things you never thought possible.” There was a new emotion shining in her eyes, and something in his chest gave a little tug in answer, as if recognizing what she left unsaid.
He took her hand. “Come, let’s find our seats.”
She didn’t protest that she wasn’t part of the wedding party, just interlaced her fingers with his and followed him through the crowd. He introduced her over and over, his hand resting on the small of her back, taking every chance he could to surreptitiously caress her exposed skin and thrilling to the occasional shiver that shot through her body.
“We’re at my brother’s wedding, and all I can think about is pulling you into a secluded corner and kissing you senseless,” he murmured when they finally took their seats at the long head table beneath the tent. “Is that wrong?”
“Yes, it’s completely wrong,” she said, but the answering heat in her green eyes said something else entirely. That was all it took to ruin his concentration for the evening.
The food was impeccable. If this was any indication of Chef Davis’s talent, it was no wonder that Jamie had decided to invest in the man’s restaurant. Different from Jamie’s elegant take on comfort food—more avant-garde, more international—it still had the care and precision Ian would expect from his brother’s protégé. Still, he was glad when they progressed to the wedding cake, and then at last to dancing on the wooden floor set up in the meadow beneath the swiftly setting sun. It was a legitimate excuse to get Grace in his arms again.
“They really do look great together,” she said. Jamie and Andrea swayed on the dance floor, wrapped in each other’s arms, blissfully unaware of the existence of the other guests dancing around them. “They make me want to believe in happily-ever-afters.”
London Tides Page 20
