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.’