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.

Colm glanced over at his father, who stood nearby, deep in conversation with Penelope and Archie. ‘I’m learning that when you have money, anything is possible.’

She looked at Colm uncertainly. ‘Do you mean?’

‘Have Longworth and I made our peace?’ His words were abrupt. ‘No. Maybe we never will. But you’re right – I’d be six kinds of stupid if I threw his offer back in his face. I’d be hurting no one but myself.’

She touched his arm. ‘I’m glad you reconsidered.’ She smiled and shaded her eyes against the late afternoon sun as the carriage rolled slowly off down the snow-covered drive. ‘You’ve made Gemma very, very happy.’

‘So have you,’ he said gruffly, ‘by not turning her wedding into a red-top exclusive.’

‘In the end, I couldn’t do it. I’m a tabloid reporter with a conscience,’ she finished ruefully. ‘Imagine that.’

His eyes, green-gold today, met hers. ‘I’m proud of you, lass. Truly. Perhaps...’

Helen eyed him expectantly as her heart did odd things inside her chest. ‘Perhaps what?’

‘Ah, nothing.’ He glanced down at his wristwatch. ‘It’s time I got back to the gatehouse. I’ve a lot of thinking to do.’

‘No, Colm,’ Helen persisted, and caught at his hand, ‘wait. Tell me. What were you about to say?’

He met her eyes. ‘I was about to say that maybe that’ll be us, one of these days,’ he said, and turned away to watch the bridal carriage as it rolled off down the drive, sun glinting on the roof.

Helen stared at him, scarcely daring to breathe. ‘What? You mean – the two of us, married?’

‘No,’ he retorted. ‘I mean, the two of us riding together in a carriage kitted out in ribbons and greenery.’ At the expression of mingled dismay and disappointment on her face, he grinned. ‘You daft Sassenach! Yes, of course I want to marry you, and soon. What did you think I meant?’

She stared at him in consternation, then flung her arms around him. ‘I want to marry you, too, Colm – even though you’re the most annoying, exasperating, stubborn man I’ve ever known!’

‘Don’t forget “filthy rich”,’ he added, and frowned. ‘In view of my newfound wealth, perhaps I should think twice before I marry ye.’

‘Really? And why is that?’

‘Well...’ He shrugged. ‘You might only want me for my money.’

‘I wanted you before you had a penny to your name,’ she retorted, ‘if you recall. Had you asked me last week to marry you, or last month, my answer would’ve been the same.’

A teasing light gleamed in his eye. ‘Is that right? So you say now, lass.’

Helen took his arm. ‘Come on, Mr MacKenzie. We can debate my intentions later. Right now, we’ve dances to dance and whisky to drink and a wedding to celebrate.’

‘What about London? I thought you were leaving.’

‘I can send my resignation to Tom via email. Besides, I really don’t want to leave Draemar just yet. I want to stay on at the reception for a bit longer. But I didn’t think you wanted me here.’ She smiled. ‘Now I know you do.’

Colm put his arms around her waist and drew her close. ‘I do want you here. I was too stubborn to say so, I suppose. I’m glad you’ve decided to stay. The gatehouse needs a woman’s touch.’ He bent his head down and kissed her. ‘I love you, lass. Now, let’s go and celebrate.’