Sealed with a Christmas Kiss (11 page)

‘Darling, we’ve learned a pretty important lesson here. If we’re going to be offering weddings, we needed to know how mad people can get about details. And you’ve been
pretty mad about details.’

‘My fault, though,’ Sian reached across, squeezing Kate’s hand. ‘I’ve been just as bad.’

‘I think I got a bit caught up in the whole thing,’ admitted Kate. ‘But it’s not just about the wedding, really, is it?’

‘It’s about the marriage, Kate.’ Jean, married herself for forty years, looked at her oldest friend, Morag, who nodded.

‘We don’t have to work hard to make this place look good in photographs. Adam’s already got some amazing shots. Duntarvie House is just beautiful,’ said Sian.

‘Well, that’s the house sorted.’ Morag put both hands down on the table. ‘Now all we need to do is sort out everything we need for this wedding.’

Kate looked at her with panic.

‘I’ll have none of that expression from you, young lady. We’ve got this under control.’

As it happened, there wasn’t another ferry until after Christmas. High winds made the seas rough and the crossing too dangerous. Kate’s perfect dress sat in the
shop in Glasgow, sheathed in a protective cover, as the last-minute Christmas shoppers hurried past Bonny Brides. The order for dozens of deep-red roses couldn’t make it to Helen’s
florist shop, so the perfectly coordinated Christmas-themed table settings didn’t happen. And somehow, Kate realized, it all worked out just perfectly in the end.

Morag had found her 1970s lace wedding dress in the attic. It sent Sian into raptures of delight with its vanilla-ice-cream fabric, maxi skirt with frilled hem, and pintucked bodice with a
cut-out lace insert. Jean had found a long, midnight-blue velvet evening cloak (‘I used to have a fine time in this,’ she’d smiled, remembering, ‘and there’s your
“something borrowed” and your “something blue” in one package’). Morag’s dress had fitted surprisingly well, especially if Kate didn’t breathe too often or
make any sudden movements. The morning of Christmas Eve, they’d woken to find the island sparkling with a thick hoar frost. The storm had dropped, and ferries were running again. By
lunchtime, though, the blue skies were clouding over, the sky filling ominously with violet-grey clouds.

They’d clattered along from Morag’s stables in the early afternoon. Kate, deciding to be traditional, spent the night before the wedding in Morag’s guest bedroom. They spent
the morning cosy in Morag and Ted’s kitchen, warmed by the Aga, toasting the future with champagne for breakfast and a constant supply of cakes. Kate, who’d insisted she couldn’t
eat a thing, found that Morag’s baking was tempting enough to surprise her into managing quite a bit.

Once she was dressed, they headed out into the stable yard. Thor, Kate’s favourite Highland pony, was in harness, the shining leather woven through with red tartan ribbon which looked
beautiful against his pale coat. The little two-man carriage had been decorated by Helen, and every surface was wrapped in ivy and ribbons.

‘Come on, then, you’ve got a wedding to get to.’ Ted held out his hand to help her up onto the seat, which was lined with a thick woollen fleece. He climbed up beside Kate,
gently placing a fake-fur-trimmed cloak around her shoulders.

Morag, dabbing her eyes, handed Elizabeth a tissue. ‘You look beautiful.’

With a sudden jolt, they were off. Thor’s head was high, his ears pricked forwards, as he stepped carefully along the narrow road that led down to Duntarvie House.

As they arrived in the icy courtyard of Duntarvie House Kate looked up for a moment, realizing what she was taking on. The turrets sparkled in the winter sunlight, and in the windows she could
see hundreds of Christmas lights twinkling out, a galaxy of winter stars.

‘Come on, my love. You get inside.’ Ted, with a gentle hand on her elbow, helped Kate as she clambered down from the little carriage. She recognized one of the teenagers who helped
out in the stables at weekends.

‘Good luck,’ said the girl with a shy smile as she took Thor’s reins, ready to lead him carefully back home.

‘She doesn’t need luck, this one.’

Kate felt as if a million butterflies wearing army boots were dancing in her stomach. She looked up at the hugeness of Duntarvie House and back at Ted, silently seeking reassurance.

‘You’ll be fine, my dear.’ He gave her arm a squeeze.

They made their way through the hall, where the Christmas tree sparkled brightly in the midwinter gloom, to the ballroom. All that time worrying about the decorations, and
despite the disasters of the last few days, the place somehow looked beautiful.

At the end of the room, resplendent in a kilt and Argyll jacket, was Roddy. Everywhere she looked, there were the faces of people she loved – it might be a small gathering, but every
member of the wedding party was someone significant. The room was filled with happiness and Kate found she’d forgotten her nerves.

‘You told me you were wearing a suit!’

‘It’s traditional to say something more complimentary to the groom, I believe? Oh, and hello, beautiful.’ Roddy looked at her as if they were the only people in the room.

‘Doing anything special today?’ said Kate, teasing him.

He pulled a face. ‘Mmm, dunno. I was thinking of marrying this girl I love?’

The registrar cleared her throat. Kate and Roddy both jumped to attention.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, we’re here today to celebrate the marriage of Roderick and Kate . . . ’

Susan and Helen had filled the huge dining room with armfuls of greenery. The dining table was strewn with holly and ivy, tied together with swathes of plain white raffia. It
looked amazing against the beauty of the dark wood panelling. Taking a moment to look around, Kate could see the room was full of everyone she loved – or almost everyone. She reached into her
little bag, pulling out her mobile phone. There was one thing missing from today.

No reply came. The signal was hopeless, and with the storm, even the internet wasn’t at its best. It’d be ages before she heard back. With a sigh, she looked at her phone for a
second more, willing Emma to reply. She caught her mum giving her a look – one that clearly said, ‘Darling, why are you messing about with your phone?’ – and stuffed it back
into the bag, feeling it buzz as she did so.

Kate turned to find Roddy. He was laughing with Morag and Ted, his arm around Bruno’s shoulder. Sian’s boyfriend Adam was taking photos constantly, and had been all day, but he was
so easygoing nobody even noticed what he was doing. He was a million miles from the starchy wedding photographer Kate had dreaded, nipping unobtrusively between groups of people, snapping
conversations, managing to be everywhere and yet completely invisible. She smiled at him, wondering if she ought to get him something to eat.

‘Kate!’ Something hit her in the legs – no, two things. Four little arms were wrapped around her legs, and a pair of golden heads were bobbing up and down. It looked like
–

‘Girls, you need to curtsey to Kate now, y’know.’

Katharine and Jennifer pulled back, hearing their stepmother’s voice from the doorway. ‘Emma!’

Her friend’s smile was enormous. Roddy was across the room in seconds, holding open the door for Emma’s husband, Sam, who was holding a car seat with a sleeping baby inside. His
shoulders were covered with a scattering of snow.

‘Happy Christmas, darling.’ Roddy was looking extremely pleased with himself.

‘You . . . how did you manage this?’ Kate looked from him to a beaming Emma, and then to Sam, who looked like he’d driven four hundred miles and needed a drink. She turned
again to Roddy, who had grabbed a glass of whisky from the table and was thrusting it into Sam’s hands.

‘How did you—’

‘Emma was the first person I called – I knew you wouldn’t want to do this without her.’

‘But . . . you said you couldn’t make it!’

Emma grabbed Kate in a bear hug, laughing.

‘And doesn’t the surprise make it more fun? Plus, I wouldn’t have heard the whole story of how my supposedly sensible friend became the bride-to-be from
hell
if I
hadn’t been in constant touch with Roddy . . . ’

Roddy hushed her in mock-admonishment.

‘I wasn’t that bad, was I?’

There was an eloquent silence. Susan, who’d joined them, put an arm round Kate’s shoulders with a laugh.

‘We’re calling it a – learning experience. Kate’s demonstrated the effect wedding fever can have on the most level-headed of people. We’ve got her on a twelve-step
programme to keep her off Pinterest and wedding magazines, and we’re hoping for a full recovery.’

Jennifer was tugging at Kate’s wedding dress. ‘And guess what? Even better than a wedding, it’s the best Christmas ever! It’s
snowing
!’

Kate turned to look outside. Heavy snow was falling onto the frozen ground, whirling in the beams of light from the windows as the midwinter evening drew in.

‘Can we have a snowball fight? Can we?’

Katharine was jumping up and down with excitement. The room was full of people, and nobody would notice if they disappeared outside for a minute. Catching Roddy by the hand, she pulled him out
into the hall, beckoning the girls to follow them.

‘Come on, then. Let’s have a look.’

Kate stood, wrapped in her velvet cloak, her cream silk wedding shoes replaced with wellingtons. Roddy was behind her, arms around her waist, his breath in her hair. The girls
hurtled around in the snow, scrabbling together handfuls to make the first tiny snowballs.

‘Look at that.’ Roddy pointed through the tall windows of the dining room. Through the dusk the room shone brightly, a beacon of warmth from the ancient stone of Duntarvie House.
They could see their friends and family, all of whom had pulled together to make this wedding a success despite the rush and the chaos and the myriad disasters.

‘We’re surrounded by the people we love.’ He pulled Kate close. ‘That’s what weddings are about.’

‘Yuck, that’s disgusting!’ A snowball hit Roddy on the head and the girls ran back to the house, whooping with delight.

‘Coming?’ Kate took him by the hand, and together they walked back through the falling snow towards Christmas, their loved ones, and their new life.

THE END

My love of Christmas comes from my lovely mum, Anne, who made sure that each one was special and full of tradition whether it was spent in an Australian heatwave or in the
Highlands of Scotland. She continues to do the same every year for her grandchildren and it’s wonderful. I throw myself into it every November, watching every single cheesy made-for-TV
Christmas movie I can find, curling up with a hot chocolate spiked with rum and topped with cream and a candy cane. Even on Twelfth Night I’m sad to see the end of the decorations, so it was
a real treat this year to extend my Christmas right through January whilst I wrote this book.

Huge thank you to Amanda Preston, my incredibly funny agent who never fails to save my sanity, and to Caroline Hogg, my editor, who writes book notes that make me giggle. To Natasha at Pan Mac,
for being lovely. To our six children, Verity, Rosie, Archie, Jude, Charlie and Rory: thank you all for being gorgeous and making us laugh every single day. A special thank you to Lucy Diamond for
helping me with the technical stuff, too.

And to the three wise men I’m so lucky to know: Chris, Ross and Stewart. Thank you for everything you do.

If you enjoyed
Sealed with a Christmas Kiss
, then you’ll love Rachael’s first novel – featuring the same characters . . .

Kate is dumped on her best friend’s wedding day by the world’s most boring boyfriend, Ian. She’s mostly cross because he got in first – until she
remembers she’s now homeless as well as jobless. Rather than move back home to her ultra-bossy mother, Kate takes a job on the remote Scottish island of Auchenmor as an all-round Girl Friday.
Her first day is pretty much a disaster: she falls over smack bang at the feet of her grouchy new boss Roddy, Laird of the island. Unimpressed with her townie ways, he makes it clear she’s
got a lot to prove.

Island life has no room for secrets, but prickly Roddy’s keeping something to himself. When his demanding ex-girlfriend appears back on the island, Kate’s budding friendship with her
new boss comes to an abrupt end. What is Fiona planning – and can she be stopped before it’s too late?

This funny, big-hearted novel is the perfect read for fans of Carole Matthews, Trisha Ashley and Katie Fforde.

Rachael lives by the seaside in the North West of England with her partner and their blended family of six children.

For more about Rachael, visit her website at www.rachaellucas.com, say hello to her on Twitter @karamina or find her on Facebook at facebook.com/RachaelLucasWriter.

Also by Rachael Lucas

Sealed with a Kiss