A Scottish Wedding (Lost in Scotland Book 2)

by Hilaria Alexander

  I wondered if this exhilarating, maddening feeling was ever going to subside. Part of me hoped it wouldn’t. I wanted to love and worship her for the rest of my days.

  Exhilarated and breathless from my kisses, she pulled back, sighing against my mouth.

  Our foreheads touched, our noses brushing lightly.

  She laughed softly.

  “What’s gotten into you?” she asked.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “We’re only going to be apart for twenty-four hours, MacLeod,” Sam teased. “I’ll be back before you know it. This might be a good chance to read the script Cosima sent you.” She cocked one eyebrow, and I was suddenly taken aback.

  “You knew?”

  “She told me.”

  “She shouldn’t have. Besides, it doesn’t matter. I’m not doing the movie in New York.”

  “Like hell you aren’t. You aren’t going to pass this up because of me.”

  “Because of . . . us. Besides, the role isn’t even mine, and I don’t intend on auditioning for it. I don’t understand . . . don’t you want to get married? Have you changed your mind, Sam?”

  “I have not,” she replied firmly. She sighed, exasperated. “Hugh, I want to marry you, and we will get married. We’ll set a date . . . soon. As a matter of fact, let’s do it as soon as I get back from my getaway. You’re not passing up movie roles because we might or we might not get married around the time this movie is supposed to start shooting. I’m not letting you do this.”

  “But–”

  “It’s nonnegotiable. You’ll see, everything is going to work out. Everything is going to fall into place.” She placed soft, chaste kisses on my cheek.

  “How do you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Butter me up like toast.”

  She laughed. “I swear, I’m not trying to flatter you. I just . . . know,” she said with a coy smile. “I want to get married in Stonehaven, too. As soon as I get back, let’s make a list of everything we need to do. We might have to hire a wedding planner, since we are both so busy.”

  “You’re right. That might make things easier to handle.”

  “Let’s start making plans . . . this weekend.”

  I nodded, relieved that my stupid insecurities had been washed away once more.

  “So, do you know if you’re going to be fully clothed for this photo shoot? Do you think there might be the chance they ask you to get naked?” She wiggled her eyebrows, and in response, I frowned.

  I hadn’t thought about it, at all. I had no idea what the company had in mind for the campaign, but no one had mentioned that I might have to be naked. I knew I didn’t have to worry about a thing, because with the strenuous training and diet Winston had put me through, I was looking trimmer than ever. But, just like when I had to get naked on set, I couldn’t help getting a little jittery.

  “What’s the worried look for, mo gradh?” Sam teased. “You’ll look amazing with or without clothes on.” She winked, and that made me laugh.

  I was in the best shape of my life. I shouldn’t have been worried. Still, even though I knew I had no reason to be nervous, I was suddenly overcome by that familiar terror of getting undressed for the camera.

  SAM

  I checked to make sure he was sound asleep then went downstairs to make a call.

  “I almost ruined everything, Cecilia. I almost broke. I hate lying to him.”

  “There, there. Aren’t you being a little dramatic? What brought this on?”

  “He wanted me to go with him to the photo shoot, and I . . . well, I hate disappointing him, but more than anything, I hate lying to him. You should have seen his face when I turned him down.”

  “You’re being too hard on yourself,” she said, letting out a yawn. “Go to bed, Sam.”

  “I can’t sleep, Cece.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I don’t know.” I paused. “Tell me I’m not making a colossal mistake.”

  “You aren’t.”

  “That’s all you’ve got?”

  “How much more convincing do you need me to be? He’s going to love it, okay? I just know it!”

  “I don’t trust myself.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m afraid I will let something slip. If you notice me saying something stupid tomorrow, you need to stop me and intervene. Promise me that!”

  “Okay, okay, I promise.” She yawned. “Now, be a good girl and go to bed. I need my beauty sleep, you know.”

  “Fine. Good night, Cece.”

  “Go to sleep, Sam.”

  HUGH

  Sam and Cecilia left on Thursday night for their spa getaway. Now it was my turn to be alone at the cottage, and I had to admit, I was feeling pretty lonely.

  If I didn’t have a photo shoot the next day, I would have gone into town to hang out with the guys, but I knew if I went to the pub, I’d end up getting pissed.

  Makeup or not, I still had to try to look my best in the morning. I forewent the premade meals and made myself a light dinner with grilled chicken and steamed vegetables then cracked open my only indulgence of the night: a local craft beer from a brewery in Edinburgh.

  Since I had some time to kill, I decided to call my brother.

  “So, how you’ve been? How’s filming going? How’s Sam?” Declan asked over FaceTime.

  “Good. Things on set are great, and things are good with Sam, too . . . I suppose.”

  “You suppose? Is everything okay between you two?” Declan took a swig of beer and I looked down, trying to find the right words to say.

  “Yeah, things have been good, but I don’t know, Declan. I know she loves me, but I keep having this ill feeling that something’s wrong, that she’s hiding something from me. I made an arse of myself a couple times already, and each time Sam showed me I didn’t have valid reasons to be suspicious.”

  “I don’t understand, brother. Suspicious of what?”

  “I dinna ken. Sometimes I feel like maybe . . . maybe she isn’t ready to get married, and I’m putting too much pressure on her.”

  “Well, are ye?”

  I shrugged. “Sometimes, maybe. She seemed really excited at first but lately . . . I don’t know. Something is . . . off. I’d like to think by now I knew how to read her.”

  “Women aren’t that simple, Hugh.” He gave me a cocky grin, the one of someone who’s been through a lot, and took another swig of his beer.

  “I don’t think it’s a matter of difficult or simple. It’s . . . something else. I think she’s keeping something from me, and I can’t figure out what it is.”

  “Have you tried talking to her without sounding like a jealous bastard? You know my marriage failed mainly because we bloody sucked at communicating what we wanted and expected from one another.”

  “Yeah, well . . . it’s complicated, ye see. Most of the time, everything is great, but then there are some times when she tenses up . . . especially when I talk about anything wedding-related.”

  “So, is she scared of getting married? Is this because of her ma and da? Is it because her parents got divorced? Do you think she’s getting cold feet?”

  “I don’t think so. She was excited, and she told me she’s dress shopping and looking for suitable venues.”

  “It sounds to me like there’s nothing you should worry about, brother. You two live and work together. It would be pretty hard to hide something from someone you’re spending so much time with. But, if you think she doesn’t want to get married any time soon, you need to ask her. Don’t make the same mistake I did with my ex-wife. Talk to her.”

  “Ok I will, thanks. How are the kids? Are they with you? Are you even home? It doesn’t look like it.”

  “No, I had a client and I ended up staying up here in Edinburgh, so I’m not far from you at all. The kids are with their mum. I have them this weekend, though.”

  “You promised Claire you would bring them up here to visit their u
ncle. Don’t wait too long. It won’t be nearly as much fun to see the set once the temperatures go below freezing.”

  “You’re right,” my brother agreed with a grin. “I need to take them up there. I can’t wait to see their faces when they see what their uncle does for a living,” he teased.

  “Hey!”

  “All in good fun, brother. I know Claire is going to love it. Rory, on the other hand, still has a hard time understanding why there are advertisements around town with his uncle’s face on it.”

  “Aye, I bet that’s kind of weird. Sam told me that when she was little she used to think fictional characters lived in an alternate world, and people like her father were the ones to capture it, like a documentary of sorts.”

  Declan laughed, but then made a face, as if he’d suddenly thought of something.

  “By the way, have you been rehearsing?” he asked.

  “Yeah, well . . . I have, when she’s not around. I guess it’s a good thing that this year she doesn’t spend that much time in my trailer. I’m always afraid she’s going to catch me.”

  “But you have been practicing, right?” my brother asked, eyebrows raised as if he didn’t believe me. “Because we don’t know when it’s going to be, not until you two make a decision. I would make sure you’re ready.”

  “What are you trying to imply, brother?” I asked, feigning annoyance.

  “That you should be practicing right now, since she’s not around. You’re not that great of a player, ye ken.”

  I let out a breath. It was just like an older brother to tell you what to do at any given time, or tell you flat-out how shit you were at something.

  “Fine,” I replied. “I’ll get the guitar out.”

  “That’s a good lad. I’ll go get mine and we can practice together.”

  I was grumpy when I woke up in the morning.

  Declan and I practiced for a couple of hours and I ended up having two more beers.

  As soon as I opened my eyes, I brought a hand down to my stomach. I hoped I wasn’t going to feel bloated today; I had to look my best. I stretched out my hand to Sam’s side, and only then remembered she was gone.

  I sighed.

  Not only did I miss my brown-haired siren, I was starting to feel a bit resentful.

  I hadn’t heard from her at all, and even though I knew she and Cecilia had all kinds of pampering lined up, I thought I’d get a few messages or a FaceTime call from her.

  Even so, I knew nothing good came from being jealous and clingy, knew I had to give her space, so I took a shower in the hope of washing away my sour mood.

  I started feeling a bit better when I got in the car and drove toward Stonehaven.

  I had visited this town many times as a kid, and I loved the little church by the cliff. I made a mental note to go by there, since we were supposed to shoot not far from there.

  Maybe next time Sam and I would be able to visit together and start planning our wedding. I didn’t want to rush her, but I couldn’t wait to see her in a billowy white dress, walking down the aisle to the sound of “Wedding March.”

  I kept fantasizing about us, together, on our wedding night.

  When I got to town, I realized just how close to the church the location of the photo shoot was.

  I took a quick picture and sent it to Sam.

  A few seconds later, she replied with a message.

  Oh, my goodness. It’s just as beautiful as you said.

  It’s pretty, isn’t it?

  That’s a killer panorama. Fine, you convinced me. I’m sold. We either marry at this place or nowhere else!

  Well, don’t be so dramatic now. If this place is not available any time soon, we’ll find something else, maybe something even better.

  Whatever you say, love. I miss you. Sorry I didn’t call you last night. I was pretty much babysitting Cecilia as she worshipped the ceramic God.

  You’re kidding.

  No, unfortunately. But I have a massage in five, so my day is fixing to get a lot better. How’s the photo shoot going?

  We haven’t started yet. They are getting me ready. Also, you’ll love this: the shoot is for a company specialized in Scottish formalwear.

  Sounds like they got the best testimonial they could ask for. I need to go now! Don’t forget to turn that smolder on for the camera! Love you!

  I shot her a quick reply and then relaxed in the makeup chair, even though it felt weird and different not having her around. She’d said she was sorry she couldn’t call; my brother was right—Sam wasn’t hiding anything from me.

  I was just overreacting and being a stubborn arse.

  HUGH

  Over the next two hours, I changed outfits four times. They took pictures of me in the courtyard by the church in different combinations of formal attire, the kind a groom would wear during his wedding. The photographer also decided to take some pictures by the ruins of the old church, and the view from that angle was simply stunning.

  I wore different combinations of jackets and tartans, and for my fourth outfit, they dressed me in familiar colors. I was wearing the MacLeod tartan.

  It had to be a coincidence.

  This suit had a more modern twist compared to the one I wore for Declan’s wedding. It was more like what I had seen my peers wear—the tartan paired with a dark shirt—instead of the more classic black jacket and white button-down.

  When I saw myself in the mirror, I took a deep breath, admiring the craftsmanship and how well it fit me. I wished Sam could see me. Oh well. She would see it soon enough when they sent the proofs over, and then it hopefully wouldn’t be too long before she saw me in an outfit like this one in person.

  I walked with the photographer, Arnauld, and his assistants back to the front of the church.

  “Let’s take some pictures inside the church now,” the photographer suggested.

  I frowned. “Is that even allowed?” I asked.

  “Oh, oui, mon ami. We asked permission ahead of time,” he said with his French accent. “But I need to take a little break, and I also need to change cameras. Go ahead and wait for me inside. Sandra will escort you,” he said, pointing at one of his assistants. They were all young women in their twenties, petite, dressed in black, and each wearing a headset. Sandra was speaking into the microphone of her headset and clutching a plain black clipboard to her chest when her boss called her over.

  “Sandra, ma chere! Accompany Hugh into the church, s’il vous plaît?”

  I nodded, still a bit perplexed.

  “Mr. MacLeod, please follow me.”

  “You can call me Hugh,” I said with a perplexed frown.

  “Is everything okay, Hugh?” Sandra asked.

  “Yeah. It’s just . . .” I let out a small laugh. “I just don’t understand what the point of having three assistants around is if Arnauld is going to do everything on his own—changing cameras and things like that, I mean.”

  “Oh, well, you see, Arnauld is very controlling, especially when it comes to his equipment. Those are his toys. He calls the cameras mon petit chou,” she said, snickering. “Get it? He calls the cameras darlings. He won’t let any of us touch them. Oh, this church is so pretty!” Sandra exclaimed as she opened the side door of the church and let me in.

  I looked toward the altar and crossed myself as I had been taught when I was a wee lad. I lifted my eyes after bowing in the direction of the altar and took a look around. Sandra was right; the church was pretty. It was small, but cozy. It was as beautiful as I remembered, although now that I was a grown man, I realized I remembered it bigger than it actually was. Even so, I knew that wouldn’t be an issue, because Sam and I both wanted a small wedding.

  The church was simple with bare stone walls and small glass windows depicting the life of Jesus Christ. It wasn’t overly ornate, but it had character.

  I knew this had to be the place.

  I noticed that because of the narrow, gothic style windows, there wasn’t much light. “It’s so dark. Ho
w are we going to take pictures in here?” I asked her.

  “Yeah, I know,” she agreed. “We’re going to need some light in here. I’m going to grab some equipment outside. Wait here, okay?”

  I nodded and started walking around, admiring the space.

  There was something rather solemn about walking around in an empty church, as if you were on the verge of having a private audience with God himself.

  I started noticing small details here and there. There were white flowers on the altar, and similar bouquets with green and blue ribbons decorated the edges of the wooden benches along the nave.

  Maybe they just had a wedding . . . but we had been there for hours and I hadn’t seen anyone come or go. Maybe they had one yesterday. I took a closer look at one of the bouquets: it had small white roses mixed with baby’s breath, lily of the valley, white freesia flowers, and something else I couldn’t recognize.

  Then my eyes fell on the freesia flower again, because it reminded me of Sam. It was one of her favorite flowers.

  I walked back to the altar again, still alone in the church, my stomach in knots for some reason I couldn’t articulate. I wondered if I was going to feel more nervous than I did right then on my wedding day.

  Maybe it was just that being here, in a place I loved, dressed in formal wear, only heightened my desire and eagerness to get married.

  I looked up at the altar, and I stared at the effigy of Christ sitting over the tabernacle. I closed my eyes for a few seconds.

  Everything was so eerily quiet. You could have heard a pin drop.

  Suddenly, I was startled by some noises coming from outside, and I turned around as the doors of the church opened with a loud thud.

  SAM

  Call me an international woman of mystery. For the last two months, I had been planning a wedding under the nose of my unsuspecting fiancé.