London Tides: A Novel (The MacDonald Family Trilogy Book 2) (19 page)

“I know. Me too. Grab one of those cases?”

Ian took the wine bottles and followed Jamie around back to the kitchen entrance, where the light and heat and clatter spoke to preparations still under way. Jamie went straight to the industrial, walk-in refrigerator and placed the box on the floor next to the others like it.

“This is an improvement,” Ian observed. “A far cry from the little cottage kitchen.”

“We’ll see. Restaurant opens for its first dinner seating next month.”

Ian scanned the kitchen, where several men in white chef jackets prepped the ingredients for the next day’s reception. It was all gleaming tiles and stainless steel, the same standards as Jamie’s restaurant kitchens. He offered his hand. “You’ve done a good job. You
and
Andrea.”

“Thank you.” Jamie shook his hand. “Let’s check in with Jeremy, and then we can get back to our women.”

Of course he would deliver the last bit with a wicked, knowing wink. He was enjoying this turn of events.

To be perfectly honest, so was Ian.º

Chapter Twenty-Two

Grace let herself be drawn into the kitchen with Serena and Andrea. The smell of baking breads coming from the oven and the mess spread over the countertops said they’d already been at it for some time.

“Who’s all this for?” she asked, accepting a mixing bowl from Serena.

“Wedding guests,” Serena said. “The restaurant at the hotel isn’t open yet, and there isn’t much nearby. Mix that together, will you? A dozen or two strokes is all.”

“Serena also seems to think that I need entertainment on the night before my wedding,” Andrea put in, spooning already mixed batter into muffin tins. “Apparently sleep is overrated in this family.”

“Always has been.” Grace smiled. The easy manner between the two other women said that Andrea had been accepted easily into the family.

“You seem pretty familiar with the MacDonalds,” Andrea said, a twinkle in her eye. “You’ve known Ian for a while, then?”

“Oh, I think you know the answer to that.” Grace stirred the batter carefully, scraping flour off the sides of the bowl as she went. “Who’s the designated interrogator?”

“Since I’m technically not a member of this family until tomorrow, I’ll give that honor to Serena.” Andrea winked at her soon-to-be sister-in-law and whisked the muffin tin to the countertop beside the oven.

Grace reached for the floured pan Serena nudged across the counter. “All right. I’m ready. Go.”

Serena laughed. “I haven’t even had time to think up proper questions! Which is probably why Ian didn’t warn us you were coming.”

“Well, if Serena isn’t going to take advantage, I will.” Andrea returned to the island, wiping her hands on a tea towel. “What do you do for a living, Grace?”

Andrea couldn’t have known she’d started with the hardest question. “I’m a photographer, though I’m considering a change. The travel doesn’t appeal to me like it once did.”

“I hear that,” Andrea said. “What discipline?”

“I do some occasional commercial work, but mostly conflict.”

Andrea’s eyebrows lifted. “You’re a war photographer? That’s impressive. Not many women in your field, are there?”

“No. Bit of a boys’ club, that.”

“So, does that mean you’re settling in London, Grace?” Serena’s tone was pleasant, but there was no doubt about the underlying implication.

“That’s exactly what it means. I’m in the interview process for a job right now, but if that doesn’t work out, I’ll have to look for other options in the city.”

“So you’re serious about my brother?”

Grace placed the spoon carefully in the bowl. “I know you’re aware of what went on before—”

“Actually, Ian never said a word,” Serena murmured. “Didn’t speak of it. Just said that the wedding was off and you had gone, and he didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Sounds like Ian.” He wouldn’t have said anything negative about her, even if he thought it. Maybe it was because he thought she would someday come back, and he didn’t want to taint her relationship with his family. But more likely it was because that was the kind of man he was. Kept his thoughts close and his hurts closer, never spoke unkindly about others, even when they deserved it. And she had certainly deserved it.

“Let’s just say I never got over him. And I’m happy that he would consider giving me a second chance. So yes, I’m serious about him.”

“These Scottish lads seem to be good at second chances,” Andrea said, nudging her as she went back to the counter. Grace took that as tacit acceptance.

Serena studied her for a moment across the counter, then softened into a smile. “Well, I’m glad you’re back. Ian’s gotten too somber the last few years. Needs to be livened up a bit. It’s hard to believe there was a time when he was the one out at all hours, and Jamie was the workaholic.”

“Jamie is still a workaholic,” Andrea said. “The man actually wants to open a seventh restaurant in Inverness. As if he doesn’t have enough to do.” But her smile held pride rather than censure. Yes, this woman was a good match.

“Well, I hope you have some time to explore the island while you’re here. Lots of interesting spots for a photographer.” Serena glanced at the wall clock, then threw her towel on the countertop. “Will you keep an eye on the timer? I need to go put Em and Max to bed. It’s getting late.”

“We’ll watch the oven.” Andrea plopped on the stool at one end of the island and crossed one long, slender leg over the other. Grace would have been tempted to hate her if she hadn’t seem so welcoming. She waited until Serena was out of the room and then said, “It’s a little overwhelming, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“Their sheer niceness. I was a hospitality consultant come here for the week, and by the time I left, they’d practically adopted me.” There was something both appreciative and wistful in her tone.

“You have family of your own?” Grace asked.

“A sister, Becky, and her husband and kids. They’re here for the wedding, but they turned in early tonight. Jet lag.”

“No parents?”

“I haven’t spoken to my dad in years.” Andrea looked suddenly far younger and less confident than she had minutes before. “We had a falling out after my mom died, and we just … drifted apart.”

“Sounds familiar,” Grace murmured. “My brother died when I was fourteen, and I’ve not seen my parents since I left home for university.” She hadn’t intended to deliver that personal information to a virtual stranger, but there was something about James’s fiancée that made Grace think she was a kindred spirit. Andrea was clearly happy with her current life, but Grace knew all too well about the scars that even happiness couldn’t erase.

Andrea didn’t try to offer apologies or condolences, she just nodded and began wiping up the batter spills on the counter with a clean towel. “Jamie and I will be back in London after our honeymoon. We should try to have dinner together one night.”

“That would be nice,” Grace said, and she really meant it.

Serena returned not long after, the kids safely tucked into bed, and they swapped several other batches of breakfast breads into the oven. Just as Andrea began yawning into the back of her hand, the front door opened, followed by male voices. “The men are back. And just in time.”

Ian and James came in through the dining room, laughing about something they clearly had no intention of sharing. James went straight to Andrea and wrapped his arms around her from behind. “Ready for me to take you back down? Big day tomorrow.”

“Is it? I’d forgotten.”

Ian nudged Grace. “Come on. They’re going to start up again … We might as well head back to the hotel ourselves.”

“You need a ride, remember?” James bent to kiss Andrea. “Serena, you need any more help here, or do you want me to come up in the morning to bring back all the pastries?”

“They still have to cool, so morning is best.”

Despite the late hour, the sky was still light in the distance, a side effect of Skye’s northern latitude. Ian ushered her out the door, bending to inquire, “So, did they interrogate you?”

“Not really,” Grace whispered back. “They were pretty gentle, all things considered. You?”

“Grilled. Seems rather amused by the whole situation, Jamie does. He rather likes playing the wiser married brother.”

“Almost married.”

“What are you two whispering about?” James came out with Andrea close behind.

“Just saying I hoped that marriage matures you some,” Ian said.

“Not likely. Andrea is the adult here.”

This time both Ian and Grace climbed in the back of the car. As soon as the dome light went off inside, Grace found Ian’s hand on the leather seat beside her and gripped it tightly. She hadn’t even admitted to herself how nervous she was about seeing his family again, but they’d accepted her almost as if she’d never left. She had Ian to thank for that, his maturity in keeping their business to himself.

James pulled up in front of the cottages on the opposite side of the hotel car park, then switched off the engine. “I’m going to take Andrea to her cottage, and then I’ll be up. I’m in room 6 if you need anything. Your room keys will open the front door in the meantime.”

Ian and Grace retrieved their bags from the Healey’s boot before returning to the hotel. Grace sighed as they climbed the stairs to their rooms. “It really is beautiful here. Do you ever think about moving back?”

“Never. Too many memories. Some good, some bad. It would be a nice place for a family, though.”

Grace’s steps slowed as they reared up on a topic they hadn’t yet discussed. The night before James’s wedding was hardly the right time to have this conversation, especially not in the hallway of the hotel, but she wouldn’t be able to sleep if she didn’t ask. “Does that mean you’ve changed your mind? About children?”

Ian paused, his expression as stricken as she imagined hers was. “Have I changed my mind about not wanting any? Grace … no. I’ve not changed my mind.”

The energy went out of her in a rush of relief. “Thank God.”

Relief sparked in his eyes. “You weren’t asking because—”

“Because I’d changed my mind about having them? No. Heavens no. I just—we were young when we discussed it. People reevaluate. And when I see how good you are with your niece and nephew, it almost seems a shame for you not to have any of your own.”

“Our pasts haven’t changed, Grace. Nor has my reasoning. I love children; I just can’t do it. I like London. I like city life. And when I see how badly my parents balanced that—”

“You don’t need to explain to me. I just didn’t want to worry all weekend that I might disappoint you.”

He slid his hand behind her neck to tilt her face to his. “As long as you’re here with me, you could never disappoint me.”

Their good-night kiss was sweet and slow and tender, but it still ignited a warmth in her that demanded an answer. She pulled back. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow. You in a dress.”

“And you in a kilt.”

“One will be more impressive than the other, for sure.”

Grace winked at him. “You do have good knees.”

“And now you’re delusional. Good night, Grace.”

She shut the door between them, then retreated to her lovely hotel room, a different kind of warmth blooming in her chest. Here, surrounded by his family, she could finally envision their future together.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Ian woke to the summons of sunrise through his hotel-room curtains. He would have liked to believe it was just his body’s internal clock waking him for his usual outing, but it was more likely the knowledge his sister would kill him if he wasn’t up at the house first thing to help Jamie. Or perhaps it was the twist of anxiety over the idea of Marjorie and Grace being in close proximity. They’d both be polite, of course, for the sake of the occasion, but he wouldn’t put it past his mother to throw a few jabs Grace’s way.

After he dressed and set out his clothes for the ceremony, Ian found himself standing outside Grace’s room, his fist poised to knock. But not a rustle or thump came from inside to indicate she was awake. After yesterday’s marathon drive, she’d probably not thank him for rousing her out of bed so early. Instead he continued outside, digging his car keys from his pocket as he went.

He might be the only one awake inside the guesthouse, but preparations were well under way outside. A vast white tent had gone up in the meadow, with half a dozen workers setting out tables and chairs for the reception. Nearer, another group lined up chairs on either side of a carpeted aisle.

The scene up at the house was equally busy. Muriel stood in the center of her reception room, directing the activity with the steely aplomb of a field marshal while chaos spilled from every angle. Boxes of flowers and decorations. Baskets of cellophane-covered baked goods. And two overexcited children getting under the helpers’ feet as much as possible.

“What’s this?” Ian asked, stepping over Max, who was sprawled inexplicably in the middle of the rug.

“Ian!” Muriel made her way to him and squeezed him into a bone-breaking hug. “I’m so pleased you’re here. Can you drive the flower arrangements down to the tent?”

“Of course.” He looked her over carefully, but besides the slight shadows beneath her eyes, there was nothing to indicate cause for concern. Her silver hair was as impeccably coiffed as usual, her pantsuit pressed, if slightly looser than he remembered. “Why exactly is everything up here and not down at the hotel?”

“Paparazzi. ‘Sullivan-MacDonald Wedding’ brings them out of the woodwork, but no one cares about a simple garden party at his unknown aunt’s place.” She waved a hand. “Malcolm, dear, help Ian with the arrangements?”

Malcolm? Ian frowned as an unfamiliar man straightened from where he was placing vases of flowers in boxes. He was shorter than Ian, with a muscular, stocky build. A leather jacket and scruffy beard gave him an almost disreputable air. But when he fixed his attention on Ian, he offered a hand and a friendly smile.

“Malcolm Blake.”

“Ian MacDonald.” Ian shook his hand, noting the man’s hard grip and the bruises on his knuckles. Boxer? Or brawler? And who was he to be standing in his aunt’s living room?

Evidently Malcolm caught Ian’s confusion. “I’m the new hotel manager. And bartender. And handyman.”

“The engineer?”

“So they tell me. Shall I give you a hand?”

Ian grinned suddenly. Leave it to Andrea to hire a bartender-handyman who looked as if he belonged in a boxing ring but was actually a engineer. And no surprise that Muriel seemed to have adopted him like a son. That’s what his aunt did.

“I’d appreciate it.”

Malcolm hefted one of the heavy crates of flower arrangements, then waited for Ian to lead him out the door to the Healey. “I don’t technically start until next week, but there have been some problems with the reservation system.”

“And Muriel borrowed you for wedding duty.”

He shrugged. “Glad to do it. Computer problem was a simple fix anyway. Just a script-handling error.”

So he really was an engineer, or at least somewhat technical. Ian opened the boot of the car to make room for the boxes. “These are all there are?”

Malcolm nodded and flashed an amused smile. “I’d offer to take them down with you, but I’m under strict instructions not to let Muriel overdo it.”

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 of 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 him. “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 which 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 draping 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 were gathering 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.