Sealed with a Christmas Kiss Read online

  For Mae, my favourite niece

  Contents

  1 An Island Wedding

  2 Catastrophe

  3 A Falling Out

  4 Roddy’s Mistake

  5 Moving Backwards

  6 Gin and Tonic Therapy

  7 The Return of Bridezilla

  8 Sealed with a Christmas Kiss

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Also by Rachael Lucas

  1

  An Island Wedding

  The first snowflakes whirling outside Duntarvie House were already settling on the stone lions in the courtyard. Looking out at the perfect winter scene, Kate was perched against the Aga, still-frozen hands wrapped around a mug of tea.

  ‘If we could make this weather last until Christmas Eve, it would be perfect.’ Kate shivered with excitement, as much as with the cold.

  ‘You need to get yourself warmed up, young lady.’ Jean, housekeeper and grande dame of Duntarvie, tossed a crochet blanket across the table to Kate. She was clearing up a pile of papers from one end of the huge oak table, stacking them haphazardly together and plonking them onto the dresser.

  ‘Jean, you haven’t just put all those council applications in a heap, have you – oh.’ As if he was able to see through the door from his study and into the kitchen, Roderick’s voice was heard, followed a moment later by the sound of footsteps.

  ‘Ah, you’re back.’ Dropping a kiss on Kate’s forehead (‘you’re freezing, darling – I’ll run you a bath in a second’), the Laird of Auchenmor looked across at Jean with a mock-disapproving expression.

  ‘Roddy, if you will leave all this stuff lying about when you’ve got a perfectly good study through there, I’m going to put it out of the way when we’re about to have lunch. Now would you pass me over some soup bowls from the dresser there, please?’

  With the resigned expression of a man who knew his place, Roderick lifted the crockery out of the dresser, pausing only for a moment to cast a double-checking eye over the vital paperwork.

  ‘Everything organized for tomorrow?’

  Kate nodded. She couldn’t talk, because halfway through slicing some of Jean’s gorgeous home-made bread to go with the soup, she’d sneaked in a test slice, and the only noises she was capable of making were muffled sounds of agreement.

  ‘Good. This is going disturbingly smoothly, isn’t it?’ Roderick’s expression was one of surprise. The plan to launch Duntarvie House as a romantic wedding venue had hurtled from a notion they’d discussed over breakfast in bed to reality far faster than they’d expected.

  ‘Well, considering we’d been planning to start things off next summer, not now, yes.’ Kate looked at Jean with a smile. She had been a brilliant support when they’d presented her with the idea, throwing herself into preparing the grand reception rooms of Duntarvie House for weddings, and coping with the arrival of the builders and surveyors who were detailed with ensuring that the ancient house met modern Health and Safety standards.

  Jean dished out the soup into three bowls, and they sat down together at the table.

  ‘Well, I’d be telling fibs if I said it wasnae a bit of a shock to the system having to go from running this place with just Roddy pottering around to turning it into a show house – but I’d rather be on the go than taking early retirement.’ She shuddered at the words.

  ‘I think we should raise a toast,’ Roddy picked up his glass with an affectionate look at Jean. ‘To the three of us, and to Duntarvie House weddings.’

  ‘Cheers.’ Kate watched as they drank, thinking as she did how good – and how right – it felt to call Duntarvie House home.

  Considering she’d arrived on the island of Auchenmor to work as a Girl Friday just over a year ago – and had in that time overseen the conversion of derelict farm buildings into holiday cottages as well as setting up a thriving seal and marine research post – it wasn’t surprising that she occasionally felt like she’d turned up, the English outsider, and changed the safe, comfortable way that the Duntarvie Estate had been run forever. Island life had changed Kate, too. She’d learned to slow down, and through trial and error (and there had been plenty of both) she’d learned to trust her own judgement. And now she was being pushed forward as the one behind this new idea. It had been greeted by most of the islanders with open arms. But change always comes at a cost, and she’d heard the occasional muttering when she popped into the island’s main town, Ardmannan, for shopping. Not everyone was keen on the island being ‘full of incomers turning up here and no’ spending a penny in the town, taking themselves off to the Big House and spending their money there’.

  Stung by the comment she’d overheard in the local butcher, she’d made a point of writing an article for the local paper explaining the plans they had for Duntarvie House, including a rather over-detailed explanation of her plan for the weddings to use locally sourced products wherever possible. Roderick, with what she felt was a flash of to-the-manor-born arrogance, had told Kate she was massively over-thinking everything as usual. She’d realized there was a truth in what he said – she was still prone to worrying long into the night, concerned the islanders would turn against her and close ranks. Roddy seemed to have an inbuilt confidence – sometimes Kate felt she was on the outside, looking in. But their friends Susan and Tom had cheered her out of her mood and poured her another large glass of wine, Susan teasing Roddy about being stuck up and out of touch.

  A few weeks back, when Kate’s friend Sian from university had called with a wheedle in her voice, she’d known something was up. It turned out that word travelled fast in the wedding world, and as editor of a brand new wedding website, Sian had seen the perfect opportunity for them to work together.

  ‘You’ve got a brand new wedding venue, darling, and I’m launching a brand new wedding website . . . we’re a perfect match!’

  Texting her best friend Emma, who knew Sian of old, Kate felt a lurch of panic in her stomach.

  Ferry approaching loaded with Sian and her latest harebrained scheme. Have I lost the plot completely?

  Emma’s reply flashed back straight away.

  Rather you than me. She might have improved with age?

  Perhaps, thought Kate, dubiously, as an excited Sian clattered down the stairs and onto the harbour at Kilmannan. Before she knew what was happening, Kate was driving her through the town towards Duntarvie House.

  ‘This is perfection!’

  Sian’s camera whirred and clicked as she hung out of the window of the Land Rover. Kate found herself slowing up on the corners in case her friend shot out sideways into the sea. The wind was bitterly cold, but Sian seemed oblivious. She was entranced by the beauty of the island. Kate smiled to herself, remembering her first trip along this road. To think that not even eighteen months had passed – and now she lived here, part of the fabric of the island community, caught up in lifeboat fundraisers and charity coffee mornings.

  ‘It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?’ Kate indicated left out of habit, although the road was empty as ever, and they turned into the long drive towards Duntarvie House. The rhododendrons were still wild, but the worst of the potholes on the driveway had been repaired, so the overall impression was of an artfully unkempt rather than dilapidated stately home. Or at least that’s what we keep telling ourselves, thought Kate, as they lurched over an unexpected bump.

  ‘It’s very . . . rural.’ Sian turned to Kate, putting the camera down at last.

  ‘We’re not trying for perfect – we’re aiming for posh shabby chic.’

  ‘Ah, well, plenty of time to get the road sorted out, but the whole atmosphere is perfect, really – oh!’

  Ignoring the road comment while making a me
ntal note to get Billy out to do some more tarmac patching, Kate stopped the car at the entrance to the courtyard and allowed her friend to take in the beauty of Duntarvie House.

  In the autumn sunshine the stones seemed to glow, and the ornate detailing of the crenellated rooftops stood out against an almost Californian-blue sky. It really was a beautiful place to live and work.

  Sian leapt out of the car, camera in hand.

  ‘Sod the bumpy road, this place couldn’t be more perfect.’

  Smiling to herself, Kate parked the Land Rover, waited patiently whilst Sian took what seemed like another two hundred photographs, and then invited her inside.

  ‘I’m trying to send these, but the signal is awful!’ Sian hadn’t stopped from the moment she got off the boat. A whirling dervish of phone and camera and sunglasses, she was still working on London time. Now the island’s notoriously dodgy phone signal had given her pause at last.

  Kate took a breath and smiled, hoping to pass on some calm. ‘Yes, we don’t really get much reception on this side of the house. If you go round to the front, you will – and you’ll get five bars if you stand up in the tower. But you get used to it. And there’s always Wi-Fi.’

  ‘How on earth d’you get anything done?’ Sian was still waving her phone around hopefully.

  ‘We manage,’ said Jean crisply, appearing from the darkness of the kitchen corridor. One whiff of criticism of Duntarvie House and her hackles were up, and somehow she had a sixth sense.

  Kate took Sian’s coat, hanging it up on the rack in the hall. She’d better smooth over the waters quickly: this afternoon’s meeting would take twice as long if she had to factor in placating a defensive Jean.

  ‘So let me tell you what I’m thinking.’ Sian reached across the table, helping herself to a couple of fingers of Jean’s still-warm shortbread.

  ‘We’ve got tietheknot.com ready to go, and we’ve run a giveaway on our sister website, handmade-heaven.com. It’s all super-cool vintage stuff – you would love it. We were all set for a dream wedding at Hamilton House down in the Scottish Borders, but then there was a fire – the place isn’t going to be ready for months.’ Sian gave a shrug. ‘Maddy and Leo, that’s our couple – totally gorgeous, by the way – were all set for launch. Course, you can imagine how I felt, having to try and find somewhere at the last minute. Christmas wedding venues are booked up years in advance.’

  Kate nodded, knowing that much from the research she’d done into turning Duntarvie House from a slightly chilly island castle into the most enticing wedding location possible. Trouble was, there was a lot more work to be done before next spring, when they could safely declare themselves open for business. They had to get the place up to scratch to pass the stringent Health and Safety regulations required, and they still hadn’t had the results back from the surveyor . . .

  ‘Kate?’ Sian gave her a little nudge. ‘You still listening?’

  Kate gave a nod. Sian’s monologue continued.

  ‘And then I heard on the grapevine you’d not only snagged yourself a millionaire landowner – ’

  Hardly, thought Kate, pulling a wry face.

  – ‘but you’ve got yourself the perfect new life and you’re setting up as a wedding venue, and that’s where I come in. Duntarvie House is the perfect Christmas venue.’

  ‘But we’ve only just started the process. I thought you were coming here to do a behind-the-scenes feature on developing a wedding venue?’ Kate felt a bit sick. They were covering Sian’s expenses, and she’d insisted on flying to Glasgow instead of catching the train. It felt like a disaster was beginning to unfold.

  ‘I was.’ Sian’s face brightened into a smile, showing cat-like teeth. ‘But I realized what a blessing it was for us that Hamilton House went up in flames.’

  Kate opened her mouth, and closed it again in shock. She’d forgotten that Sian’s drive could often smother the tiny amount of tact that she had.

  ‘You need publicity. We’re going to be everywhere this Christmas. I promise you, you’ll have bookings coming out of your ears . . . ’

  It had taken a fair bit of persuading to convince Roddy that she wasn’t completely mad and that they could tick the requisite building safety boxes within three months, but the opportunity seemed too good to miss. Jean, despite her misgivings about Sian (‘She’s a right wee madam, if you ask me’), was eager to help Kate, and they’d managed to make the place respectable enough – at least on the surface – for a wedding to take place. If they could just get the photos done for Sian’s site, and get a handful of bookings, they could concentrate for the early months of the new year on making sure the place was a perfect venue.

  Kate’s toes were freezing cold. Roddy’s habit of sleeping with the window open all year round was insane, and she curled herself up against his still-sleeping form.

  ‘Your feet!’ He woke with a roar, jumping sideways out of bed. Kate giggled.

  ‘I can’t help it if you insist on behaving as if you’re still at boarding school. We could actually have a warm bedroom like normal people, y’know.’

  ‘Hang on, I’ll get the fire going again in a second, if you’re really that cold, darling.’

  ‘And shut the window?’

  ‘And the window.’ He strode across the bedroom, apparently impervious to the cold, clad only in a pair of cotton pyjama bottoms. Snuggling down under the covers, Kate looked on as he bent to the fire, coaxing it back to life in moments. Living together definitely had its advantages.

  ‘Come back to bed. I need some good old-fashioned warming up . . . ’

  Roderick turned, giving her a look of such affection and love that she hugged herself with a little smug smile. Everything really was perfect – even the bad bits, like dealing with paperwork and making the estate books balance, didn’t seem so bad when the end result was curling up in a bedroom with turrets and a roaring log fire. And it was Saturday, and today she was doing nothing more strenuous than driving down into Kilmannan. Bliss.

  Roderick slid into bed beside her, his hands cool on her back.

  ‘So you’re catching the happy couple off the boat this morning?’

  ‘And giving them a tour of the island, yes. And then we’re coming back here for lunch, and they’re staying over in the four-poster room.’ It was hard to talk with his fingers running up and down her spine, putting her off.

  ‘I’m supposed to be thinking about work, Roddy . . . ’

  He kissed her shoulder, a laugh in his voice. ‘I’m not stopping you.’

  ‘And there’s a big lasagne to go in the Aga, we’ve got cranachan for pudding, and I’ve invited a few of the others round for a drink.’ This was said in a rush. Working in bed wasn’t at all practical.

  ‘Well,’ Roddy’s voice was amused, ‘if we get them a bit merry, maybe they won’t notice their wedding venue is more dilapidated than designer.’

  A couple of hours later, Kate stood by the harbour wrapped in a huge fleece, jeans tucked into wellingtons, her dark curls still damp. She’d planned to get up and make herself suitably glamorous, but instead she’d hurtled out of bed at the last minute, jumped into the shower, and then put her foot down on the road towards town, only easing off as she saw the ferry coming into sight. It was running a bit late, thankfully. She shivered in the cold air, flurries of snow hitting her in the face as the wind whipped in off the sea. She watched as the ferry docked, surprised as ever by the speed and grace of its arrival as it was guided round into position. For a moment she felt herself wishing the boat doors would open and Emma would climb out, hair blowing in the wind. The one thing she really missed about Cambridge life was her best friend, who, what with twin stepdaughters and a newborn baby, just couldn’t get away.

  You okay?

  As if she’d read Kate’s mind, Emma’s message flashed up on her phone screen.

  Spooky. Just thinking about you. Fine, waiting for Mr and Mrs Perfect Wedding to arrive.

  Ooh, I want ALL the gossip. Call me when
you get a chance?

  That goes without saying. Off to do my Lady of the Manor bit. Big kiss x

  Seeing the harbourmen start to attach the stairs to the side of the ferry, Kate realized with a panic that she couldn’t remember who she was looking out for. Did the bride-to-be have red hair, or was that him? Oh God.

  She scrolled through emails on her phone, trying to find the message from Sian with the photograph of Maddy and Leo attached. She wanted to look confident and businesslike and in control, and it’d help if she knew who she was looking out for.

  There it was. Maddy looked sweet, her heart-shaped freckled face surrounded by long strawberry-blonde hair. She was beaming up at Leo, who was a head taller than her, dark-haired, grinning into the camera. They looked like the perfect couple. Taking on Sian’s idea had been a huge risk – but this morning, suffused with love and full of happiness herself, Kate thought it seemed like the perfect plan. She could just imagine the photographs of the tiny, beautiful Maddy set against the huge, imposing stone of Duntarvie House, and she’d look gorgeous sitting in her wedding dress in the snow on one of the stone lions . . .

  Lost in a daydream, Kate didn’t hear the clang of metal and rope as the ferry came in, nor the sound of footsteps as her guests approached.

  ‘Kate?’

  She looked up, straight into the eyes of a tall, dark-haired man.

  ‘Ooh.’ She squeaked with surprise. Not sophisticated, Kate, she thought to herself. Great start.

  He held out his hand. ‘Leo Jackson.’

  He was surprisingly formal, especially in comparison to his fiancée, who was virtually bouncing on the spot with excitement.

  ‘I’m Maddy, and this is Leo. I can’t believe it’s actually snowing, can you?’ Her accent was Scottish, but very slight. She was even more beautiful than her photograph, freckles on alabaster-white skin, and lips – or lipstick – a beautiful rose red. She looked, Kate thought, like a fairy-tale heroine.