Page 2 of Wedding Games
Zoe’s mother, Mary, dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.
‘My darling wee girl, you’re a picture.’
Mary reached for a champagne flute with her free hand and took a large glug, as if hoping additional alcohol would dampen, not amplify the emotional fires set off by wedding dress shopping with her only child.
‘Mum, when have I ever been “wee”?’
Standing at just over five foot ten, with a mop of curly red hair that added at least a couple of inches to her height, Zoe Maxwell had never felt small. That was until she met and fell in love with Rory. Her fiancé was fifty per cent mountain, fifty per cent bear, and one hundred per cent man. Next to him she felt tiny and treasured as well as strong and sexy. With Rory, she felt everything.
Staring at her reflection in the full-length mirror, dressed in an ivory silk gown, she felt a thrill race through her as she remembered the first time they’d ever kissed. She’d been wearing her friend Fiona’s wedding dress as Fiona took pictures of her and Rory for the Kinloch estate website. The aim was to show people what their photos might look like if they chose the castle for their wedding. Everything about the shoot had been respectable. Until the moment Fiona left them alone in a room with a four-poster bed…
‘Are you alright, Miss Maxwell? Is it too tight?’
Zoe fanned her flaming cheeks, trying to waft away the memories that were seared into her soul like a brand. She smiled at the boutique owner. ‘I’m fine, but I’d love to try on another one if possible?’
‘Of course.’ The woman rushed to a large rack at the side of the private changing room. The bridal boutique was opulent, with thick carpets and velvet sofas. It was designed to make any woman feel like royalty, but Zoe could still see the disbelief in the owner’s eyes that the future Countess of Kinloch was buying a dress off the peg. ‘We’ve just had a new delivery of some exclusive designer numbers from Edinburgh,’ she said. ‘With your figure, they’ll be absolutely stunning.’
‘She looks like a model in everything,’ added her mother.
‘That she does,’ the woman agreed. ‘Whatever she chooses, it won’t need any alteration.’
As Zoe slipped into another frock, Mary reached for her handkerchief again.
‘A perfect dress for a perfect day,’ she sighed.
Zoe smiled. Both she and Rory weren’t fussed about having a big wedding. For them, it wasn’t about the event, it was about the result. Rory would have preferred they were married an hour after she accepted his proposal.
But with her parents in London, his mother and step-father in LA, and their friends living around the globe, twenty minutes in a registry office followed by a pub lunch wasn’t going to cut it. And now that she was trying on these magical dresses, she also had to admit she wanted to feel like a princess for a day.
‘Aye, that’s the one,’ exclaimed her mother.
‘You’ve said that about every dress,’ Zoe replied.
‘Och, maybe I have, but they’re all so bonny.’
Zoe gave her mother a look. Mary was born in Kinloch and lived there until her late twenties. After leaving for London, she’d only returned to Scotland three times, and Zoe couldn’t remember her ever using words like ‘aye’, ‘wee’, ‘och’, or ‘bonny’. But since that morning, when she’d flown up to help Zoe choose a dress, she was sounding increasingly Scottish by the minute.
After their appointment at the boutique, they were going to see Morag, Mary’s childhood friend, and spend the rest of the day and evening with her before Mary returned to London the following morning. Her mother hadn’t seen Morag for years. Being back in the Highlands and about to reconnect with her old friend, her accent was also finding its way home.
‘Which dress do you prefer, love?’ her mum asked.
Zoe swished the long skirts. A panel, in tartan, ran from the bodice down to the bottom hem.
‘Would you be able to replace the panel with the MacGinley colours?’ she asked the owner.
‘Of course. We can have it ready in a week if that works for you?’
‘Yes, thank you. And does this dress have one of those hidden buttons so I can dance in it?’
The woman lifted the hem and showed Zoe how to shorten it. ‘Here you go. Now the earl can whirl you around the floor without any accidents.’
Zoe grinned. ‘Sold. I love it.’
Her mother, normally the most down-to-earth woman Zoe knew, squealed like a tween at her first pop concert, then necked the rest of the champagne.
‘Zoe, ma darling, you’re going to be the most beautiful bride in the whole wide world.’
Two hours later,Zoe stepped out of the back door of Morag’s house for some much needed quiet. One summer, as a child, she’d stayed with her great uncle Willie in the cabin where she now lived with Rory. At the time, Morag had been a second mum to her and she’d spent her days running wild with Morag’s children, Fiona and Jamie. As an adult, she became closer to the family, the bond strengthening even further when Jamie began to date her best friend, Sam. Family meals at Morag’s were always loud, but with her mother and Morag drunkenly reminiscing about their youth, Zoe’s eardrums needed a break.
