Page 14 of Bad Luck Vampire

The bride was next. Walking alone and carrying a mixed bouquet of white, pink, and mulberry toned flowers in hand, she was absolutely beautiful. Her hair was down, falling in soft waves around her lovely face, with a crown of flowers on her head just like her daughter wore. Natalie had bypassed the usual long white gown that was traditional for weddings, and instead had gone with a gorgeous white satin and black lace gown. The skirt was white satin with a black lace trim along the inside bottom hem, easily seen since the skirt, like the bridesmaid’s, was asymmetrical with the front reaching just below the knees and then curving down on the sides so that the back drifted across the floor. The bodice of the gown was short sleeved, with a princess scoop neck of black lace over white satin. It was absolutely stunning.

When Natalie reached the steps to the dais, Valerian was there, offering his hand to see her safely up, and the smile the pair exchanged was so full of love it made Sophie’s heart hurt. Valerian didn’t put Mia down for the ceremony as she’d expected, but simply held her and gazed lovingly from the child to the mother even as Natalie did the same.

“They’re so in love,” Sophie whispered as the minister began to speak.

Alasdair grunted what sounded like agreement, and Colle leaned in front of him to tell her, “’Twas the luckiest day o’ his life when Val met Natalie. They were meant for each other.”

Sophie nodded because that seemed obvious from the happiness and love the couple were exuding. Curious, she leaned toward Alasdair and asked, “How long have they known each other?”

He hesitated briefly before saying, “I think it’s been three and a half—”

“Closer to four,” Colle corrected.

“Four,” Alasdair conceded with a nod. “Four weeks tomorrow.”

“Four weeks!” Sophie gasped with disbelief... much more loudly than intended, or at least more loudly than she would have meant to had she not been so shocked. When he’d started with the three and a half business, she’d expected years to follow, not weeks. Surely that would have shocked anyone?

Unfortunately, this was a wedding, where everyone was silent, straining to hear the minister. That silence became deafening after her bellowed words, and absolutely everyone in the tent turned to look at her, including the bride, groom, and minister. Sophie didn’t dare look at Tybo to see how angry he must be at having his date interrupt the ceremony like that.

Face going hot as a poker, and no doubt red as a tomato, Sophie froze for a moment, her brain slow to figure out what the correct course of action was to fix this situation. Then she finally offered an embarrassed and very apologetic smile to the happy couple on the dais and gave a kind of scooting gesture with her fingers, silently begging them to continue the ceremony... and hopefully get the attention off her.

Much to her relief, the bride didn’t appear upset about the rude interruption, in fact she grinned at Sophie and then turned to her almost husband and the couple chuckled then turned back to the priest. The ceremony continued and most of the eyes that had been trained on her shifted to the happy couple again.

Letting her breath out on a sigh, Sophie closed her own eyes and tried to calm herself. God, that was embarrassing. But who the hell married someone four weeks after meeting them?

“Dear, if you slouch any lower in your seat, I fear you will fall on the floor.”

Those gentle words from Marguerite had Sophie’s eyes popping open. She glanced to the woman’s kind face, offered her a crooked smile, and forced herself to sit up in her chair. She hadn’t really realized she’d slunk down in it in an effort to be less visible. Frankly, she’d been hoping the ground would open up and swallow her, but sliding off her chair to the floor was not a good alternative.

Sighing, she glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed her childish actions, but no one seemed to be looking her way anymore. Except for Alasdair. Sitting stiffly upright, his big arms crossed over his even bigger chest, he was eyeing her with twinkling eyes and twitching lips she suspected were fighting a smile. Before she even knew what she was doing, Sophie had stuck her tongue out at him.

Much to her surprise it brought a bark of laughter from the big stoic man... and once again brought a halt to the ceremony as everyone turned to look their way once more. This time, though, they were looking at Alasdair, and while they’d all had surprised expressions when they’d turned at her shouted Four weeks!, they were all now looking absolutely shocked at one little bark of laughter from Alasdair. Honestly, the reaction seemed a little over-the-top to her. They were all acting like the man was a deaf-mute who had never spoken or laughed in his life. She actually felt sorry for him as she watched his face turn red and he made the same finger scooting gesture as she had to urge the ceremony along.

Natalie and Valerian glanced at each other with raised eyebrows, but then turned back to the minister and the ceremony continued, but the man named Lucian suddenly leaned in front of Colle to growl at them, “If you two cannot behave and be quiet, perhaps you should go for a walk so this ceremony can be done. I am hungry and you are delaying my eating.”

Sophie blinked at the words and had to bite back a laugh of disbelief to whisper, “We’ll be quiet. At least I will,” she added, since she had no right to speak for the man beside her.

Alasdair then grunted what she assumed was agreement. Lucian spared a moment to scowl from one to the other of them like they were naughty children, and then sat back in his seat to watch the rest of the ceremony.

Shaking her head, Sophie sat back in her seat and tried to pay attention to what the minister was saying, but honestly, it was kind of boring. He seemed to go on and on for quite a bit about love and God and family, and as he droned on, Sophie found her mind beginning to wander to the fact that both Marguerite and Lucian acted like old folks. She was quite sure that at thirty-one years and ten months–she wasn’t thirty-two yet and would hold on to that fact until it wasn’t true anymore—she was older than both of them. Yet every time Marguerite called her “dear,” she felt like she was being spoken to by her grandma. As for Lucian... well, he acted like the lord of the manor... or God. It was obvious he was used to his word being law.

Weird, she thought, and then the minister’s boring drone was replaced with Natalie’s sweet voice, and Sophie tuned back in to hear what she was saying. It turned out Natalie and Valerian had written their own vows, which were really quite lovely and sweet, and much to her embarrassment actually made her eyes glaze over with tears, especially when Valerian included little Mia in his vows and promised to love and cherish her too. At which point Mia piped up and asked, “And Sinbad?” which made everyone chuckle, including the groom before he promised solemnly, “Yes, and Sinbad.”

The rings were then retrieved from a basket that sat on a harness on the big white dog’s back, and exchanged, including a little one for Mia, which moved Sophie to murmur, “That’s sweet.”

“What is?” Alasdair leaned closer to her to ask in a whisper.

“Mia getting a ring too so she wouldn’t feel left out,” Sophie whispered back, trying to ignore the sensations his nearness stirred in her. Dear God, she was here with Tybo. She had no business getting all squirmy inside because Alasdair’s arm was touching hers, and she could feel his breath on her cheek when he spoke.

“It’s not so she won’t feel left out,” Alasdair informed her quietly. “Mia’s ring has the MacKenzie family crest on it. It’s a formal welcome to the clan.”

“Oh,” Sophie said with surprise, and thought that was even sweeter. Then the bride and groom were pronounced husband and wife, kissed each other, and then each pressed a quick kiss to either side of Mia’s head to finish the ceremony. The guests immediately broke out in smiles and clapping and all stood to watch as the bride, groom, daughter, and dog all started off the dais, followed by Tybo and Jan.

Once the happy couple had cleared the first row, the people seated there began to file out behind them. Their row followed next with Lucian ushering his family along, saying, “Come on, girls, let’s go. Time for food.”

“Dad,” Luka complained. “You always call us ‘girls.’ I’m not a girl.”

“And your mother is a woman not a girl,” Lucian pointed out and then shrugged. “It is easier to say girls than daughter, son, and wife.” When Luka looked less than impressed with this explanation, he snapped, “Just move. I am hungry.”

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