Carolina and Drake walked away under the intricately designed pavilion, which guided them to the back lawn of Airgead and to the loch.
“MacCraig.” Ethan stretched out his hand to greet Alistair. “Congratulations.”
Christ! What happened to you, Ashford? “Thanks, Ashford. Did you have a good trip?”
Ethan’s navy tailored suit paired with a Gucci navy tie couldn’t hide that he had lost weight and that his eyes were unlit, depressed.
“Yeah, thanks. It was kind of you to have the airstrip and heliport available for the guests.” Ethan had had a serious talk with his image in the mirror while he shaved and got dressed for Sophia’s wedding this morning. But nothing could scare away the sadness that was etched in his face and voice. “You remember my friend, Paola.”
“Of course.” Alistair nodded at the beautiful woman, not really paying attention to her. Sophia was the only woman that occupied his thoughts. “How are you?”
Paola smiled at him and said, “Congratulations on your wedding. Your place is amazing. And the decoration is stunning.”
“Yeah. Really impressive,” Ethan muttered, taking in the orchestra playing classical music and the amazing flower arrangements of white roses and orange blossoms in tall cylindrical vases. White rose petals were scattered alongside the aisles and around the vases. I wish I were in your place, MacCraig. “Nervous?”
What do you think? “Not really.” Aye, it’s an everyday achievement to marry a woman like Sophia.
Cheer up, Ashford. Don’t show your feelings. “You lucky bastard.” He eyed Alistair with a smile on his worn face. “You take care of her.”
“I will, believe me,” Alistair answered, with a smile on his lips. Fuck, Ashford. Why do you insist on hounding Sophia? “By the way, thanks for the painting. Sophia loved it.” You son of a bitch. Now she will remember you every time she looks at that fucking thing. He raised an eyebrow. “It was a wild guess, if I may say.”
Wild guess? You still don’t know your bride’s tastes? “On the contrary. I know that you and Sophia like art. So I thought a painting would be a great gift.” His voice had a tone of longing. She loved it when she saw it the first time we made love. “You decided to marry quite hastily, no?” Is she pregnant?
“Do you think?” Alistair looked again at the Patek Phillip Sky Moon Tourbillion Sophia had given him as a wedding gift. Christ! Eleven thirty. It’s almost time. He raked his hand through his hair nervously and looked at the closed doors of the castle. “Well, thanks again. It was very generous of you.”
So clueless, MacCraig. Ethan gazed seriously at Alistair. “Sophia is the one who is generous and special. She deserves the best life can bring her. Again, I wish you happiness.” Make her unhappy and you’ll rue the day you were born.
Sophia is the key to my happiness. Alistair watched with a frown as Paola and a dispirited Ethan walked to the chapel, sitting in the third pew.
A thought struck his heart like an arrow. That’s what losing Sophia does to a man. Ruination.
Chapter 26
England, Oxfordshire
Le Manoir aux Quat’Saisons
Saturday, July 15, 1996
9:39 p.m.
Le Manoir was set in a fifteenth century old manor house with its own extensive grounds close to the center of Oxford. The gorgeously appointed gardens and meticulously maintained manor house had all of Ethan’s closest friends and teachers gasping from the moment they came into view as they arrived for the party Niarchos was throwing to celebrate Ethan’s graduation with First Class Honors.
The wood paneled private dining room, La Belle Époque, bustled with laughter and crystal clinking.
Niarchos ate the delicate Scottish langoustine tartare and observed with a sharp eye the expertly orchestrated service, refilling wine glasses and serving the entrées. Everything was exactly the way he had requested.
Plots and subplots formed in Niarchos’s mind as the evening passed and he observed Ethan and his guests and reviewed his plans to turn his grandson into one of the most important and influential men in the world.
At twenty-three, Ethan was very different from the thin, wide-eyed, depressed teenager that had arrived in Greece. No one would be able to overlook Ethan now.
Niarchos had polished Ethan into a handsome and confident man.
Or so he thought.
11:32 p.m.
“Grandpa,” Ethan approached Niarchos, who was smoking a cigar in the inner garden.
Niarchos smiled, proud of his grandson, the most special person in his life. “Where is your girlfriend?”
“She has already retired.”
“This place is amazing, isn’t it?” Niarchos dragged on his Cuban cigar.
“Yes, everyone was impressed. With the hotel, the gardens. With the superb food.”
“First impressions count, Ethan. Remember that every day.”
Ethan nodded and shoved his hands in the pockets of his tailored trousers.
“I want to thank you, Grandpa.” There was a bitter sweet taste in his mouth. A lingering hurt that still made it difficult for him to thank his grandfather. “For my studies and for this party. Thank you. For everything.”
“You don’t have to thank me, Ethan. Everything I own is yours.” Niarchos lounged on the bench with an expression of pleased speculation, puffing a cloud of smoke in the warm air. “Have you thought about my offer?”
Ethan rocked back in his heels. “Yes, I did. The thing is, Grandpa, I’d love to study more. Maybe—”
“My son, there are opportunities that can’t be missed. And this is one of them.” Niarchos looked intently at the burning end of his cigar, the orange flaring in the night. “Aside from excelling in the academic world—which you already have by graduating brilliantly—you have to make your way in the business world.”
Ethan had a feeling he wasn’t going to like where this was going, but waited for his grandfather to get to the point.
“Look, Ethan, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re wasting your time here. You’re my heir, to a multi-million dollar fortune, and you’re very obstinate at everything you put your mind to, so I’m sure you’ll succeed in business. Your bank account has been replenished. I’ve bought you a nice penthouse in Park Lane and there’s a brand new Ferrari waiting for you in the garage.”
He’s bribing me. Ethan sat on the bench beside his grandfather. He looked up at the dark sky that mirrored his sinking mood. Is that the only way to get people to do what we want? Can money buy everything?
Niarchos went on, “I’m an old man and I don’t have many years. I—”
“Don’t say that, Grandpa,” Ethan gasped and his heart clenched at the idea of being alone in the world. Niarchos was his only family, his only friend, the only person he could confide in, despite what had happened. He didn’t need reality slapping him in the face.
Niarchos smiled gently. “Ethan, I love you more than anything in the world. Let me use my last years to make a difference in your life. You can’t waste your precious life hiding behind books and your studies.”
Ethan frowned, confused at those words. “By hiding do you mean that I’m not living my life? I love to study. It’s one of the things that gives me the most pleasure.”
Niarchos shook his head. “This is commendable and beautiful, Ethan. However, to succeed in life you have to be ruthless. Shyness and beguiling ways only incites predators.”
For some reason, that statement rubbed him raw. “Are you saying that by being who I am I provoked what happened in my life?” With Calista? With Eve? I’m no more guilty than you, Grandpa.
Tension rippled between them.
Niarchos glanced at Ethan before putting a soothing hand over his fist. “I could have spoken with more care, but that would not change the heart of the problem, my son.”
So, I have to bend to your will again. Many seconds passed in silence before Ethan unclenched his hands. He drew a long breath, summoning reason back into his mind. An
y enjoyment he’d had during dinner had trickled away. “All right, Grandpa. Tell me your plans.” This is the last time, Grandpa. No one is going to order me around again. I’m going to best you so I can do whatever I want.
Niarchos glanced at him, surprised by his lack of enthusiasm. “In life, things are not as we like them to be, but as they should be. With money and power, come enormous responsibilities. Responsibilities with your employees, those who depend on you, with your legacy, and finally, the ones you love. We are not free to do what we want anymore. Each step has to be measured and planned. You have to understand this. I can’t let you waste yourself. Rest assured I’m doing this for your own good, Ethan.”
Airgead Caisteal
Saturday, August 7, 2010
11:50 a.m.
Mull of Kintyre played by bagpipers, drums and the orchestra made Alistair’s heart stop beating for a second and rush into a loud gallop.
He stood there, rooted to the ground, having forgotten what he was supposed to do.
“Brother.” In a second, Tavish was beside him, whispering, “Doona you dare faint on us. Come on, breathe.”
Fuck, Alistair Connor. Don’t be missish. He inhaled loudly. “I need a whisky.”
Leonard appeared on Alistair’s other side and waved for a waiter, grabbed a glass of whisky and shoved it in his hand. “Drink, Alistair. Before you pass out like a girl in the middle of your wedding.”
“I hope he does faint. Then I can marry Sophia in his place.” Tavish winked at Leonard.
Alistair rolled his eyes heavenward and drank it all in a gulp, shaking his head as it burned all the way to his stomach.
“You have the rings?” Leonard asked to distract him.
Alistair nodded and patted his sporran as he watched the guests taking their places.
“Do you need to sit?” Tavish’s voice showed his concern.
Aye. “Nae.” Alistair cleared his throat. “There is no need. Let’s do this.”
“Yeah, let’s do this.” Leonard snorted, adjusting the sleeves of his gray single-breasted morning coat.
“It’s a great sacrifice to marry Sophia,” Tavish smirked ironically and pushed Alistair toward Alice at the end of the catwalk. “Take your place.”
Alice, in a dark-green tiffany dress by Marquesa, was stunning. Her long red hair was arranged in a simple ponytail under a scandalous Beetlejuice inspired hat with feathers by Philip Treacy. She complemented the ensemble with a marvelous emerald necklace and matching earrings. “Ready, brother?”
“Aye,” he murmured, determined.
“I don’t think so.” She grinned at him, her face full of mischief, signaling for the pipers to stop and for the orchestra to start their song. “It’s not every day we have Andrea Bocelli and Celine Dion singing your favorite romantic song for us.”
Alistair quirked an eyebrow at Alice.
“Can’t Help Falling In Love With You,” she answered his mute question with a smile.
No need to be anxious. This is nothing special. You have been married before. No need to be nervous. Alistair repeated the words in a litany, unexpectedly incapable of controlling his feelings.
Alice put her hand on his offered arm and lightly squeezed as she delicately lead him on a steady and slow walk.
“Slowly. This song is only for you,” she whispered.
My Heart Will Go On brought Lachlann and Angelica, Tavish and Carolina, Edward with Victoria, and Leonard with Valentina, who would later leave with Felipe.
Ariadne and Gabriela, wearing lovely pale-rose organza full-length dresses with white silk sashes on their waists and huge bows on their backs, appeared as soon as Tale As Old As Time began.
Christ! Not that Beast again. Alistair breathed in and out discretely, looking for a distraction from his nerves. He smiled down at a beaming Gabriela, who was throwing white petals she took from a white basket, as she made her way to the altar.
The music stopped.
The guests held their breaths with great anticipation while the enormous double doors of the castle opened slowly when the orchestra played the first chords of Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol.
Alistair’s heart was pounding so fast and hard that it felt like he had a military drum in his chest.
Her head held high, bearing one of his mother’s crowns, Sophia appeared from the dark entrance of the castle on Felipe’s arm.
She wore no veil and carried no bouquet.
As Alistair’s breath caught in his throat, the breath the guests had been holding transformed into murmurs heard all around the chapel.
He squinted his eyes and peered at the congregation only to see that the male guests’ stares were envious.
Then Alistair looked at Victoria, in awe of her talent and smiled. She blew him a kiss, her brows wiggling.
Her slender neck and her shoulders were exposed as her long raven hair was braided and tied up high on her head. She was wearing the magnificent necklace and earrings he had given her that matched her engagement ring.
Her gown was diaphanous, made of the finest and most delicate silver threaded Gauzy Chantilly lace on a very pale-rose background the same shade of her skin. A sheer bodice of silver Gauzy Chantilly lace with fitted long sleeves had tiny embroidered flowers of the same lace. The skirt was made of asymmetrical layers of pale-rose organza, with the same tiny flowers of silver lace scattered over it. It fell to the ground in a soft A shape, and the right amount of flair, floating around as she moved.
My personal ray of sun. For Alistair, in that moment, she was the incarnation of love.
He loves you. You love him. Sophia chanted the words in her head, but they didn’t lessen her trembling as she descended the stairs and walked down the aisle.
Never in her life had Sophia felt so nervous. She clutched Felipe’s arm and tried to smile a couple of times, but gave up. All she could do was breathe and count her paces to move steadily forward.
The white flower arrangements and the colorfully dressed guests were no more than blurs as she walked by. All she could feel was Alistair’s warm and possessive gaze calling her to him.
Reaching his side, she took a deep breath taking in his masculine scent. Their eyes met and she saw in his the same nervousness and need.
She felt anticipation streak through her and she remembered him quoting Dante when they first met, ‘It’s the spark before the flame’.
“Alistair,” Felipe greeted Alistair and put Sophia’s hand in his, “she is a precious jewel. You take care of her.”
Jesus Christ! How many more are going to tell me this? He noted her ribs expand as she inhaled deeply and raised her eyes to him. His forest-green eyes met her light yellow-diamond ones and locked.
Holding both of her freezing hands in his, he whispered, amazed by the song she had chosen and remarking from it, “You need nothing else but me?”
Her lips trembled in a smile and she nodded.
“So let’s forget the world?” he asked.
She shook her head now with a small smile in her lips.
He quirked an eyebrow and grinned teasingly at her. “Are you going to just nod when Father Bruce asks you to repeat your vows?” He nodded his head. “Like this?”
“Those three words will never be enough,” was her hoarse reply.
“Better.” He stepped closer to her, and his fingers curled around her wrists, bringing them to his chest. “Nervous?”
“Are you?” she asked as she nodded, confirming what everyone could see.
“All I can promise is not to faint,” he sneered.
She grinned then. “God forbid.”
Valentina, Victoria, Felipe, and Edward were chuckling as Alistair and Sophia chatted completely absorbed in each other. The priest looked at the rabbi and cleared his throat.
“I brought two handkerchiefs in case you decided to cry.” He laughed when she opened her hand and showed a frilly lacy handkerchief wrung in her fist.
His smoothed a hand over her lace-covered back, spreading
his fingers on the small of her back, and stopping dangerously near her buttocks. “Are you trying to entice the male guests?”
Lachlann coughed, disguising a laugh, and Angelica didn’t even try to conceal hers.
“Only you,” she sighed, stepping closer. Her arm wrapped around his waist. “Was I successful?”
The rabbi cleared his throat louder than the priest did before.
“I don’t have words to describe how stunning you look.” His hand pressed her closer.
She raised her face to his. “Aren’t you disappointed I didn’t choose white?”
“Sophia. You could never disappoint me. Your real beauty resides inside you. Your soul is so pure that it is white,” he declared to her, his face bending.
She rose on her tiptoes. “And you are the most handsome Scottish groom I’ll ever see.”
“Lad! Lass!” Father Bruce shouted.
They were startled and looked up from each other as discreet laughter could be heard around the chapel.
“Sorry, Father,” they said in unison and gazed at each other again, grinning.
The priest mumbled something under his breath and started the service.
“In the presence of God and these witnesses, I, Alistair Connor Davenport MacCraig, take thee, Sophia, the light of my life, my own sun, to be my wedded wife, from this day forward until my last breath, promising to trust you with all the faith in my spirit, to have you with all the hope in my soul, and to worship you with all the love in my heart.” He grinned at her while he slid the wedding band on her finger, his forest-green eyes holding so much love that Sophia could no longer stop the tears.
“Come on, Wife. Stop crying,” he ordered, his pristine white handkerchief drying her face.
She smiled at him through her tears. “I never promise to obey.”
“I think I can manage your disobedience, Beauty.” He grinned broadly, overjoyed by her blatant happiness. “Keep crying and you’re going to turn from my Beauty into the Beast.”
Oh! “Stop. I can’t concentrate like this,” she retorted.