The Skye Collection, page 121
She leaned in to speak into his ear. ‘What’s wrong?’
He shook his head and moved closer to her. ‘Absolutely nothing at all. I just think you’re the most beautiful, sexy and incredible woman on earth, and I still can’t believe you’re mine.’
She placed a hand on either side of his face. ‘Well, I am. And I feel the same about you. Who’d have thought it? Seventeen years after I walked into your mum and dad’s house in Durham with Jules that Christmastime, we finally realised we were meant to be together. Although, I think I knew all along.’ As she finished speaking, Justin Hawkins’ voice echoed over the sound system and the place fell silent.
He was shielding his eyes from the glare of the spotlight on him. ‘Can we have the house lights up?’ As instructed, the room was once again illuminated. Justin continued, ‘Now… a little bird told me, it’s someone’s birthday today and they’re here tonight. Well, when I say a little bird, he’s more a hulking great bear of a bloke. Aren’t you, Dex?’ Justin turned and looked up to where they were standing and Millie almost fell over.
She gasped and turned to Dexter, who was grinning from ear to ear as he kept his gaze fixed on her. ‘You did this?’ she asked.
He shrugged and said, ‘I told you, I have my connections.’
Justin spoke again. ‘So, Millie, thanks for coming to our gig tonight on your birthday. We’re honoured to have you,’ the singer told her.
Millie was quite starstruck and unable to reply.
Justin laughed. ‘Okay, everybody, I think it’s only fair that we sing happy birthday to Millie, aka Treaders – what do you say?’
The whole room cheered and every pair of eyes was suddenly on her. Her cheeks flamed and she covered her mouth with her hands.
Justin struck out the opening chords of ‘Happy Birthday’ and began to sing. The entire audience joined in and Dexter gave her a little nudge so that she stepped forward into the spotlight that was now being aimed in her direction. She wasn’t used to being the centre of attention, but this felt amazing. Her heart skipped and butterflies began drumming along inside her. Justin even added a fancy guitar solo and some especially high-pitched vocals that elicited more whoops and cheers from the audience and he winked at Millie as he played.
At the end of the song, the audience cheered and turned to face Millie once more to applaud. She shook her head and grinned, still in shock.
Justin waved his hands at the crowd. ‘Hang on, hang on, that’s not the end of it!’ He turned to look up at Millie again. ‘So, Treaders, Dex tells me he’s loved you since the day he met you, and that he never thought for a second a girl like you would fancy a bloke like him. But you did, is that right?’
Millie nodded and the crowd responded with a chorus of ‘Awww’.
‘But we as a band know Dex quite well from our earlier touring days and we know he’s a great fella. In fact, he was the roadie for one of our support acts on our 2006 One Way Ticket to Hell tour and we spent a lot of time drinking and chatting didn’t we, Dex? And we’ve kept in touch. Now, when Dex told me he was bringing you here tonight, me and the band decided we had to do something extra-special. So… Over to you, Dex.’ He gave a flourish of his hand.
A little confused with what was going on, Millie turned around to face Dex, who was now holding a microphone. ‘Treaders… Millie… you’re the light of my life, you always have been. You make me laugh, you make me feel loved, and you’re letting me be a part of your little girl’s life too.’ His voice wavered and he cleared his throat. ‘I adore you both and I want to spend the rest of my life with the two of you… and Nigel… the dog, everyone, I thought I should clarify that…’ The crowd laughed along. ‘So…’ He lowered himself to one knee. Tears spilled from Millie’s eyes as she gazed down at him. ‘So, if you still feel the same after me doing all this to you, and embarrassing you in front of all these people, and if you love me as much as I love you, will… will you marry me?’
Millie didn’t need to think. She had loved him since the first time she laid eyes on him. She loved everything about him, but especially the way he was with her daughter. Ivy may as well have been his own child. Her heart was full and whole again because, together, Dex, Ivy and, of course, Nigel the Wonder Dog, had mended what Harry had so ruthlessly broken, and so her answer was easy.
She nodded and said, ‘Yes.’
The venue erupted and confetti began to rain down from the ceiling as Dexter stood and took her in his arms to kiss her.
Back on the stage, Justin announced. ‘This one’s for Dex and Millie! Because I Believe in a Thing Called Love!’
As the opening bars to Millie’s favourite song began to play, she kissed the man of her dreams on a balcony in front of hundreds of people, and she wouldn’t have changed a single thing… apart from maybe her surname someday soon…
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
There are so many amazing people who work behind the scenes to make my stories shine and I am grateful to each and every one of them.
Caroline, my editor at Boldwood, you’re incredible at teasing out my best words and I love working with you. Amanda, Nia, Claire, Jade and Mills, and the rest of team Boldwood, you are awesome! You work so tirelessly for your authors and I’m honoured to be a part of your company.
Lorella and the team at LBLA Ltd, where do I start? I can’t put into words how amazing it feels to be with such a wonderful agency. Your support is immense, you go above and beyond, and I am so thankful that you took me on.
To my readers, grateful is such a small word for how I feel about your continued encouragement, support and friendship. Your messages, reviews and social media comments keep me loving what I do. And I wouldn’t be doing it if you didn’t read my stories, so thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Fiona and Sue and Heidi, I’m so glad that a love of books brought us together. I absolutely adore my release parties. You are such positive people filled with such kindness and I am indebted to you for the work you do.
To all of my lovelies in Hobman’s Hub, this past year has been crazy with me and my friend taking over at the bookshop, and then with Wilf joining our family. I know I haven’t been as present in the group as I should be, but please know I am grateful that you all still stick around.
And last but by no means least, to my family and friends, I’m sure I drive you potty talking about books, stories, reviews and new ideas but I love that you tolerate this and continue to embolden me and spur me on. I love you all so very much.
MORE FROM LISA HOBMAN
We hope you enjoyed reading The Skye Collection. If you did, please leave a review. If you’d like to gift a copy, this book is available to purchase in paperback, hardback, large print and audio.
Coming Home to the Highlands, the first instalment in another feel-good romance series from Lisa Hobman, is available to buy now by clicking on the image below. Or read on for an exclusive extract…
Prologue
Cheers and whistles rang out round the auditorium and the models at the end of the catwalk applauded world-famous fashion designer, Nina Picarro, as she walked towards them, waving to familiar faces in the audience and blowing two-handed kisses. Once she reached the group of towering men and women, the Italian-born designer was enveloped in a group hug and handed bouquets of flowers. There were lots of air kisses and Nina bowed humbly as Olivia MacBain looked on from the wings with a sense of giddiness and pride fluttering inside her. She had the urge to call her mum, but thanks to the five-hour time difference, it would only be three in the morning back in Scotland. She would refrain from calling now but couldn’t wait to call her and tell her all about it the next day.
Seeing her own designs brought to life and paraded before the city’s elite at New York Fashion Week had been a huge thrill for Olivia, and a dream come true to boot; something she’d hoped for but had never anticipated actually happening when she had left the Scottish Highlands and arrived in New York for her internship at the House of Nina Picarro, six years earlier.
Although born into a noble Scottish family with a long and colourful history, Olivia had decided at the tender age of eight that she wanted to be a fashion designer. At that time, her parents had humoured her, presuming that once she came of age, she would realise the role she must play in Scotland’s high society, and would begin to toe the line.
They were wrong.
Six years after Olivia graduated from Glasgow’s prestigious School of Art, whilst working at the House of Nina Picarro, her father died suddenly of a heart attack and her world came crumbling down around her. She had been very close to her father and losing him caused a heartache like she had never experienced before and hoped never to again. Losing him made Olivia even more determined that she would follow her own career path. And even though her mother, Lady Freya, had insisted that her husband of thirty-five years Laird Gregor MacBain’s heart condition had been something they couldn’t have predicted, Olivia knew it was partly the stress of dealing with the day-to-day maintenance of the family seat, Drumblair Castle, in the pretty village of Drumblair, to the south-west of Inverness.
Olivia wasn’t in the least bit interested in following in her father’s footsteps. Although, thankfully, the tradition was that the eldest son would be the one to carry the mantle, and this particular honour would fall to her older brother, Kerr. At thirty-three, he was five years her senior, public-school educated, and welcome to the title of Laird of Drumblair, as far as she was concerned. He wanted nothing more and had made that patently clear from a young age.
And anyway, now, at the age of twenty-eight, things were finally falling into place for Olivia. Her hard work, at both university and during her year-long internship, was paying off. Not only had she been a bona fide design assistant at one of the most prestigious fashion houses in New York for the past five years, but her boss had started to recognise her potential. This latest step of having her designs exclusively included in the show was huge for her career, and she still had to pinch herself when she remembered Nina’s response to her drawings
‘We simply have to show them, darling,’ Nina had said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. ‘The world needs to know what talent we have here.’
Nina Picarro had dressed royalty, rock stars and movie icons, and her creations ranged from sublime gowns worn to the opera and royal weddings, to the verging-on-crazy outfits that clothed the attendees at the New York Met Gala, but in spite of all this, she remained a down-to-earth, non-egotistical woman who wasn’t in the least bit threatened by other talent. In fact, she embraced it wholeheartedly.
A camera flashed, snatching Olivia from her reminiscing, and she was pulled into a bear hug.
‘That was uh-mazing, Olivia,’ a distinctly New York accent spoke loudly into her ear. The voice belonged to her best friend and housemate, Harper Franklin. They had met when Olivia arrived from Scotland and was looking for a place to live. Fashion photographer, Harper, had pinned a ‘room to let’ sign on the noticeboard in the staffroom and Olivia had responded; the rest, as they say, is history.
Olivia scrunched her eyes as she turned to face her friend, dazzled by the bright light. ‘I hope you’re going to delete that shot. I must’ve looked completely gormless.’
Harper nudged her playfully and waved her free hand. ‘Nah, don’t worry. You always look like you totally have all the gorm.’ Harper’s attempts to decipher Olivia’s ‘British-isms’ were often a cause for giggles. ‘Anyways, you must be so damn proud of yourself, Olivia, because I’m so damned proud of you too!’
Olivia nodded, her heart pounding at her ribs and her face beginning to ache from grinning. ‘I have to say it was probably the most exciting thing I’ve ever experienced.’
‘You’ll be Nina’s second-in-command before long. I just know it,’ Harper enthused, as she always did about almost everything. Olivia shook her head and rolled her eyes. Michael, Nina’s current assistant, was like part of the furniture at Nina Picarro and it was doubtful he’d ever leave, but before she could respond with her reasoning, Harper butted in, ‘You do know Michael’s getting married soon, right? And his fiancé, Alvaro, wants to return home to Cuba to take over his father’s restaurant. Michael won’t want to disappoint his new husband now, will he? And who better to take his place as Nina’s second than you?’
This was news to Olivia and a rush of excitement flooded her veins in the form of heat, no doubt causing her face to glow like a neon diner sign – an affliction she had suffered since her awkward teenage years when her teeth had protruded a little too much and her gangly legs had made her feel rather like a baby giraffe. She scrunched her brow and made an unladylike snorting noise. ‘Pfft, no way. I’m sure there are a dozen people more equipped to fill Michael’s shoes.’
‘Na-uh!’ Harper glanced around in a conspiratorial manner and whispered, ‘Between me and you, I overheard Michael talking to Sophie in Graphic Design yesterday. He was telling her that you’re going to be a tough act to follow after your work this season.’
Olivia covered her mouth to stop a bubbling squeal from escaping. ‘Really?’ Harper nodded and Olivia widened her eyes. ‘Bloody hell, I’ve never heard him praise anyone but Nina.’
Harper grinned. ‘See? What did I tell you? It’ll be your name on that backdrop one day. Now, I’d better go and get some more candid shots of the models backstage for the website. People love that stuff.’ She rolled her eyes and shrugged in disbelief. ‘Beautiful people acting all natural as if they’re human.’ She chuckled and raised her brows to feign shock. ‘Bizarre but true. They lap that stuff right on up.’ Harper leaned in and kissed her cheek. ‘See you in about an hour for the after-party. Love you.’ Then she dashed away before Olivia could reply.
Nina arrived backstage and made a beeline for Olivia. ‘Well, darling, we did it,’ she said. She had been in America since her teens and the last remnants of her Italian accent were almost gone unless you knew her well. She held her hands out and tilted her head, her perfect jet-black bob swishing as she moved. ‘I looked for you to come and take a bow, but you were hiding.’ She shook her head and scrunched her brow. ‘Our beautiful Olivia, always too modest.’
Olivia was aware that she was still wearing a grin that resembled a crazed serial killer, but she couldn’t help it. ‘It was wonderful, Nina. Thank you so much for including my designs.’
Nina drew her into a brief embrace then pulled away and held her at arm’s length, fixing her with a sincere gaze. ‘I like to promote real talent when I find it. Speaking of which, you and I need to talk. Come to my office on Monday morning at ten.’
Olivia’s heart skipped and she struggled to get her brain to remind her mouth to respond. Eventually she spluttered, ‘Yes, sure, absolutely, will do.’ Her attempts to hide her excitement and intrigue failed miserably.
Nina smiled knowingly before disappearing into yet another crowd of well-wishers, and Olivia had to restrain herself from fist bumping the air. Maybe Harper had been right? Maybe Nina wanted to talk to her about Michael’s soon-to-be vacant position. How on earth would she sleep over the weekend without knowing what fate awaited her in Nina’s office?
The exit opened as people began to leave, bringing with it a blast of icy February air, and before the door closed again, from her spot in the warm auditorium, Olivia could see large flakes of snow floating rapidly towards the ground. Her family home jumped, surprisingly, into her mind. Winters in the Scottish Highlands were the most beautiful, yet the most isolating, thing she had ever experienced; at least here the world didn’t stand still at the mere flurry of inclement weather. Oh, the many benefits of living in New York and having every amenity a stone’s throw away.
Of course, Olivia was expected to attend the after-party and she knew she would enjoy it once she arrived, but she was tired out, exhausted even, from the long hours she had been putting in during the lead-up to Fashion Week. All she really wanted to do was hail a cab and head home to the quaint little two-bed apartment she shared with Harper in Sunnyside, Queens. But considering the discussion Nina wanted to have with her on Monday, she couldn’t risk being a no-show. It wouldn’t be good for her career if she started to flake after late-night events, considering there could potentially be many more in her future career. That is if Harper’s suspicions were true.
She felt her phone vibrating in her pocket and pulled it out with a huff. She glared at the screen in disbelief as her brother Kerr’s name glowed from the handset and a cold shiver travelled her spine as she noted the time illuminated there too. Ten after 10 p.m. eastern time. The five-hour time difference had stopped her calling home not so long ago. What the heck? He never calls me. And certainly not at ten past three in the morning.
A familiar sinking feeling rolled through her stomach. She hoped he wasn’t going to ask her for money again. Last time he had called her, he had feigned this sickly sibling connection that they had regrettably never shared, and then had proceeded to ask her to loan him £2,000; another gambling debt that he was trying to hide from their mother for fear of disappointing her yet again.
The last she had heard from or about her brother had been a few months ago when she learned that he was dating the wealthy widow of a former acquaintance of her parents. The woman, Adaira Wallace, was in her late fifties, and Olivia knew full well the reason behind the relationship. The suspicions Olivia held over Kerr’s motives had once been directed, by others, at Adaira herself when the former sales assistant had supposedly married ‘above her station’ and to an aristocrat many years her senior. Adaira had, of course, inherited her older husband’s fortune after only ten years of wedded bliss, and was childless. Aiming to get into more than her good graces, Kerr was as mercenary as he was handsome. With their father’s striking features that bore a resemblance to a younger Kurt Russell, and their mother’s Titian hair, Kerr was quite the hit with the older ladies. Olivia, on the other hand, had inherited their father’s mousy brown hair and their mother’s natural curls. Although, unlike their mother’s, her curls couldn’t easily be tamed, so she didn’t consider herself in any way nearly as beautiful.
