Chapter 25
Airgead Caisteal
Friday, August 6, 2010
7:02 p.m.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow, she will be mine. Mine and no one else’s. No Davidoff, Ashford, Westwood, not even Leibowitz. She will be a MacCraig. He breathed in the fresh air and looked around.
The amorphous chaos by the loch had taken the shape of a tall pavilion that ended in an incredible chapel, which looked like it was made of crystal. The Santo family had a creative vein he never could have imagined from Sophia’s line of work. Everything they created was different, classy, and dashing. From the stationary to the dresses. He was sure the guests would be surprised tomorrow.
Alistair shook his head, amused, as he sat in one of the acrylic chairs and watched Jeff Leatham, with a white rose between his teeth, dance and laugh with
