Grab your fascinators – it’s Four Weddings time! To celebrate the release of The Wedding Diary by Margaret James, we’ve asked four lovely Choc Lit authors to imagine their characters’ weddings.
Which wedding would you most like to be a guest at? Don’t forget to leave your vote at the end of the post!
Gethin and Coralie from Move Over Darling by Christine Stovell
What a beautiful spring day and what a glorious setting! Blinking, as she emerged from the cool interior of the old stone building, Coralie paused to take stock. The little church was set on top of a hill, from where emerald fields tumbled down to a turquoise sea. A winding road led to the village of Penmorfa and eventually to the garden centre where the reception was being held. Having popped over there first thing, Coralie knew that Alys and Kitty had pulled out all the stops in the large marquee with its striped-canvas roof spread out jewel-like in the beautiful grounds.
‘You look absolutely ravishing in that dress, Mrs Lewis,’ said the handsome man beside her in his sexy Welsh lilt.
Coralie shivered, delighted that her gamble had paid off. The vintage silk organza wedding dress had arrived as exactly described; prom-style, with an extravagantly-full skirt, a high neck, deep V back and a cinched-in waist. She’d accessorised it with an orange duchesse silk bow in her piled-up copper hair and matching orange shoes.
She gazed up into Gethin’s face as the sunlight caught the intense, blue-black of his hair, the twinkle of his midnight eyes, and a glint of white teeth as he smiled. Her husband. Her husband! Her once-secret love was no secret anymore and she felt like shouting it from the highest hills, telling the daffodils and anyone else would listen. But, first …
‘I look equally ravishing out of it,’ she said, stretching up to whisper in his ear, just as the photographer snapped them.
When anyone asked afterwards what she was saying to her husband, Coralie just smiled. But the photograph always reminded her of the most perfect start to their married life.
Nico and Midori from The Gilded Fan by Christina Courtenay
The wedding of Midori Kumashiro and Nicholas Noordholt was something quite out of the ordinary.
‘I’ve never seen a more exotic bride!’ cousin Temperance exclaimed when she first saw Midori in her wedding finery. ‘You look like a Far Eastern princess.’
Midori’s gown was made out of the brightly coloured silk material which had once been her best kimono. After the hardships of the recent civil war, and with most of the congregation being Puritans, it wasn’t really suitable. But it was a compromise – better than marrying in the original garment, which would no doubt have scandalised everyone. Her hair hung loose down her back, dark and glossy, almost to her knees and she needed no other adornment – she was quite simply beautiful and radiated happiness.
The groom was exceedingly handsome too, in a midnight blue silk coat, waistcoat and breeches, with a white silk shirt and stockings. It was his expression that drew the onlookers’ attention, however, as he watched his bride come towards him on the arm of her cousin Daniel. He looked like a man who’d found the greatest treasure on earth.
Temperance, as maid of honour, wore a pale blue gown that complemented her lovely eyes. Both she and the bride carried small posies of white damask roses tied with ribbons. Everyone else was dressed in their Sunday best.
A feast was held in the Marston household after the ceremony, featuring pastries, tarts, marchpane, crystallised fruits, cakes and jellies, as well as some foreign dishes concocted by the
bride herself. Wine and ale flowed freely and everyone joined in the dancing afterwards. It was the most joyous of occasions and one which the guests wouldn’t forget in a hurry.
Nate and Rowan from No Such Thing as Immortality by Sarah Tranter
I stood alone before the altar in the family chapel and closed my eyes. The stale musty air became infused with the fragrance of white roses. My daydreaming of Rowan at Ridings was reaching new heights …
‘Chill,’ James murmured at my side. He patted his pocket containing the Gray family wedding band.
‘Me?’ I queried with a wry rise of my brow. James was the one fidgeting. Aunty Hetty’s presence was more than unsettling him. He sent a fruitful rant my way.
My coat was tugged. I turned and looked down. Rowan’s nephew. I smiled but shook my head. There was a time and place for dressing up as a dinosaur. He returned to running around pews with his brother and being reprimanded by his parents.
My eyes met Elizabeth’s. Oh sweetheart. ‘I’m so happy,’ she bawled into my head, swiping away her tears of blood before they could be seen by the humans in the congregation. Frederick, arms around her, grinned at me and rolled his eyes.
Madeleine, next to him, observed silently, ‘You are the something old, Nathaniel. Any idea as to …?’
My look shot to the open door. And there she was. Dear God! I was barely aware of her being on the arm of her Uncle Fergus. He was wearing a kilt, sword, but no shirt ― even on this day! But Rowan … She was in full-length ivory, her glorious hair piled loosely around her head, her mother’s pendant around her neck. And her smile! Our eyes had met and held and it was as if time stood still. That look within their stunning verdant depths was reflecting all that she felt, all that I felt …
I swallowed hard and inhaled deeply of the dank musty air. How I prayed time was not our something borrowed.
John and Sarah from A Stitch in Time by Amanda James
Sarah Yates, time traveller extraordinaire, looked at her reflection and felt her heart do a rumba against her ribs. Even if she said so herself, she looked beautiful…and yes, even a little radiant. The ivory silk gown clung in all the right places and rippled sumptuously to the floor. Sarah grinned, noticing that with her slightest movement, the silk caught the light and poured material across her curves like cream over a spoon.
A single string of pearls adorned her neck, the matching teardrop earrings adding lustre to her peaches and cream complexion. Hand-made lace decorating the neckline tumbled to a halt, revealing just a hint of cleavage rising and falling to the rumba rhythm.
Artistically twisted into Botticelli tendrils; her long golden hair, the side tresses secured behind her head in a simple pearl clasp, looked absolutely perfect. And today was going to be perfect. Allowed carte blanche for one special day by ‘the powers that be’, she and John had chosen a very special wedding venue and a very special time.
In a clearing of an English forest when the world was young and full of hope, accompanied by birdsong, Sarah walked a path of flower petals towards her fiancé. Divine in a dark grey suit and green shirt, his dark hair curling over the collar, John turned and shot her a smile rivalling the sunlight streaming through the leafy canopy.
At the end of the path he took her hand, his deep green eyes twinkled and his wide sensuous mouth broke into another heart-stopping smile. And Sarah knew that despite their very much ‘less than normal’ relationship, she was soon going to be the happiest woman in the world.