Some Like It Scot (11 page)

But this had an entirely different feeling to it. Intimate in a way that wasn't just cohorts-in-crime…but partners in…well, a lot of things that weren't just about friendship. She realized she really liked it. A lot.

She got caught up in that twinkle for another moment or two, then, feeling a little flustered when those other images danced around the edges of her brain again, she turned back and busied herself digging through the first bag she could reach. She quickly slid out a pair of navy slacks and a soft, silky, umber-toned pullover. She spared a second thinking about the under-garments she wore, which were more about the foundation of a wedding dress than for everyday comfort, but she was not going to dig for a more appropriate bra or undies in front of him. Not with the way her mind was working at the moment.

She zipped up the bag. “Okay, I'm good,” she said, and stepped back so he could lower the trunk lid that he'd been propping up with one hand.

He lowered it and snapped it shut, as she turned and tried to gather the train in one hand and keep from completely crushing the clothes she'd just gotten out, in the other.

“Just hold on to the clothes.”

She shifted them against her chest and turned, as he scooped her up again and flipped the long train into her lap.

More clapping, oohing and ahhing followed.

“Most romantic thing ever!”

“I know!”

Katie felt her cheeks heat and started to correct them. “It's really not what—”

“Shh, let them have their fun,” he said quietly, so only she could hear.

She looked up at him as he carried her to the curb and, to her utter surprise, sent the growing cluster of women a smiling wink. She shook her head, but smiled. He was such a contradiction. Concerned and gallant one moment, bold, claiming warrior the next. Embarrassed center stager, and…irrepressible flirt. She wondered what it would be like, to have him relaxed and flirting like that with her.

She became suddenly more aware of how his arms felt supporting her, and how hard and broad his chest was, as he held her against it.

“You can put me down now,” she said, as they reached the walk leading to the rest stop building.

“I realize there may be little sentimentality to this dress,” he said, “but I'll get you to the restroom door so you don't have to wrestle with it any longer than necessary.”

He did just that, and paused to the side of the wide entrance-way.

She looked up and instead of finding that twinkle, or even an amused look on his face, she was surprised to see him looking quite serious. “What is it?”

“I'm sorry,” he said.

Her brows lifted. “For?”

“This day.”

“What have you got to be sorry about? If anything, you rescued me from this day.”

He didn't say anything to that. Then he gently put her feet on the ground. She clutched her clothes to her chest, suddenly feeling a bit wobbly, though it had nothing to do with her dress or narrow-heeled slippers.

“You're beautiful, Miss McAuley. And ye did the dress justice. Though I'm no' sure there's a dress that's been made that can do you the same.” Then, while she gathered the wits he'd just so easily and thoroughly scattered, he turned away and busied himself lifting her train, and gathering it into a loosely folded bundle. As if the moment had never happened, he handed the soft bundle to her to keep it off the ground. “Can you navigate from here?”

“I—” She had to clear her suddenly thick throat. She couldn't recall anyone ever saying anything quite so lovely to her. “Yes. I'll be fine.”

He studied her for a moment, then nodded. “I believe you will, Katherine Elizabeth Georgina Rosemary McAuley. I believe you will.”

Completely nonplussed, she didn't know what else to do but head inside to finally, mercifully, get out of the dress.

“You deserved a better day than this,” she thought she heard him murmur behind her.

She hustled the rest of the way inside, suddenly impatient to have the thing off of her, to put the day, and all that it meant, behind her. To be Katie McAuley, new woman, and not Katie McAuley, joke bride.

Fortunately, Graham had done all the difficult work when he'd loosened the dress in the limo earlier. She could reach around and get to the rest of the stays, though it took a few minutes to orient her fingers properly to unhook them all. Once done, she was out of it and free, in record time. She laid it over the swinging door and piled the train on top of it, letting it hang over both sides of the door. She peeled off garters and hosiery. Shoes. She'd forgotten to get different shoes. Shrugging, she slipped on her pants and adjusted her strapless bra a time or two, then gave up. She put on the pullover before stepping back into her satin pumps, and leaving the stall entirely.

She gave herself a cursory once-over in the wall of mirrors that ran opposite the stalls. Her hair was a mussed-up disaster. She could only imagine what the coeds thought they'd been doing in the back of that limo. Then she thought about what they'd almost done—or started doing—and realized that if the rest stop had been any further away, that supposition might not have been so far off.

She raked her fingers through her hair and tried to smooth it into some semblance of order, then just gave up. “Well, it's a start.”

She smirked a little at the added lift and fullness to the front of her pullover, provided by the engineering feat that was the bra she was wearing. She turned for a side view, and her eyes widened a little at the pronounced curves. Something that wasn't exactly synonymous with her usual look. The old Katie McAuley dressed down her femininity, partly because she wanted to be taken seriously, working in a male-dominated field, and partly because that was the kind of woman she was. Not an uber girly-girl. Much to her mother's endless dismay. Come to think of it, that might have been half the reason she wasn't one. Asserting her rebellious, independent tendencies in the small ways she could.

But she was the new Katie McAuley now. Or, perhaps, the real Katie McAuley. She posed a little, pronouncing the curvy look. Her thoughts went to Graham, and the reaction her appearance might get from him. “Yep, I'm keeping the bra.” Then, a little stunned at herself, and not a little excited by the idea there might be other sides to her she'd never explored before, she turned and looked at the hunk of white dress hanging over the swinging stall door. She was tempted to leave it right where it was, but decided against it. After all, it was hardly the dress's fault. So, she hauled it off, then rolled it up in a bundle in her arms. She didn't want it, but she wouldn't abandon it to a roadside rest stop fate.

You did the dress justice. Though I'm not sure there's a dress that's been made that can do you the same.
Graham's words echoed in her mind as she left the restroom. To her surprise, and definite dismay, she felt her eyes burn a little. She purposely did not look at the bundle in her arms, but thrust it straight into his as soon as she exited the building.

He said nothing as he clutched it to his tartan-covered chest to keep from dropping it.

She went straight to the limo and tapped on the trunk. The driver popped it for her and she made quick work of finding something better to wear on her feet.

She straightened to find him standing behind her, still holding the dress. “I don't care what you do with it. But I don't think I want to see it again.”

He simply nodded.

Thankfully the coeds had apparently driven off. But there were one or two other looks from passersby. Mostly at Graham, as he was still in full kilt regalia. She ignored them and climbed unceremoniously into the back of the limo. She heard the trunk click shut a moment later, but didn't look to see where the dress had ended up.

She had only a second or two, before he climbed in behind her, to gather herself and get some kind of grip. She decided she needed to keep some space between them. That was first and foremost. Then she needed to decide exactly what her strategy would be at the airport. Free of the dress, free of the day that had led her to that point—for that matter, the life that had led her to that point—she had to decide what she was going to do next. Would she free herself of him, too?

The other door opened, and the size of the back of the limo shrunk swiftly as it was filled with the oversized Scot.

Italy? Or Scotland?

Maybe she should choose another destination entirely. One that wasn't connected to any of the men in her life. Yes. That was probably the best thing to do. Then her shoulders—and her bravado—slumped a little. She hadn't any funds, or connection to any funds, that would allow her the luxury of buying another ticket.

Graham was right. Everyone she knew or was connected to her old life in any meaningful way, knew she had tickets to Italy.

No one knew she had a ticket to Scotland.

“Are ye okay, Katie?” he asked, as if reading her thoughts, once again.

“Fine,” she said, then straightened and settled herself in her seat. She set her shoulders, crossed her legs, and set her sights not on him, but forward instead. Where they should be. And where they would remain. Her options, as she saw them, were few. He wanted a wife in name only. She needed a ticket out of her old life. All the rest of whatever the hell had been going on between them before they'd pulled off to the rest stop…well, she didn't know what that was. Residual insanity from a long emotional day. But that was also in the past.

It was all business going forward. He was offering her a deal. A favorable one, he'd said. She had a new life to build, and only one way to fund it, as far as she could see.

“So,” she said, smoothing her hair from her face, then folding her arms in the same manner as she might have if she were sitting in the corporate meeting room. “What time is our flight?”

G
raham kept his own counsel, and his distance, on the remainder of their ride. Something had changed when she'd removed the wedding dress. As if she'd shed the old, and was now girded for the new.

He respected that, and allowed her the time and space to prepare herself for what came next. He thought about what she'd asked him previously…what was he going to tell everyone when they returned? Had Roan already let it slip that he was, for all intents and purposes, stealing a bride from the altar?

Not that it mattered, he supposed. There were no secrets on Kinloch. The story would come out. He had to figure out how best to protect her from his well meaning, but naturally nosy clansmen. Once things calmed down and settled a bit, he wanted the two of them to sit down with Shay and go over the proposed joint venture.

Joint venture.

He dipped his chin a little bit, feeling somewhat shamed by the whole thing, which was frustrating to him. He wasn't doing anything his own ancestors hadn't done. Given no choice in the matter, he was being up front and dealing with it, in the most honest and direct way he could. Certainly no one on the island would fault him for being so cold and clinical about it. They'd be humbled, or at least he hoped they would, that he was willing to make that kind of sacrifice in order to continue working for the greater good of them all.

Yet, none of that rationale made him feel the least bit better about the plans he was making for his immediate future. It wasn't who he was. Neatly typed legal documents, duly signed by two willing parties or not, it felt…wrong.

His gaze slid to Katie, who had her hands folded in her lap, her gaze pointed somewhere beyond her passenger window. She wasn't as tiny or delicate as she'd seemed while in that voluminous dress. He still towered over her, but he towered over pretty much everyone. She seemed sturdier…stronger. Certainly more capable and far less fragile in her current ensemble than she had in yards of satin and tulle. However, she looked every bit as stunning. Her blond hair tumbled around her face, softening the impact of the neatly designed, perfectly fitted clothing she wore. Well-made pieces, even he could see that, but there was nothing frilly, or even particularly feminine about them.

Yet her beauty shone bold and bright, like a beacon of light. Perhaps it was her hair, which looked like the sun itself had kissed every strand. He had spent very little, if any, time around someone with blond hair. Male or female. There were a few fairer haired souls on the island, but the shade would be considered pale red, at best. Nothing like the light-infused waterfall of sunshine that seemed to hold him so transfixed.

Another, far more unwelcome visage swam through his mind. Iain's dashing prince charming good looks were also topped with a thick, blond mane. Wonderful. If the women on Kinloch were a tenth as transfixed as he was by Katie's golden goddess tresses, his challenge was only greater than before.

“We've arrived,” came the driver's voice over the speaker.

Graham was pulled from his darkening thoughts to the world outside the limo. They were parked in the midst of the bustling departures lane at the airport. Up to that point it had all been talk and conjecture…interspersed with a few intensely shared moments he hadn't allowed himself to dwell on since leaving the rest stop. Those would explain themselves—or not—as time went on. At least, that's what he'd told himself. It was better than torturing himself by trying to figure out what had truly been going on between them.

But once they stepped from the limo…once they checked in luggage and boarded that plane, it was far more real than it had been in the safe little microcosm their world had become in the back of the limo. Conjecture and what ifs were about to become reality—or at least take a huge step toward that possible outcome.

He looked to Katie, who despite her often asserted wish to be in charge of herself and her destiny, at the moment looked more than a little uncertain at the prospect of her immediate future and what her initial independent decisions had caused her to do.

“I'll no' force you, or coerce you, into doing anything ye dinnae want to do, Katie. We'll go to Kinloch, and you'll have time, and space—I'll see to that—to think things through, thoroughly and completely, before we take any additional steps. This is just the first one, but I'll no' rush you beyond it.”

She lifted her gaze to his, and for once, he couldn't tell what she was thinking. She'd worn her emotions fairly clearly on her face and it was a bit disconcerting to suddenly feel disconnected from her. It occurred to him just how connected he had, indeed, felt, since…well, since first entering the prayer garden, if truth be told.

“Thank you,” she said. “I just—I want you to know I considered not going. I mean, I've thought about leaving you here, and using my tickets to go to Italy and onward. To just be alone. I've thought about it a lot.”

His gut tightened, but it was the squeeze of his heart that was the most painful. And disturbing. He wasn't thinking so much about Kinloch and possibly losing his one chance to legalize his standing there. No, he'd been thinking he wasn't ready to say good-bye to her yet. Couldn't imagine that she'd simply cease to be in his life.

He'd only just found her.

Visions flickered at the edge of his consciousness, but he purposely blinked them away.

“Graham?”

He looked directly at her, forced himself to focus on what he knew to be true and real. That he needed her, but only as it pertained to him achieving his goals. Her goals were not his, nor would they ever be. If she agreed to help him, it would be as big a sacrifice for her as it was for him. He'd make sure to do everything he could to honor that sacrifice.

And do nothing to exploit it.

“I understand. I know you want to step into your new life. No' into a life with me. I can only…” The words drifted off as he continued to look into her eyes, as sparkling as the sea break. He heard himself say what was in his heart…not what was in his head. “I can only say that I don't want you to leave. I want you to come with me to Kinloch. I dinnae rightly know why it's so important that you do. But it is. And no' just for the official reasons I need your hand in marriage.”

He let the statement hang there, and damned himself for even attempting to put into words the inescapable things he'd been feeling since they'd joined forces, even before entering the chapel.

“I'm no' tryin' to scare you away.” Although he was doing a bloody good job of it, if her guarded expression was any indication. “I'm simply speaking of what is. I don't want to say good-bye to you. But I'll stand by all that I've said. No coercion. You have my undying gratitude for being willing to travel with me thus far. 'Tis certainly far more than I'd hoped for when I boarded the ferry, what seems like forever ago now. Please, come home with me. I'll see that, beyond all else, ye don't regret it. You're free to leave at any time, of course. In fact, I'll purchase you a ticket back home when we go inside, dated the day we'd need to—”

“Seal the deal?” she said, no inflection in her tone at all.

She held his gaze, hers still closed and wary. He could kick himself, but what was done was done. He couldn't explain what more there seemed to be to their union, as he had no explanation for it. He meant what he said, about being grateful for anything she was willing to concede, to the greater good of his people. But at that moment, breath held in his chest, it sure as bloody hell felt like a whole lot more was at stake as he awaited her response.

“Aye,” he said, determined to shut the hell up.

“I have no other prospects,” she finally said. “A trip to Italy might be as good as any to gather my thoughts and plan my next step, but I'd have no means beyond hotels that are already bought and paid for, and excursions already planned with no further balance due.” She lifted her shoulders, and for the first time, he saw the true trepidation that lay just beneath the surface of her apparent calm acceptance of her current situation. She truly was bereft of all she'd known, all she'd ever had.

“You're not only offering me an all expenses paid get-out-of-my-life free card, but I'm assuming there is some financial compensation coming my way if I agree to…lend you my name.”

His heart grew cold and tight at her detached and clinical calm. Though he certainly couldn't fault her for behaving in such a way. Yet it hurt, all the same. He was not that man. That was not how he conducted business, much less his own personal life.

“Katie…”

She lifted a hand. “I'm not saying I agree. Yet. I'm saying I'll go with you. To Kinloch. I'll consider your offer, as I also take the time to consider all my options, whatever else they might be. I just want you to understand where I am, and why I'm considering it. It's purely business, Graham. And it needs to remain business.”

He nodded. “Understood.”

Yet their gazes held for several moments longer than strictly business dictated.

Then the driver was tapping on the window, startling them both into action.

“I'll come around,” Graham said.

“I'm fine,” she responded, and they both climbed out of their respective sides. The driver assisted Katie as Graham went to the back and started unloading her luggage.

She met him there. “I'm sorry for all this. If I could remember which thing was in which bag, I could consolidate, but—”

“Maybe it's best to take everything you have with you.”

She glanced up at him, and read his meaning. “You make a good point. I'm glad we didn't end up booking
my
chosen honeymoon destination.”

“Which was?”

“Bora Bora. Also known as the furthest known spot from McAuley-Sheffield as I could get without going somewhere really cold.”

“I don't know that I'd have minded that wardrobe so much, but perhaps you have a point.” He smiled and was gratified when she did the same in response. “Here, let me help.”

She reached for another bag, but he motioned her away. “I've got it. Which one has your travel documents? Passport?”

“They're in that one,” she said, pointing to the stitched leather, wheeled carry on, which matched all the other hand-stitched leather bags lining the curb. Two deep.

An airline attendant approached and Katie smiled. “Thank goodness for curbside check-in, huh?”

Graham smiled and turned to greet the young man. “I'll need to book additional passage,” he said. “Miss McAuley will be accompanying me.” He withdrew his passport from his sporran and wasted a brief moment wishing he had his own knapsack and a change of clothes, but he'd suffer far worse to see the whole thing move forward. “I'll need to change my ticket as well. Here's the information.”

Within minutes they were ushered inside and had everything taken care of. The booking agent had managed to maneuver them into seats next to each other. The first leg would take them overnight to Heathrow. From there to Glasgow, then a train ride up to Oban and the first ferry. He turned to Katie as she tucked her own documents in her bag. “We should be on Kinloch by late tomorrow night,” he told her.

He spied the weariness creeping in around the edges of her eyes and mouth as she smiled. “Not as far, technically, as Bora Bora, but perhaps equally distant from known civilization. At least the civilization known as my family.”

“'Tis a wee bit of an adventure, aye, but worthwhile in the end.”

They spent the next hour going through the rigors of security and making their way to their gate.

“We have some time before boarding. We should eat.”

She shook her head. “I'm not hungry but please go ahead.” She gestured to the row of empty seats lining the plate-glass window that served as one wall of the waiting area. “I'll be over there when you get back.”

He thought about skipping the food and staying with her, but his stomach was growling. Loudly. He also suspected she could use a few minutes of solitude to gather her thoughts without him hovering about. “I'll return shortly. Can I bring you anything?”

She shook her head. “I'm fine, really.”

He headed off toward the food vendors, thinking he should use the time apart to call Roan and update him on what was going on. And likewise get an update on what was going on back home. He was certain they were anxiously waiting to hear a progress report. But he was oddly reluctant to share the news with them as yet. They'd be thrilled. Then the real circus would begin, and…it seemed as if there'd been enough circus for one day. Katie needed some respite. And so, for that matter, did he. There hadn't been time for jet lag to creep in and he was already winging his way back home. Preferable, to be certain, but perhaps he needed some time to collect his thoughts about the whirlwind his life had become every bit as much as Katie did.

He found a small coffee vendor, and decided to get her a cup and a muffin. She'd need something other than airplane food to see her through the long flight. He stopped and picked up some trail mix, a couple bottles of water, and tossed in a bar of chocolate as well, before heading back to the gate. He scanned their seating area as he crossed the passageway to their section, then slowed as he spied her. She had her small roll-on propped next to her, and was leaning against the pillar next to her seat. Sound asleep, from the looks of it.

Seeing the weariness and fatigue lining her lovely face, even in sleep, had him acknowledging his own exhaustion. Mentally, physically. He wouldn't mind checking out for a few hours, either. Instead, he carefully set her coffee and muffin on the table next to her, then took the seat next to hers, leaned back while sipping his cappuccino…and watched over her.

By the time he'd drained the cup, he felt at least a semblance of humanity seep back into his system. They had several hours before boarding. He didn't want to disturb her, but didn't feel right sitting there, leaving her slumped uncomfortably against the hard pillar. He shifted a little and eased her slumbering form toward him.