Some Like It Scot (16 page)

“It's beautiful, Graham,” she said, smiling up into his face. “I didn't expect the mountains and the—all of it. It's stunning.”

Not, “wow, it's so tiny,” or “how do you survive on such a spit of land.” No, she'd gasped, smiled, and called it stunning.

As was she, he thought, lowering his head as he turned her more fully into his arms, his actions no longer under his control. Surely,
he
wouldn't be taking that step—not when he most needed to gird himself, and gather his wits about him.

But he didn't check the motion. Didn't even try.

The truth was, he'd wanted to kiss Katherine Elizabeth Georgina Rosemary McAuley since he'd first laid eyes on her—dressed to wed another man. A stranger. Yet it felt like he'd waited eons already, before he took what he knew to be his.

K
atie froze, just for a split second, as she tried to shift gears from her excitement at seeing the island, and focus on the idea, the possibility that Graham was going to—

“Oh,” she said, rather breathlessly, as he slid his hand to the back of her neck and tipped her mouth up to his. “Graham—”

He paused. She hadn't really thought he would. There was that fierce light in his eyes again. She'd seen it in the chapel…and again in the limo…the taxi, too. They'd been interrupted, every time. Her grip on his shoulders tightened, which was when she became aware she'd grabbed hold of him. And not with the intent to push him away.

“Aye, Katie?” he said, his gaze so intently focused on her face, most specifically her mouth, that any intelligent response she might have given was rendered pointless.

She was too busy trying to shore up her suddenly wobbling legs.

“You—we—should we be…?”

“Probably not,” he said, his voice like a sanding block against teak, “but I'm no' thinkin' so clearly at the moment,
mo chridhe
. So if ye feel ye should stop me, say so now.” He lowered his head another fraction of an inch.

She could feel the warmth of his breath mingle with hers, his lips were so close. So close she only had to lift the tiniest bit onto her toes to brush her lips against them. The yearning to taste him, to feel what it would be like to tap into that focus, that intensity, that…ferocity, all aimed so potently at her…by doing something as simple, as wonderful, as mating her mouth to his…was overwhelmingly powerful.

In the end, she decided the matter for him—and for herself. Lifting to her toes, she brushed her lips against his. Standing, as it happened, on her own two feet. Making her own choices. Taking control of her life. Taking, for once, what she wanted.

He let her kiss him, accepting without taking, and she felt his shoulders flex under the pressure of her fingers, even as she heard the soft groan come from somewhere deep inside his chest. “Katie,” he murmured against her mouth. “
Mo chridhe
.”

She had no idea what that meant, but the way he said it made her toes curl. Something deep inside her began to unfurl, and her kiss grew more insistent.

An instant later she was cradled fully against his chest as he bent his head to hers and shifted the kiss to one of need and possession.

She had absolutely no problem with that. She was feeling a bit needy and possessive herself at that moment.

He slid his hands around to cup her face. His palms were broad, and warm, and callused. Strong and steady, they were like a sturdy frame she could center herself between. His lips were warm, firm, and tasted a bit salty from the sea spray and wind, making her wonder if she tasted the same to him.

She tipped up a bit more onto her toes, wanting more of him, feeling suddenly as if she'd been starved and had been offered an endless feast.

She supposed the description wasn't far from the truth. She and Blaine had never been intimate at any point in their lives, but despite knowing they'd end up bound forever in some way, they'd never been foolish enough to believe that their deep, abiding friendship would be enough.

That was why, when Tag had come along, she'd encouraged Blaine to pursue him. There had been others before, but they'd been teenage crushes or the shallow flings of the newly liberated college student. Tag had been the first serious threat to Blaine's heart and Katie had wanted him to follow that call. Even to the point of discussing his coming out, to his family, to everyone, so he could have what would make him truly happy. Men had given up kingdoms for love, surely the world wouldn't end if Blaine gave up McAuley-Sheffield for his.

Though he had fallen head over heels, he'd never found the courage to do what his heart begged him—what she'd begged him—to do.

In the end, he hadn't heeded either. His heart, because he'd wanted it too badly to risk losing it all. Or her, because he said she didn't really know what she was talking about.

She'd had her own schoolgirl crushes, and she'd thought she'd found love in college. In the end, it had just been convenient sex. She'd never found her equivalent to Blaine's Tag. After her college debacle, she hadn't been in any big hurry to repeat that painful mistake. Once she'd graduated and gone to work for the company, she hadn't been able to figure out how to conduct a private life that would remain truly private. Her parents could believe whatever they would about her relationship with Blaine. She'd never lied to them about her feelings for him. Whether they knew, or suspected what the full truth was, on either side, she had no idea. It wasn't as if they discussed intimate matters. But, to her mind anyway, it had to be painfully obvious to anyone who knew them, or spent any time with them.

Yet the farce continued. What mattered was what people assumed they knew, not necessarily what was actually true. What mattered was the face one showed to the world, not what one might privately feel. How many times had her parents drilled that into her? That it was all about projecting what you wanted the world to believe to be true. Perception was a reality you could control. So, no way would she have set herself up, much less someone else, for the potential scandal that would ensue if she'd been discovered to be “cheating” on Blaine.

So it was only natural, normal even, for her to be feeling like a sex-starved maniac. Because…wasn't she? Starving?

“Katie?”

She blinked her eyes open, to find Graham's face an inch or two from hers, his steady regard still intent, but combined with sincere concern.

“What?” she whispered, then lifted her hand to her face…and realized the salty taste hadn't come from the sea spray, or even Graham for that matter.

Mortified, she scrubbed away the trickle of tears, hoping beyond hope that he'd assume it was merely the wind stinging her eyes. How pathetic could she be? She hadn't thought she could be any more humbled than she'd felt before entering the church the first time…what felt like eons ago. She'd felt silly, and stupid and weak for not standing up to her family, or to Blaine. For not demanding the farce be brought to an end long before she committed the even more egregious sin of marrying a man she loved like a brother, in the presence of God and everyone else she loved and cared about.

She remembered wondering what in the hell she'd been thinking, to believe what she was about to do was actually okay. That she thought she'd been doing it for her family, or for Blaine, or for the greater good of McAuley-Sheffield was hardly a point in her favor. She thought of the pain and frustration that had coursed through her, literally shaking her, as she'd also been forced to confront the ugly truth that her very own parents didn't care she was about to commit what amounted to life perjury—as long as it got them the desired outcome. So why in God's name was she willing to do something so sacrificial for them?

She hadn't believed, hadn't been truly aware until that moment of understanding, some part of her—the part that was still their child—had hoped, prayed, when push came to shove, they'd step forward and tell her it was okay. They loved her and just wanted her to be happy. In that moment, she'd reckoned with the truth. They were never going to do that.

That soul-snatching epiphany is what had sent her into the prayer garden in a fit of self-directed fury. What an idiot she was. What a pathetic, sorry, blind idiot. Of all the people on the planet, she was the last one who should have believed her parents could ever be the loving, supportive image of parenthood they projected to the world. She was the one who knew, without a doubt, it wasn't true. Yet somewhere in her heart she'd wanted to buy what they were selling…just like everybody else.

Enter Graham MacLeod, with his ridiculously insane offer, his solid, sturdy presence, his unbelievable hotness in a kilt, all bundled up with that gentle warrior demeanor.

That same gentle warrior was brushing her hair from her face…but not releasing her when she tried to tug free of his arms.

“Ye dinnae have to flee. I promise I'll keep myself under better control. I—” He broke off, then looked down. “I'm definitely no' in the habit of forcing my attentions on anyone, but with you…” He looked to her again, and her heart squeezed at the true remorse and confusion she saw there. “I don't know what comes over me with you. But it's no' my intention to scare you with inappropriate—”

She impulsively grabbed his face and tugged his mouth to hers. He stiffened, but only for a moment. Then they were both kissing like it was the last feast they'd ever have. She broke the kiss off just as it was about to rocket beyond their control. Again. She felt a little lightheaded, and a lot breathless. “It wasn't inappropriate, Graham. I was most definitely not shedding tears because I was in fear of…anything. Except maybe myself.” He started to speak, but she lifted her finger to his mouth…and felt that wham pow punch all over again.

His pupils had shot wide as well, giving her another glimpse of the desire barely restrained beneath the surface veneer of politeness. When she tried to snatch her hand away, he deftly captured it in his own, and held it between them, their gazes locked and…hungry.

“I'm expecting nothing, Katie,” he said, and she could feel the words all but vibrate against her skin. “Yet I'm discovering I want…everything.” He brought her fingertips to his lips, and kissed them, one by one, while keeping his gaze fixed intently on hers. “I know it's no' sensible, and that we've enough to handle in each of our lives, without further…complications.” He nibbled on one fingertip and she thought she might expire right there from abject desire. “Yet, I cannae seem to bring it to any kind of order. In my head. Or…anywhere else.”

“I-I know,” she managed, her throat tight, every part of her throbbing with more bound up need than she thought it possible for one body to contain. “I-I've allowed my life to go so far afield, I no longer even know who I am, or what I really want. So, I know. I know it's not fair to start anything, or lead you to believe…anything. And yet…” She curled the fingers he held until she held his hand, then pulled it to her own lips, and softly placed a kiss on the back of it, all the while watching his eyes as they remained so focused on her own. “So, I do know, Graham. I just don't know what to do about it.”

“And the tears?” he asked, lowering their joined hands between them, but trapping them against his chest as he tugged her closer.

“Utter confusion, and wishing I knew my own self better. Wishing that I hadn't ended up in a place where I don't know how to respond to what should be the most natural and wonderful form of human connection between two people who are attracted to each other.” She tried to laugh, but it didn't quite come out that way. “I'm messed up, Graham. You don't need that. Or me.” She broke their gaze then, and glanced away, anywhere, it didn't matter since she wasn't seeing anything outwardly at the moment. “I'm not usually pathetic. At least I never felt that way about myself. I knew my responsibilities and I accepted them. I was firm and decisive about how I dealt with…everything. Not remotely pathetic, but proactively dealing with what life had handed me in a specific, well thought-out manner. But I realize now…I've been pathetic the whole time.” She laughed then, and it sounded sorry and sad, even to her own ears. Her throat tightened again, and she honestly didn't think she could bear being humbled any further, though perhaps there was no lower place to go.

“Katie.”

He nudged her chin up until she looked at him. Her eyes were glassy and there didn't seem to be a damn thing she could do about it.

“You are decisive and strong. No' many could put up with the pressures and expectations you have, and handle them so well and so thoroughly. It's no' pathetic to come to realize that you've been looking at things in a way that might have been the best for others, but perhaps not what's best for you. You've been putting everyone else first. And you've finally come to know that, now, it's time to put yourself first. From the moment you reached that bit of knowledge, you acted on it. Firmly decisive—”

“If not particularly well thought-out,” she finished, with a watery laugh.

He cupped her face again, smiling even as the intensity in his voice remained. “What matters is you did it.”

His absolute belief in what he was saying was a powerful force, one that, standing in his arms, his gaze so focused on her own, the steady thrum of his heartbeat vibrating through her, was impossible to defend against. She found she didn't want to. She wanted to believe he was right. With everything she had, she wanted to believe it would all work out, that she hadn't jumped from frying pan to fire. Both in her own life, as it had been up to her church exodus, and standing, on a ferry boat bound for a remote Scottish island. But it was still all too surreal. She'd spent a lifetime wanting to believe things that weren't true. Wanting to believe that everything would somehow magically work out in the end.

And look where that had gotten her.

She ducked her chin away so he was no longer touching her face…but didn't extricate herself from his arms. She knew she had to…and she was working on it. “You're kind and generous, Graham. But you don't really know me. I may look like I'm all those things, but trust me. On the inside, I'm a disaster.”

“Hardly that,” he said, then cocked his head a bit, as if to look more deeply into her soul. She wasn't entirely sure he couldn't. “I know what I see, Katie. Maybe it's a bit of myself I recognize in you. I have something of a personal understanding of the matter.”

“Meaning?”

“You're no' the only one who has woken up to discover that life was suddenly not going as it should, if there is ever to be real personal fulfillment involved.”