Some Like It Scot (8 page)

She sighed and looked a bit wistful at that. “That, I'd have enjoyed.”

“Well, I can't say that you won't be overrun with McAuley history while on Kinloch, because you'll be literally overrun with McAuleys. So you may have the chance to catch up a wee bit on those very anecdotes.”

“Would this be in between all the peace and quiet I'm going to have?” she asked with a laugh.

He laughed with her. “They'll respect your need for privacy and a chance to explore at your own pace.”

There was a pause, then she said, “Really?” quite dubiously.

He tried to maintain a straight expression, but the grin wouldn't be contained. “No' a hope in hell, actually. But once I set some boundaries, they'll contain themselves.”
Or answer to me
, he thought, but didn't say to her. She was very much in a place where her independence was at the forefront of her mind, and he respected that. He'd do what needed to be done behind the scenes as much as possible, and allow her to find her own way. At least where she could. At the very least, he'd attempt to allow her to steer the course, as she'd called it. It was important to her, and it was of utmost importance to him to do what it took to keep her happy. And willing to marry him.

He leaned back in his seat a little, as the enormity of that little bit of reality sunk another layer deeper into his psyche.

“I know I joked about it,” she said, her voice barely a soft intrusion into the growing silence, “but…do you plan to tell them?”

“Tell who about what?”

“Your people. Your…clan. About where I was, and what I was about to do, when we decided to join forces?”

That gave him pause. “I-I hadn't really thought about it.”

“You really didn't know, did you? That I was the bride. Or that the bride was the woman you'd come to find and whisk away to your ancestral home.”

“No, I had no idea. I'm certain if Roan had mentioned that little tidbit, I'd have never boarded the ferry.”

“So, your friend, he knew?”

Graham nodded. “Oh, I'm certain of that, aye. He was quite explicit about arriving at the chapel before the ceremony began. Better to search out my target, he explained. It truly never once occurred to me you'd be the bride herself. I presume it was your online interaction with friends and family regarding your impending nuptials that made you easier to track down, along with the lineage.”

“Yes,” she said, her thoughts appearing to drift as the whole thing likely played through her mind. “You're probably right.”

They fell into silence again for a moment or two, then she said, “So you know my lineage, at least as it pertains to yours. And you know about the boats, as you call them. What else do you know?” The wary edge in her tone returned, and he couldn't fault her for it.

He'd all but abducted her, albeit willingly on her part, from her own wedding. He could understand how she might have come to realize, now that things were calming down enough to think clearly, that perhaps she'd leapt from frying pan to fire. He tried to calm her concerns before she edged toward panic and demanded the driver pull over and let her out.

“Rest assured, I've no interest in anything your family has, or that you have, for that matter, other than a legal tie to your last name. And then, only as it pertains to what I need it for at home. I'm no' in need of anything more, Katie, on that you've my word.”

She nodded, but the wariness remained. He'd merely have to prove to her he was a man of his word.

“You mentioned your family has similar ties to the Sheffields, as mine does with your clan. That would be your fiancé's family.”

Her expression grew decidedly more agitated.
Brilliant strategy, there, MacLeod.

“Former fiancé,” she corrected, sadness filling her crystal blue eyes, making him feel even worse. “Yes, we are as connected as we can possibly be and have it all be legal and genetically sound. And would continue to be, if I'd stayed and done my part.”

Graham didn't ask her to elaborate, but rather tried to move her back to more neutral ground, if there was a such a thing. “Your two families have built a very successful industry together, aye?” Her gaze grew more shuttered, so he braced his hand on the back of the seat and turned to face her more directly. “I'm only tryin' to make conversation, to get to know you. I canno' be more sincere when I say, I dinnae care about your family industry as it pertains to their wealth, Katie. I have my own ancestry, my own people.”

“Your own wealth?”

“By my measure, I am the wealthiest of men. But not because of what's in the bank's coffers.”

She folded her arms, her expression sliding from distrustful to merely annoyed. It was a step. “So you're broke.”

“Hardly. It's no' your personal money I'm after, either. As I said, only your name, and only as it relates to mine.”

She spurted a wry laugh then. “Good thing. Because my name is all I will have. I can guarantee you that before we even arrive at BWI, any access I have to any account, credit, bank, or otherwise, will have already been frozen.”

Graham frowned. “Surely they wouldn't be so punitive as to—on your wedding day. I mean, I know they are upset, that's understandable, but—”

“But nothing. You don't know my parents. Or Blaine's. Trust me. I thought you weren't interested in my money?”

He reminded himself again that it was perfectly normal for her to be reacting that way, but he wasn't used to being questioned on his moral standing and he was becoming a little impatient in getting her to see that, to believe it. “I'm no'. I was concerned for your sake. You've just made a daring choice, and it seems like a big enough hurdle you're leaping, without the added burden of losing what security you have left.”

She kept her arms folded, but didn't say anything to that.

“Don't worry about finances. At least, no' now. I know ye want to do things on your own, and as you can, please do as you will. But allow me to at least make you welcome, as my guest, for the time being. I will make sure you want for nothing. I—it will likely not meet the standards to which you're accustomed,” he added, for the first time in his life feeling a bit abashed about his actual standing. He didn't much like that, either. “It's no' very posh, I admit, or at all, really. A bit rustic, comparatively speaking, I'm certain. But I promise to keep you warm, dry, fed, clothed, and as happy and content as I can.”

“I appreciate the gesture, Graham, I do, but I'm not going—”

“I don't take your agreement to come with me lightly. Far from it. In fact, because of your kind, generous nature in even considering my offer, you could be the one that saves my clan from possible economic ruin, which is the same as the ruination of Kinloch. Ye're our angel of mercy. I've no intent on treating you ill. As I said in the garden, I will offer an agreement that will be as good an advantage for ye as I can make it. On that you have my word. And while ye havnae come to know it yet, my word actually means something to me.”

Her folded arms loosened a bit and her shoulders lost some of their stiffness as he continued to hold her gaze quite directly.

“I—thank you,” she said, somewhat stiltedly, as if she was suddenly the one at a loss for the right words to say. “I didn't mean to insult you. It's just…you have to understand, coming from the life I had, the family I'm part of, most men I meet—it was one of the main reasons, I think, that Blaine and I stuck together like we did. There were a lot of things he could never be to me, but the one thing I know, as deep in my heart as I could ever know, is that I can trust him.” Her words were filled with the same sadness and deep affection he'd heard in her voice before. It was hard not to be moved by it.

“You love him,” Graham stated, not as a question, for it was clear on her face, and in every word she spoke.

“I do.”

“So why no' marry him?”

She looked down at her hands as she twisted her fingers together. “He's family to me. In many ways, the only real family I have, if you're talking about the loving, supportive kind. And I am that for him. We grew up together, more like puppies from the same litter. It was always assumed, for as long as I can recall, that we'd end up together. Our families openly wanted that and acted accordingly.”

“And you and Blaine?”

“We went along, at least at first. It was a grand game as children, then a trusted bond as adolescents.”

“And as teenagers?”

She ducked her head again. “That's when it became something of a challenge. But we'd agreed for so long, allowed them to mold us, push us, for so long, mostly because it was just easier that way. We always thought we'd each meet someone, and take our stand when it finally mattered. Only we never did. Or I never did. Blaine didn't want to push it, and so we never said anything, never told them…”

“What? That you were more siblings than romantic partners in your feelings for each other?”

“Oh, they knew that. Anyone with eyes in their head could see we had no romantic interest in each other.”

“Yet they continued to presume—”

“Oh, you have no idea how presumptuous they can be. My parents as well as Blaine's, are both in marriages that are and always have been far more advantageous business arrangements than love matches. They see that kind of dispassionate union as powerful, because you're not compromising any part of yourself, while acknowledging that the whole is stronger than the sum of its parts—particularly as it applies to the company bottom line. When it comes to McAuley-Sheffield, it's always about the bottom line. So it wouldn't have mattered if we'd hated each other on sight at birth, the outcome would have been all the same. In fact, I'm sure they saw our tight bond as a detriment, only because that kind of thing clouds good judgment.”

She recited that last part as if she'd heard it quoted to her on a frequent basis. Given her rather chilling description of her family, he wouldn't doubt that she had. He could also see why she'd clung to her childhood friend for so long. He'd been the one source of unconditional love she'd had.

“It does sound quite dispassionate, aye, but then my country's history is rife with far more arranged marriages than no'. On my very own island, our own history is much the same. Though I'm fortunate enough to have been raised by parents, at least early on, and grand and great grandparents, each of whom made a fully committed love match, that just also happened to fulfill clan laws.”

“But not you?”

“Well, I wasna exactly focused on looking. My efforts and energies have been focused elsewhere for a long time, in service to my clan, and to our future.”

“Even when you knew it was coming? Or did your turn as…what is it called? Island leader?”

“Clan chief. Laird.”

“Right. That. Did that come suddenly?”

“No' entirely, no. But everyone knows my heart is fully dedicated to seeing us through, to better times.”

“If this other person, Iain, did you say? If he hadn't shown up, do you think you'd still be stuck with fulfilling the law?”

“I had thoughts on how to get past it.”

“How?”

“The law is outdated, kept more out of sentiment than need. I thought to get them to vote it out of existence.”

“Would they have?”

He lifted a shoulder. “I canno' say, but the vote had to be unanimous, so it would have taken some doing with the elders on the island.”

“But that would have bought you time, either way.”

“Aye.”

“And then this guy shows up. Do you know what he wants with the island?”

“None, other than he has no qualms over fulfilling the requirements.”

“Surely, if your island is so small and closeknit, no one would agree to marry—”

“There are far more MacLeod lasses on Kinloch, than McAuleys of the same sex and age. Luck of birth. Our Mr. Iain McAuley, most recently of Edinburgh, appears quite able to offer a life far different than our humble island home provides, to the lucky lass whose eye he catches. So nay, I canno' trust that they'll no' agree to his proposition.”

“If you could get them to repeal the law before he finds someone to marry him, would that solve the problem?”

“Likely, aye, but as I said, 'tis a gamble, and no' one I'm certain it would be wise to take. Just like our culture still embraces the Gaelic language of our ancestors, along with many of the traditions and methods, I've been made to realize, despite the challenges that face us as an island dwelling clan, as a whole, we're no' so progressive as all that. It matters no' to them if Iain beats me to the altar. He'll be the clan laird in name and deed, and, saddened or no', they'll honor that.” He lifted his gaze to find hers on him. He found her remarkably easy to be candid with. In fact, he couldn't recall a time when he had been such a chatty fellow. “I suppose that is the final irony.”

“What is?”

“I do take the vows of marriage quite seriously. I didn't want the law repealed because I didn't believe in the union, or what the true strength of such a bond could provide, both for me personally, and for the clan, on numerous levels. I just wanted the freedom to—”

“Choose your own mate, on your own schedule, your own way,” she finished, then sighed. “I understand. Fully.”

“Aye,” he said, quietly. “I imagine you do.”

Silence fell again, only this time it was easier. When she reached out and covered his hand with hers, he couldn't help but think that the irony was still not complete. Her hand in his. As it would be, in marriage. How the both of them, only wanting that true bond of love and marriage…and look where they sat. He became quite specifically aware of how her skin felt beneath his fingers as he turned his hand and slid his through hers. Odd, he thought, how such slender fingers, almost fragile in appearance, belonged to a woman with such grit and determination.