Some Like It Scot (23 page)

During the time Ualraig had been ill and the leadership responsibilities, along with the burden of their crop and economic issues, had increasingly fallen on Graham's shoulders, Malvy had proven to be a good listener with a knack for sound advice. One that Graham had availed himself of on more than one occasion.

It was rare he had reason to leave Kinloch anymore, so he didn't see Malvy often. In fact, when he'd come through on his way to Oban, more than a year had passed since Graham had laid eyes on the man. They'd spent a few minutes catching up, and he'd somehow found himself blurting out the entire preposterous plan. The older man had raised an eyebrow at the idea, but ended up shrugging and saying Graham's own forefathers had certainly bound themselves together for far less. Any further discussion had been interrupted by other passengers coming in to purchase tickets or get Malvy's thoughts on the weather, the fishing, or any number of other things the man seemed to have uncannily accurate knowledge of.

“So…ye traveling alone, are ye?” Malvy asked him, as he processed the ticket payment, then handed Graham the slip.

“It would appear so,” Graham said, knowing Malvy hadn't meant it as anything other than a statement of fact. He was the most non-judgmental man Graham had ever met, which, combined with the rest of his talents, made him a decent and honorable man, in addition to being a trusted friend.

The older man merely nodded. “We'll be leaving port at half past. Weather's clearing to the west, so you'll be in sunshine by the time ye land on yer own bonny shores.”

Graham nodded. “Good.” He pocketed the payment slip and ticket, but made no move to leave the small office. It was warm and dry, and though he could pre-board since the ferry was ready and waiting, he knew Malvy wouldn't mind if he hung around until it was time to leave port.

Proving that, the old man lifted his cup. “Tea?” he asked. “Possibly a shot of something to make ye forget you're wearing what smells like wet lamb.”

Graham immediately lifted his arm and sniffed, which sent Malvy into a gurgling fit of laughter.

“Get's 'em every time,” he said, before covering his mouth as he coughed through the last laugh.

Graham shot him a quelling look. “Aye, well, I'm certain I'd do well for a shower at the moment. It's first on my list when I arrive back, rest assured.” He hadn't gotten one the night before, and that morning it hadn't been the first thing on his mind. Chilled and damp from the rain as he was, it was just as well he hadn't wasted the water. Though the soap and a razor wouldn't have been looked at askance.

“Mind explainin' the dress clothes? And wha' happened to your duffel?” Malvy lifted his tea cup and motioned with it.

“I went to church,” Graham said simply. “The service demanded something more than work trews and a field shirt. My wardrobe in between the two is a bit wanting.”

“How many days ago was that?”

“Amusing,” Graham said. “I'm well aware of how I must look.”

“Ye're not tellin' me ye got all dressed up and went to church because ye did the deed and tied the knot while ye were there? Wouldn't it need to happen here on Scottish soil? And where is the fair lass?”

“No, I didn't get married.”

“More's the pity. What I hear, Iain McAuley is quite the charmer.”

Graham's gaze narrowed. “Since when did you join the gossip mill?”

Malvy's smile spread to a grin, but there was a hard light in his eyes. “Since some young buck with more education than sense thinks he can just come along and tear asunder what good-hearted, loyal, hard-working lads like yourself have spent an entire lifetime building up.”

Graham's expression smoothed, even as he felt the beginning of a headache thrum along his temples.
And so it is about to start
, he thought. Best he be prepared. “Tell me what ye know.”

“What I don't know is what the little lamb thinks he wants with some godforsaken island out in the middle of the sea.”

Graham lifted an eyebrow at that description, but Malvy waved him off with a dismissive snort. “One man's treasure island is another man's sinking ship. I know the struggles you and your grandfather faced, and what you will continue to face in years to come. No' much of an inheritance for some posh pup used to the finer things.”

“Agreed. So, why do you think he's come? Have you heard anything?”

Malvy lifted a shoulder, took another sip of tea. “Nothing specific. Maybe he thinks he can parlay your basket-making industry to something more, or perhaps he thinks he can sell the whole thing off…or worse, back to its own people.”

Graham snorted. “He's in for a hell of a disappointment then. We are finally turning the corner toward greater prosperity, but our coffers are filled with the hope of a better future. Not as much with actual money or collateral.”

“You and I know that—”

“If he's an educated man, then so would he. It's no' hard to figure out. One walk about the place would show that we're no' exactly living like kings in our own castles. Most especially mine.”

Malvy lifted a shoulder again, and drained his teacup. “So you say, and I agree…but he's come for something. I dinnae simply believe it's the warm, welcoming arms of a bonny MacLeod lass. I'm certain he's more than his fair share of warm and willing lasses back in Edinburgh.”

“To be certain. He's come straight out with it, already, that he's come to claim the island. Stated it baldly in the course of introducing himself. I've just no idea why. But it willnae matter. I plan to put this entire outdated charade to rest, once and for all.”

Malvy slid from his stool and limped his permanently hunched body over to the small hot plate where a brass teakettle rested. “So,” he said, “if ye've no bride trailing behind ye, then what do ye plan to do to thwart the snot nosed, entitled little arse?”

Graham smiled at Malvy's increasingly annoyed comments regarding Iain. “I appreciate your loyalty,” he told the older man as he steeped more tea into his cup, added a bit of honey, and something else from a flask inside his jacket.

“Medicinal,” was all he said, when he caught Graham noticing the sly maneuver.

Graham merely shrugged, but said nothing specifically about it. The man wasn't steering boats any longer. “I take it you met him, directly, then.” When Malvy nodded, he said, “So, are you basing your low opinion of the man strictly on his status as an interloper?” Graham asked, then held up a hand and smiled briefly. “Not that I've a problem with that.”

Malvy took a sip, then settled himself back on his stool. “He's no' one of us,” he told him, flatly. “Make no mistake of it, and warn your people. He never will be.”

Graham listened to Malvy, and he knew—hoped—that many of his people were forming similar opinions about the man, despite his abundant genetic gifts. Graham's thoughts moved along that line of thought to Katie, and he found himself wondering what her reception would have been. She'd have been well liked, for herself, he thought. But as bride to The MacLeod, with some sway over their futures? He wasn't so certain, listening to Malvy, how well she might have fared. She was also from the posh life. And she wasn't even a Scot. Not Scot-born anyway.

The whole of the matter served to reinforce his idea that he had to get his people to see that not only was the Marriage Pact law antiquated and outdated, but it was actually harmful to their continued forward progress, future successes, and ongoing economic stability. Surely they wouldn't put sentiment over security.

He nodded. “I appreciate the counsel.”

Malvy saluted him with his teacup. “Freely given, which is likely what it's worth.”

Graham smiled. “It was good to see ye, Malvy.”

“The same,” he said, flipping open the island paper, the one entirely in Gaelic.

Graham turned and had his hand on the office door, then turned back. “If I had come back with an American McAuley bride on my arm, say one with a similar background as Iain's, would your response have been the same as with him? About never being one of us?”

Malvy paused mid-sip, took a moment to ponder the question, then said, “Depends on the bride.”

“Would it? I mean, she wouldn't have been one of us, no matter what she was made of or how well liked she may have been.”

“Aye, but she'd be on your arm, as your wife. If you trusted her, perhaps even loved her, it wouldn't be the same at all. Iain McAuley is an interloper with no connection to Kinloch or anyone on it. She'd be on Kinloch as your wife.”

“And if McAuley marries someone from the island? Same thing?”

“Again, depends on the bride. But given your standing, the bride ye brought home to work at your side, one who would have your best interests and by extension, your people's best interests at heart, would share the goodwill and good graces ye've earned from a lifetime spent dedicated to those same people. Iain would be husband to an islander, who, while perhaps well liked, or even beloved, wouldn't—couldn't—be of your stature when compared with the entire citizenry.”

Graham thought about that. “So, I'd have the edge, is what you're saying. Even if she were an outsider.”

“Aye,” Malvy said, with a nod. “Even if.” Then he leveled an amused smile at Graham. “Is this outsider bride still a possibility?”

Graham shook his head, sorry as he was to dash the obvious pleasure the possibility would have given Malvy. What surprised him was how heavy the weight of disappointment was in his own hopes being dashed as well. But it was a decision already made. By him, initially. And acted upon, by the bride herself. He could only lay the blame with himself. “I think there are better solutions to the problem than marrying a stranger.”

“Hmm,” Malvy said, as he sipped his fresh cup of tea. “I suppose you'll be having a chance to find that out for yourself.”

Graham frowned briefly. Malvy's tone was…an amused one, which was a bit surprising, given his very real ire at the thought of Iain's attempted insurgence. “I suppose I will,” Graham said, keeping his own tone neutral. He turned again, paused again, debated questioning Malvy on his curious reply, but the horn sounded.

“Safe crossing,” Malvy said, and saluted Graham again with his tea cup as Graham waved good-bye and let himself out of the office.

The rain was lighter, but still steady, so he jogged down to the loading ramp, hoping the passenger list was short and he'd have an empty seat inside the narrow, central interior. Although the chances of not knowing any of the passengers was highly improbable, he found himself hoping the only other people on board were tourists or fishermen. He wasn't ready to talk to anyone, at least not until he spoke with Roan or Shay. He certainly didn't want to answer any speculation about why he was dressed in the manner he was.

With thoughts of getting inside as quickly as possible and finding a far corner to hole up in for the duration of the ride, he put his head down and kept his movement swift and focused on achieving that goal. Not rude, exactly, but not inviting conversation.

It wasn't until he'd managed to find such a corner, that he allowed himself a deep breath, then settled more fully into his seat, turning his head enough to keep his gaze focused outward, toward the rail and beyond, to the horizon. And home.

After a few full minutes had elapsed, a vague image tickled his brain enough for him to pause in his thoughts of planning what to say to Roan and Shay first, then to the rest of the islanders. Slowly he lowered his gaze and scanned the floor to his left.

How could he have missed that…that dreaded pile of stitched leather? He'd carried each and every one of those damn things all the way from Annapolis to Castlebay.

He lifted his gaze, even as a rocket punch of adrenaline shot straight to his heart…and looked straight into the bright, blue eyes of Katie McAuley.

“Hello, Graham. I saved you a seat.”

K
atie had been so worried about what he'd say when he saw her on the ferry, she hadn't taken into consideration how she was going to feel upon seeing him. The morning after. The morning after the intensely primal, thoroughly unforgettable, life-altering sex they didn't really have. A hard knock of lust and…something…thumped her the instant she laid eyes on him. The lust she was gaining a handle on, at least in terms of expecting it.

But that other part, the something part…was a mix of affection and longing, desire and need, all of which had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with wanting to strip that plaid right off him and climb on his lap right there on the damn ferry. It was that something part that was really scaring the bejesus out of her. The truth of it was, Graham MacLeod mattered to her. That man, that giant, scowling man mattered.

“I thought we'd agreed,” he finally said, his expression flattening out until she couldn't get a read on him at all.

Other than that she didn't think he was exactly thrilled to see her. “No,” she said, “you decided.”

“And what part of that was confusing to ye?”

She leaned back, surprised by the sharp tone. She'd thought he'd be surprised, possibly a little upset that she'd left without saying good-bye, but after last night—not just the during part, but the afterward part, and the after the afterward part, where they'd slept all wrapped around each other all night long—she thought that part would be uppermost in his mind and predispose him to be happy to see her.

Apparently, she'd gotten it all wrong.

“I wasn't confused by any part of it,” she said, striving not to sound chilled or hurt, though both were right there for the taking. “I woke up this morning, intent on doing as you'd asked.” She didn't mention the part where her heart had ached to the point of breaking at the thought of never seeing him again, and how she'd cried like a baby while in the shower, praying she'd get herself under control before he came in and found her. Mercifully, he'd still been asleep, giving her the critical time she needed to start the process of separating herself from him.

“You know how I feel about asking for handouts, so since you needed the sleep, I figured I would go see about cashing in my honeymoon tickets, at least for enough to stake my trip home. Make a start down the road of standing on my own two feet. I mean, you were going to Kinloch, I was out. I had to start somewhere.”

“I'd no' have left you to fend for yourself in Castlebay. Surely you knew that?”

“I don't want to be a responsibility to you, Graham,” she said, the hurt squeezing her heart again. There were a lot of things she wanted to be to him, but a responsibility was a distant last. “So I did what felt right. For me. But when it came time to book passage to Oban, I couldn't decide where to go from there. I have no home and the one I did have I'm not willing to go back to. The honeymoon tickets were gone. So that left me with sticking to the plan I had when I left the church. The plan you offered me. At least the part that included time for me to think things through.

“I realize the marriage offer, or the business deal, however you want to define it, is no longer an option. But I thought perhaps you'd be kind enough to make good on the rest of your offer. I can book my own room, and I won't be a bother to you. You don't even have to pretend you know me.” She looked down, the burden of trying to remain aloof and unaffected by his outright rejection wearing thinner, faster than she'd hoped. “I've asked for damn little, Graham, given what you've asked of me. I don't think this is entirely out of line. And I don't see where it can harm your cause.”

“Other than the fact that by your very presence, you provide an alternate solution to every traditionalist on the island, which is damn near all of them.”

She continued to stare at her hands. She hadn't really thought about it that way. Okay, if she were honest, she hadn't really thought about it much at all, other than knowing that getting on the ferry back to Oban, and onward to the States, had made her feel physically ill, whereas the idea of Kinloch had filled her with a sense of relief.

All right, all right. It also happened if she followed that plan, she didn't have to leave Graham quite yet. It was possible, in her weakest moments, she had fantasized if he saw her, on Kinloch, happy and wanting to be there strictly by choice, and not by some grand scheme, he'd continue on with her. They would have time to discover if there was truly something between them.

Her thoughts flashed to when she'd first woken up that morning—still in his arms, where she'd slept like a baby. There had definitely been something between them then. The rest of him might have been dead asleep, but there was nothing dead about what she'd felt pressing hard between her thighs. She'd been half awake when he'd groaned and moved against her. She responded, kissing his chest and tipping her chin up so she could pull his head down to hers for a long kiss.

Only to come awake enough to realize she wasn't dreaming, and he wasn't awake…and she needed to get the hell off that bed before she did something she might regret. Except the only regret she'd had as she'd let herself out of the room was not letting nature take its course. Maybe then they'd have had that very conversation while in a much better frame of mind.

But looking at him, hearing his tone—a tone he'd never once used with her—made her feel better about not giving in earlier. He might have tossed her out of bed right on her ass.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “You're right, I didn't think of that. I'll simply explain to them that I've said no. I'll even champion whatever path it is you want to take.”

He looked away and she hated that he didn't feel comfortable making eye contact with her.

“Well,” she said, quietly, as the silence grew deafening. Brushing off her pants and smoothing her light sweater, she stood. To think she'd felt well rested and happy after a good night's sleep, hot shower, and a clean set of clothes…if still a bit restless from the activities of the night before. Wishing she'd had more of the real thing, she'd hesitated in the doorway, watching him sleep before she'd gone downstairs. “I believe I'll go find myself somewhere else to sit. And don't worry. I'll be on the next ferry out. You won't even have to touch a single suitcase.”

She turned away, but hadn't gone two steps when he said, “Why did you leave like you did?”

She looked back. “What?”

“This morning. I woke up and you were gone.”

She turned back to face him fully. Was that was this…pout of his was all about? His feelings had been hurt? She wasn't sure how she felt about that. Amused, maybe. And surprised he cared enough that her leaving—which he'd asked her to do!—could hurt his feelings.

“I told you, I went to cash my tickets in, and I arranged to have the luggage taken down to the ferry. I came back upstairs then, thinking maybe we'd share a breakfast, say our good-byes.”

“Admirable plan. What went wrong?”

Wow, she thought. He was really angry. Furious, if she looked behind the flat gray eyes and even tone.

“You were still dead asleep.”
And I was still feeling very restless, and heavily tempted to climb right back in that bed with you and see if visions really can come true,
she thought, but couldn't bring herself to say. “You've had a long couple of days, and I had the ferry to catch. I tried to write you a note. Three times, before I gave up. What was I supposed to say? I couldn't just leave word with Mrs. Ardingall. You're a private man and I knew that wouldn't have been appreciated. She didn't ask any questions when I paid, and I didn't offer any explanations. So…I thought, given how things can get with us at times, maybe it was simply better to just go.”

“Getting good at that, it appears.”

She folded her arms. “Why are you being so rude and hurtful? Yes, I suppose I should have woken you up to say good-bye. But I stood there, watching you sleep, thinking about what had happened the night before, and that's all I could think about.”

Graham straightened in his seat and she realized she'd raised her voice a little and worked to tone it down.

“So, if it's honesty you want from me, then here it is. I was afraid. Afraid if I so much as touched you, shook your shoulder, either we'd be catapulted back to where we went last night, or you'd just yank me down on the bed and we'd see what reality was like.”

“Why would ye think—”

“Let's just say there were parts of you that were very awake this morning and that made quite an…impression on me,” she said in a fierce whisper, gratified when his eyes widened a bit and some of the hard lines in his face softened when his jaw relaxed a bit. “Let's just say I was responding to that because I'm female and still breathing. And you were definitely enjoying yourself. But you were asleep. And I knew—” Dammit, her voice caught. She worked hard to swallow the tightness away and keep her composure. McAuleys never lost it in public. “I knew if I kept on down that path, and we did…anything else, I'd have a much harder time leaving you than I was already having. Okay? Does that make you happier? So, after much debate, I decided it was best to just go.”

“Then you booked passage to Kinloch,” he said, but his tone was grudging, the chill gone, if not all the anger.

“I explained that. I went all the way to the other ferry. Barnaby hauled me and my luggage down there. I was in the ticket office. But all I could think was I'd hardly had any time to think about anything, and I wasn't ready yet to go back home and face…God knows what. I wanted some time. Needed some time. I thought about finding a room in Oban. Barnaby, he…” She lifted a hand, let it drop.

“He what?” Graham's gaze had sharpened again. “What did he do?”

She looked at Graham, into his eyes, surprised at the possessive edge that had crept into his tone, and wondered if he was aware of it. Maybe she was mistaken. Maybe he was still pissed off and worried Barnaby was going to complicate things. “He didn't do anything. But he felt bad, thinking something must have happened between us if I was turning right around and heading back to the mainland. I couldn't tell him the truth.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I didn't tell him anything. I let him assume…what he assumed. We were at the dock and I wasn't getting out of his truck. He asked me if I thought I was doing the right thing. Of course, he thought we'd had a fight or something. But I took his question seriously anyway. I couldn't help thinking that no, I didn't think I was doing the right thing. So I said that.” She slid her folded arms a bit more tightly, more holding herself than making a shield. “And he said maybe it was best to stand my ground, and do whatever I thought I had to do to make things right.” She looked away, blew out a sigh, then looked at Graham, who was back to his steady, inscrutable regard of her. “That's when I thought about your offer, and what I still wanted from it. So, I just”—she lifted a shoulder—“I just had him take me to the other dock, and I went to the office and the man there was so nice and friendly—”

“Malvy.” Graham swore under his breath. “He knew. The whole time. Smug bastard.”

“Don't blame him for anything. He was very polite and helped me take care of everything from the luggage to, well, everything. He—I felt better. Immediately better. I knew it was the right thing. It was too late then, to get back to the inn to tell you what I'd decided to do, and it was raining pretty good. Plus Barnaby had already taken off, so I opted to come aboard and wait for you. I knew you'd be surprised, but I didn't think you'd be angry.”

“I'm no'—”

“Oh, but you are. Furious, even. Maybe a little hurt that I didn't say good-bye. I am sorry about that. I'd have felt the same. Maybe worse—if you'd done the same to me.”

He looked at her then. “You said you didn't wake me because it would have been harder to say good-bye. Only now you're here…prolonging things between us anyway.”

She walked over then and sank down in the seat next to him. “I didn't think the rest through. I am sorry for that, too. This isn't any easier for me than it is for you, though I know it's for different reasons. I was thinking about me, and what I wanted. I really didn't think it would matter to you one way or the other since I wasn't going to rely on you for boarding me or anything. I didn't—I didn't think about the rest.” She laid a hand on his arm without thinking, then froze. As did he.

Their gazes immediately locked, and neither one so much as breathed. But a beat went by, then another, and they were both still sitting next to each other on the ferry. She let out a shaky breath. “Sorry, I forgot,” she murmured, but he covered her hand before she could pull it away.

“No, that would be my line.”

She looked up into his face. “What?”

“I'm sorry. It shouldn't have mattered, what you did, or how you chose to take your leave. No one was more surprised than me how angry it made me, to think you could walk away. Despite the fact that we'd already decided to do just that. So I had no cause to be upset with ye.”

“But you were. You really were,” she added, still surprised, and hurt a little herself at the tone he'd used.

He jerked a nod. “Fiercely so.”

It shouldn't have warmed her, that short nod of assent, and the gruff note in his voice. But it did. So complicated, this…thing between them. She wished it wasn't but didn't see how they could get to anything normal. Nothing that had happened between them from the moment they met—nothing internally, externally, in the world, or the unexplainable parallel one they'd stumbled into, none of it—approached anything close to normal.

She moved her fingers under his. He tucked his between hers and squeezed. “I am sorry,” she said quietly. “I was just…confused, I guess. You confuse me, this”—she rubbed her fingers under his—“this confuses me. All of it. I don't know how to act. We're both so afraid of finding one of those trigger things, we never know what to say or do, and I just…I tried to leave. I did try.” She trailed off and looked down at their joined hands. His so broad and strong, scarred and weather worn. Hers far more delicate, perfectly manicured and well maintained. It was an appropriate metaphor for who they were as people, compared to each other. He'd never fit in her world, and she realized she'd only complicate his. He didn't need that. She didn't know what she needed. No point in making things harder for him, though, while she figured it out.