“I appreciate that. I-I should have never let it get that far.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Easier to say now that you’ve gotten away.”
“If I’d had the nerve, from the very start, to stand up to them, to stand up for myself. And Blaine. To just stand up at all, frankly. Life would have been different. And it wouldn’t have come to this.”
“Your grandfather, wasn’t he of any help?”
“Oh, he was my biggest motivator. And instigator,” she added, with a smile that was sad and affectionate all at once. “But I wasn’t like him. Or not enough like him, anyway. I didn’t relish the skirmishes like he did, didn’t enjoy the battle royale, much less the stormy aftermath of war. It didn’t even faze him. I think he actually enjoyed it. He used to say he could gauge his success by how many members of the family he’d managed to piss off, on any particular venture.”
“Business venture? Or family?”
“There is no separation between church and state in our McAuley clan. So family is business and vice versa. Same with the Sheffields. I’ve often thought it was amazing that we’d managed to live in separate households—us and the Sheffields, I mean—the way they micromanaged everything and everyone else. Their presence was constant, as if they were always in my backpocket. Or on my shoulder.”
“Sounds rather oppressive. Why didn’t you move out, get your own flat?”
She made a snorting sound, as if he’d asked why hadn’t she merely sprouted two heads. “Moving out on my own would have been tantamount to…well, what I did today. If a might less dramatic.”
“What about university? Did you go away to school?”
She sighed, but there was a smile on her face. “Best years of my life. I’d have gone for my doctorate if I thought they’d let me stay away another few years. I made it through one round of post grad though.”
“Did you ever think of no’ going back home? After you got your degree?”
“Every day,” she said with a dry laugh, then sobered. “But I wasn’t prepared to do that. To suffer the consequences. I loved the autonomy of being on my own, although, don’t get me wrong, they watched over me. Closely. Despite not wanting to go home to them, I did want to go home. To my home. I love Annapolis, love everything about it.”
His shoulders rounded a bit as he thought of Kinloch, and how much he loved it. And there he was, asking her to give up a place that was equally important to her. “Will you go back?” he asked. “I mean, when we’ve sorted things out, and you’ve had some time away after…you know.”
“I honestly don’t know. I can’t imagine not going back, so at some point, I’m sure I will. I just—I have no idea how all that will play out. Not yet.”
She was talking, and he heard every word, but his thoughts, not to mention a good part of the rest of him, were all caught up in the touch of her soft fingertips, stroking the sides of his not-so-soft hands. He wondered if she realized her hand was still touching his.
He certainly hadn’t forgotten.
His gaze was drawn to her slender fingers, tipped with perfectly shaped nails. His gaze fixed on the impression her engagement ring had made on her ring finger, and had him wondering how long she’d worn it. Her fiancé hadn’t looked like a bad sort. Quite the opposite, actually. Sort of like an affectionate puppy, eager to do the bidding of whoever would feed it.
If anything, she’d seemed truly heartbroken to leave him behind. So it wasn’t the fiancé she didn’t love, in some fashion, anyway, but perhaps what the marriage itself represented. She’d alluded to being in much the same situation he was in—which, quite frankly, made it all the more stunning she’d agreed to his offer. Of course, her forced arrangement likely came with all sorts of attendant commitments that made the entire proposition untenable—even if there was honest affection, or true love between them. Whereas his arrangement with her would be cut and dried, business only. They didn’t even have to like each other.
“I’ve faith ye’ll figure it all out,” he told her. “Time has a way of providing perspective.”
She nodded in agreement, as a weary sigh escaped her lips. She’d either worn off, or more likely chewed off, most of her lipstick. While the red had been an alluring slash when playing peekaboo behind layers of netting, he thought she’d be even more beautiful without any of that artifice. In fact, it was tempting to take his kerchief and blot off the rest, and the smudge of mascara beneath those beautiful blue eyes as well.
Causing much greater disappointment than was proportionate to their short acquaintance, she slid her hand from his and scooted a little more toward her end of the seat. “I appreciate your confidence in me. It’s nice to hear it from someone.”
“Even if that someone is a complete stranger,” he said, dryly.
“I wouldn’t say a complete stranger. Not at this point.”
“Aye. It was, admittedly, one of the more interesting ways I’ve ever made someone’s acquaintance.”
She smiled a little at that. “Are you referring to finding the bride swearing a blue streak in the garden? Or carrying her out of the church where she was to be married, less than an hour after meeting her?”
“I would have to say the tale should be recounted in its entirety, to do it full justice.” He grinned, then, and a little more of the anxiety and tension ebbed away. Only to be replaced with an entirely different kind, when she grinned back.
“So,” she asked, “do you have a pub back on your island, where the locals down pints of Guinness while regaling each other with such tales or is that just a cliche?”
“No’ a cliche, I’m afraid. Have no worries, I wouldnae sully your good name by retelling the tale and castin’ you in a bad light in any way.”
“How many people are on your island?”
“Three hundred and sixty-seven. Sixty-six at the moment,” he said, gesturing to himself.
Her smile turned wry. “Then you won’t have to tell the tale. It will get around all on its own. Or perhaps you should tell the tale yourself. At least give it a chance to be properly told once.” She shook her head. “Three hundred and sixty-seven. We have over thirty thousand, just in my hometown of Annapolis.”
“Aye, a thriving metropolis we are no’. It’s certainly a different way of life, but it’s peaceful and the men and women there have the best hearts you will ever encounter. You’ll have time to regroup, and think.”
“You are the leader of their clan, hauling me back from America as your bride and wife. Do you really think they won’t be just a wee bit curious about me?” She said it good-naturedly, as if it were still rather surreal to her.
He supposed it had to be, at this point. “Aye, they’ll be that and more. But they’ll be welcomin’ ye and lookin’ to make ye as comfortable as can be.”
“You make it sound like a sort of Brigadoon.”
“Don’t worry, Katie. I’ve a wee bit of pull around the place. I’ll make sure yer comforts are seen to. I promise ye that.”
She shook her head. “I appreciate that, I truly do. But I think the key for me now is to handle things on my own. I’ve allowed others to steer the course for far too long. Forever, actually. I need to captain my own ship.” She laughed a little at that, and the sound was a mixture of both amusement and sadness. “If anyone should know how to do that, a McAuley should, right?”
Roan had done a little digging on Katie before Graham caught the ferry off the island. Her family and their business had always been based in the historic town of Annapolis, and centered around ship design and building. Originally, sailing vessels and ships of commerce. These days their inventory leant itself more toward sleek, sailing boats and very large yachts. The privately owned company was partnered with another equally old Maryland family, the Sheffields, which Graham now knew was Katie’s fiancé’s family. Ex-fiancé.
That was all Roan had a chance to learn before Graham left Kinloch. It was an imposing enough dossier, so he’d purposely kept himself from reading anything else Ro
an had sent during his transatlantic journey. He’d wanted to meet Katie first, then tackle the learning curve. He wished he’d learned as much as possible, earlier.
He felt the weight of his cell phone, currently in the sporran strapped across his chest, but didn’t dig it out to look through those messages. Beating all the odds, he’d succeeded in his mission. Thus far, anyway. Katie was with him, and they were heading home. That was a better start than he’d realistically allowed himself to hope for. Getting back to Kinloch was going to take time, so there would be plenty of opportunity to learn more from Katie directly.
“Your family builds boats, is that right? Yachts and the like?”
She looked surprised for a moment, then her expression turned downright wary. “Right. With all the rest…I forgot. I, of all people, should know better.” She shook her head, and her slight laugh was self-deprecating at best. “Wow, I’m just making one good decision after another.” She looked to him. “After all, you were hunting me when you arrived, uninvited, to my wedding. Just how much do you know about me? My family? How did you find me? And how, exactly, do you know I’m related to the McAuley’s of Kinloch? I can’t believe I’m just now asking you this.”
Graham immediately lifted his hand in a sign of peace. “Please, ye’ve nothing to worry about on that score. I’m no’ a stalker. It wasn’t you specifically we were searching for when we found ye. You were just the—”
“First one to pop up?” she finished, then shook her head and rolled her eyes briefly upward. “Of all the gin joints in all the world,” she murmured. “Well, I don’t suppose I can be too offended by that, given that it worked out well for me, at least in the immediate short term. But, let me ask you, would it have mattered who your friend had tracked down? You know, age, location, family situation, children, appearance? Or was the only prerequisite that she be single?”
“I’m no’ marryin’ for love here,” he stated, partly to ease her mind, and partly because hearing it stated so baldly didn’t make him feel the least bit better about the situation. “I never intended to put it forth as anything but a business arrangement. So…no. In that regard, it wouldn’t have mattered, at least no’ enough to keep me from making contact. Beyond that, I would have made a decision—”
“On a case by case basis?” She laughed shortly, but there was no humor in it. “I’m sorry. I’m the last one who should be giving you a hard time about the situation you’ve found yourself in. But, surely you knew this was coming.”
“I did, aye. But I suppose I wasnae actually thinking I’d have to do anything about it.”
“You mean you thought your—the people on your island—would have let it slide?”
“Other issues are taking precedence at the moment. I felt like our energies and concerns would be focused there, and on my work in that regard. So…no, I honestly didn’t think, when it came down to it, that they’d mind if I took my time and married because I wanted to.”
“So why did they—oh, wait, I remember now. You mentioned that there’s someone else, trying to beat you to the altar.”
He was feeling exponentially worse about the entire scheme than he had at any previous moment—which was saying a great deal. But just the mention of Iain shifted things back toward the focus they needed to be in. “Aye. Iain McAuley. I’ve no idea his agenda. He’s no’ from the island, but a distant relation of my departed grandmother. He was only discovered after my grandfather’s death. And, rightly, at least as the law is written, he’s given the chance, too.”
“Okay,” she said. A “for now” clearly followed that, but remained unspoken. “So, how do you know I’m related to your McAuleys?”
“My friend, Roan, takes care of all the tourism and marketing of our island trade. His research skills are legion. He was trying to track down any McAuley relation to those on our island, and though I don’t know exactly how he came to discover you, he does have the lineage all mapped out. Your family, from what I understand, has been well documented on your side of the pond, which made it much easier for him to chart. I’ll show you when we get there. You might find it interesting, learning a bit more of your family tree on our side. Has your family ever discussed your Scots heritage?”
“Often,” she said, not entirely fondly, “and generally only as it pertains to increasing their bottom line and making them more marketable. I’m sure your friend is amazing at his job, but you haven’t seen marketing until you’ve witnessed the McAuley-Sheffield branding machine in action. Beyond what they regale the public with, however, I don’t know much. You’re right, it is literally centuries back before a member of my direct family actually lived in Scotland. So it wasn’t an immediate feeling to me, as it might have been if we just came over to America a generation or so ago.”
“We use our own lore as part of our industry as well, but our history is our industry. One wouldn’t thrive or continue without the other. Still, I can understand that it feels less than special, or personal, when you’re only reading about your own history on the back of a brochure, without the added benefit of hearing those same stories, with all their affectionate embellishments, handed down from storyteller, to storyteller, generation to generation.”
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 coul
dn’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.”
Some Like It Scot Page 7
