Katie stared, her gaze locked on the wild-eyed man who was not proclaiming his wish to marry her as part of some family obligation, but staking his outright ownership of her. She should have laughed. Hysterically. Because her life was nothing if not ridiculous already, so why not have a mad Scot turn her A-list attended, excruciatingly planned-to-perfection, media-and-marketing-coup-of-the-century sham wedding into utter chaos? It was certainly the high point for her.
“Katie?”
Blaine gripped her arms, jerking her gaze from the kilted man who, not ten minutes earlier had unknowingly offered up a bizarre, yet tantalizing option to the immediate future she’d thought her only choice. Blaine held her gaze, but not her attention. Her thoughts were a complete scramble. Her stomach was a clutched knot, and her heart threatened to beat straight through the hand-beaded satin and Irish lace presently binding her chest and waist so tightly she’d been short of breath since being cinched into it.
She was very much afraid she might throw up. In fact, she wanted to throw up. Surely that would make her feel better. Or pass out. Yes. Passing out, quite dramatically, in front of the entire church assembly, would be perfect. Not to mention a clever way of getting out of dealing with any of it. At least right that very second, anyway.
Except hadn’t she spent the past six months getting out of dealing with any of it? Hell, if she were honest—and why not, better late than never—her whole life had been an exercise in avoiding confrontation and doing whatever it took to keep the people in her life happy. And by people, she meant family. Hers, and Blaine’s.
“Katie.” Blaine shook her, albeit lightly. He would never harm her. Never. Poor, sweet, adorable, and adoring Blaine.
She forced herself to look at him directly, to focus. And struggled to find the words she knew—knew—she had to say. And had said, so many times, inside her own head, too afraid of subverting her entire life to contemplate saying them out loud. But being brave on the inside didn’t count.
Hence her standing there, inside the chapel her family and Blaine’s had attended since its earliest inception several hundred years earlier, in a wedding dress she hadn’t picked out, carrying flowers she didn’t know the names of, about to marry a man she adored above all others and had loved her entire life…like a brother. Not a husband.
“I’m so sorry, Blaine. I can’t marry you.” She held her breath, her pulse drumming so loudly she couldn’t tell if she’d really said that out loud, or just imagined she had. Again.
He frowned, and looked confused, which meant she’d finally gone and done it. Oh my God. She tensed—froze really—but there was no going back. No taking it back. Even if she wanted to—which, of course, she didn’t. She just had to figure out how to survive the next five seconds without having a heart attack or stroking out.
She kept her gaze pinned on Blaine and only Blaine, carefully keeping even so much as a glimpse of anyone else—especially the anyone elses presently crowding the front pews of the church—out of her range of vision. Just Blaine. Other than her grandfather, he’d been the only safe haven she’d ever had, the one port in the storm that was a constant in both their lives. The one person she could always trust, who would always be steady. Rock steady. Only she’d just cast herself off that steady rock, hadn’t she? And her grandfather was gone. She was out to sea, with no port…and a very big storm brewing that was only moments from crashing over her.
“I’m am sorry,” she whispered, never meaning the words more. “I can’t. We can’t. You know that, right?”
“I don’t know anything of the sort. Katie, what’s going on? Who is that guy?”
She had no answer for that, of course. Other than his name, she had no idea who he was. A lunatic, clearly.
And a port. If she dared.
But didn’t leaping from steady rock to utter madness make her the lunatic? Clearly. Though who could blame her? Other than every member of her family, and Blaine’s. Yet, given what she’d had to contend with, was it any surprise, she was having some kind of psychotic breakdown? It wasn’t that farfetched—was it?—she’d finally hit her breaking point on her wedding day, standing in front of the pastor, God, and every single important person in her life, his life…and most importantly, because it was always most important, her parents’ lives? Surely that was the case. What else could explain the fact that she was teetering on the brink of ruining the rest of her life…and possibly that of the only man she’d ever really loved.
“You know I adore you, Blaine. But we—I—can’t do this.”
“We don’t have a choice,” he whispered furiously and his grip grew surprisingly firm.
“Have you been working out?” she asked, shocked by his display of strength. “Did you finally call that personal trainer I told you about? Because, that’s a pretty impressive—”
“Katie,” he said, shaking her. “What in the hell has gotten into you?”
She was losing it. Rapidly. Stop blabbering. Focus.
“You know we shouldn’t marry each other. I mean, we’re supposed to, destined to since birth, blah blah blah. But we really can’t. It’s too much. Too far.”
“We’ve talked about that,” he ground out. “Endlessly. And we agreed—”
“You agreed,” she corrected. “And I…was too afraid to go against you. Or, more to the point, them.” She twitched her veiled head in the direction of the front pew. She could hear their guests getting restless, the murmuring growing. Time was running out. “I just want to be happy. You should want to be happy.”
“Katie, we’ll make it work. We always do. No one else could possibly understand what it’s like for me—for us. You’re the only one I can trust. Could ever trust.”
She’d never seen him look so intense, so…well, virile. It was kind of hot, actually. Only she knew better than to let that affect her. Way better. “I’m not the only one,” she said, hoping her gaze was as intense, as pointed. “And you know that. It’s time everyone else did, too. There is another way. For you.”
His eyes went from furious to terror-filled. “Don’t,” he said, more order than plea. “You wouldn’t.”
“Of course I wouldn’t. But you should. You have to. So you can start living your life. I want to start living mine.”
His expression turned heartbreakingly bleak when he seemed to realize she wasn’t kidding. “Don’t do this,” he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll make it work, Katie. We will. I’ll make your happiness my main priority.”
“That’s just it, Blaine. I want you to make your happiness your main priority. And that means not marrying me. If you really love me, really want me to be happy, then do this. For yourself. For me. Whatever it takes. This is ridiculous. You know that, right? They can have everything else they want. But they can’t have this. It’s too much. The price is too big. For both of us.”
“But…there’s a way. I know there is,” he said, clearly panicked. “Katie, come on, it’s too late now. We’re here. It’s all set. We have to follow through, then we can…figure things out.”
“That’s just it, it’s not too late. And now is the only time we can fix this. I have to take a stand. I know I should have a long time ago. I’ll regret forever doing this to you here, now, you know that, right? I didn’t plan this. Any of this.” Truer words had never been spoken. She looked past Blaine to his best man, Tag, who had gone completely pale, then back to the man who had been her best friend since birth. “We’re allowed to be happy, Blaine. I don’t know what—or who—will make me happy. But you do.” She looked pointedly at the man standing behind him, who, by all rights, should be standing where she stood. “I want the chance to find out. Right now is your chance—which means this is our chance. Possibly our only chance.”
“Katie, please,” he begged, breaking her heart. “Don’t. Don’t ruin this. Don’t ruin me. If you’ve ever loved me”—he framed her face with his hands—you can’t do this,” he said, his tone somehow fierce and shattered at the same time
. “I won’t allow it.”
To his shock, and certainly to hers, she smiled. It was as if a sudden, otherworldly calm descended over her. Her heart slowed, her mind cleared—like she was having an out of body experience and was floating overhead with the angels and cherubs, looking down on the travesty that her wedding day had become. Had always been, actually. “You don’t get to allow or disallow. No one does. Just me. If you do trust me, then believe me when I say I’m doing us both a favor.”
She turned then and faced their gathered families and invited guests…along with a certain uninvited one. She purposely looked beyond the front pews, where her parents, and Blaine’s, were making noises that indicated her moment to finally stand up for herself was going to be very short-lived if she didn’t act swiftly. She honestly had no idea what they would do, as she’d never risked finding out before. There always was too much at stake. Or so it had seemed. Funny, how standing there, with her own life and her very future at stake, it felt, for the first time, like hers was the more important one.
She looked past her family, and Blaine’s, and found Graham. She spoke directly to him. “Did you mean what you said?” Her voice sounded far more steady and confidant than she felt. Her gaze remained locked on the Scot, who was easily head and shoulders bigger than pretty much everyone in the room. Her port, she thought, and felt oddly steadied by it. By him. She could certainly do worse.
He was still wielding some crumpled piece of paper, like a proclamation, in front of him. “Aye,” he stated, that deep, gravelly burr ringing clearly and quite commandingly throughout the chapel, despite the fact that the hushed silence of a moment before had already begun erupting in small, little volcanoes of chatter…with the biggest eruption surging to the surface in the front row as her parents stood and took their first steps toward her.
“Then I accept.”
Vesuvius McAuley-Sheffield blew approximately one second later as the entire chapel rose to its feet, as one, and looked ready to descend upon her. She went into survival mode, working off some instinct she’d never known she had. It was purely self-preservation, but when had she ever considered that an option?
When she finally put her own self first.
She turned to Blaine and slid the engagement ring off her finger. “You know I love you,” she said, quietly and fiercely, as she pushed it into his palm. Then she stepped past the gape-mouthed Blaine, and thrust her ridiculously over-the-top bouquet straight into Tag’s chest. She lowered her voice so only he could hear her. “You’ve officially caught the bouquet. You’d better stand by him and love him the best way you know how. Or I’m going to come back and personally kick your ass.”
She turned back to Blaine, grabbed his face in her palms and kissed him soundly on the mouth. “I love you, Sheffie. More than life.”
“Mac,” he choked out, using his own childhood endearment for her, tears swimming in his beautiful brown eyes. “Don’t leave me.”
She held his cheeks more tightly. “You don’t need me. You only need you. Now go, be happy, dammit.”
Her mother rushed toward the stairs as Katie turned, a rather terrifying expression carved into her already rigid features. Her father was right behind, looking equal parts exceedingly angry and deeply disappointed. He’d had plenty of experience with both of those expressions where Katie was concerned—where all the women in his life were concerned, actually.
Well, she was about to give him one less woman to concern himself with.
She made a quick sidestep and danced around the pulpit. “Sorry, Father Flaherty, I really, truly am. Say prayers for me. I’m going to need them!”
Her Scot—at least he wasn’t anyone else’s—had worked his way quite easily through the guests thronging into the aisle and had made his way to the base of the deep blue carpeted steps leading up to the altar. She hadn’t noticed, in the prayer garden, how big he truly was. So tall. And brawny. She might have thought it a trick of the plaid that cascaded over one shoulder, only he made everyone in the growing chaos surrounding him look small and ineffectual by comparison. There had to be something to that.
“Katie,” he said, his voice rising easily above the din. He reached for her.
Without a second’s hesitation, she launched herself off the top step, knowing he would catch her. And he did.
“Oh!” she gasped, as strong arms closed instantly around her. He shifted her into his arms, dress cascading over his arm, as if they’d rehearsed it dozens of times, to get the timing so perfectly right. If it weren’t for the abject terror starting to creep in around the defiance and righteous moxie she’d been filled to overflowing with the past few minutes, she might have felt positively princess-like. “We need to get out of here,” she whispered fervently. “Fast.”
“Wait just one minute there!” Her father, sounding superior and autocratic. Like a king, ruling his subjects, expecting total obeisance—or off with their heads. He’d had lots of practice with that.
To her surprise, her rescuer actually paused. “No, no! Keep going. This is my only chance.” She looked up at the length of chiseled jaw, then he looked down, and their eyes met, close up, and just like that, the rest of the world fell away.
“You are a woman grown, aye? Of legal age to decide for yourself your course of action?”
“You don’t understand, it’s…complicated. So very, very complicated. I need you to get us out of here, before—”
“Katherine Elizabeth, what on earth do you think you’re doing? Do you realize what you’ve done? You’ve made a spectacle of yourself. And of us. That’s what you’ve done.” Her mother had somehow managed to wedge her svelte, size two frame squarely in front of her daughter’s Scot. How a woman who was easily a full foot and a half shorter—even in her one-of-a-kind, Ferragamo, hand-dyed satin pumps—than the man presently towering over her, managed to look down her perfect, aquiline nose at him, Katie would never be able to figure out. Her mother was a force of nature. Rather like a tsunami. Or a monsoon. Sweeping in, blowing down, and drowning anything that got in her path.
“Now you’ll kindly get back up on that dais, apologize—profusely—to everyone here, and proceed with this wedding. I’ll make certain none of this…incident…remains digitally viable with any of our photographers.”
She turned slightly and raised her voice. “If anyone here even thinks about using their phones, or breathes a word of this outside this chapel…well, surely that’s not something anyone has any interest in doing.” She looked back to her daughter. “We can salvage this. I can salvage this. But it will take some doing. Now, for heaven’s sake, let’s get back to business here.” She clapped her hands together, as if expecting time to spin backwards and all to be as it was five minutes prior. Katie wasn’t entirely sure her mother couldn’t do just that.
“You’ll kindly use a different tone when speaking to your daughter,” Graham quietly informed Mrs. McAuley, making the room gasp collectively. “She’s made her decision, and while I understand your disappointment, you’ve naught to do but accept it. Now, if you don’t mind. We ’ve a plane to catch.”
“A plane!” her father blasted. He was more thunderstorm than monsoon. Lots of wind and booming noises. Occasionally incinerating things with blistering bolts of lightning. “If you think you are taking her out of this chapel, much less out of this town, you are—”
“Going to be late,” Graham replied, seemingly unfazed—which was shocking all on its own, but then, he wasn’t from here. He had no idea who he was dealing with.
“Graham,” she said, keeping her voice low. “You rock in ways you don’t even know. But we might want to move it along, before—”
“How could you! How dare you humiliate my darling son!”
Mrs. Sheffield gets here, Katie finished silently, somehow managing to stifle the deep, shuddering sigh that accompanied the thought, along with the much desired eye roll. Katie was a master of the stifled eye roll. Along with the imaginary foot stomp, finger-down-the-throat ge
sture, forefinger pistol, and the ever popular middle finger salute. “Graham, really, we have to—”
“I’m gettin’ the general idea,” he said, his words quiet and meant only for her.
Something about that accent did all kinds of delicious, tingly things to her insides. Possibly enhanced by the fact that she was being held in his rather brawny arms, and could feel his heart beating just below her cheek. In fact, were he to turn, and lower his mouth just a scant few inches…she could find out what those lips of his tasted like.
Her own parted, without permission, then snapped shut again as his gaze lowered to hers. His dark pupils punched wide, swallowing up that crystalline gray, and broadcasting what looked like a very similar desire.
Oh. Oh my. Her heart fluttered, then she shut that down, too. So inappropriate, Katie! It was probably nothing more than a panic reaction to the pandemonium she was in the midst of—that she’d created. But still, no point in compounding things further.
Oh God, she thought, as her mind—and heart—raced ahead again. I’m really doing this! Reality started to crash in, along with the rest of the wedding party and most of the guest list. It was when the first flash went off that Graham finally took action.
“Pardon me, ma’am,” he said, ever so politely, as he gently but firmly bullied his way, shoulder and kilted hip first, past her gaping mother and furious father, past a mottled-faced Cricket, past the wedding photographers and videographers, who Katie prayed weren’t the ones using the flash. They’d never work in Annapolis again if that were the case, and were already going to be out a tidy sum for the event.
It should have been more difficult, but somehow Graham had them at the soaring chapel doors seemingly seconds later. It wasn’t until he pushed through them, launching them into the streaming sunlight and fresh air, that she realized she’d been holding her breath the entire time. She was gulping in air like a beached fish.
Some Like It Scot Page 5