Some Like It Scot

by Donna Kauffman

  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 can
did 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.

  He wondered if she knew, given how long it had taken her to speak up for herself, and her childhood mate, how strong she truly was. But he’d heard it, in her tone. Seen it, in her eyes, the set of her jaw. She might have taken awhile to leave the cocoon, but he was witnessing the birth of the butterfly, right in front of his eyes.

  How on earth was he going to keep her from wanting to fly away? Could his heart and moral conscience stop her from seeking her freedom, if she did?

  Chapter 5

  “We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?” Katie said, meaning to sound wry, but sounding rather wistful, instead.

  Her gaze shifted to their joined hands, but she didn’t pull hers away, though she knew it was well past time to start squaring her shoulders, and distancing herself from him, physically and emotionally, in preparation for what came next. But now that they’d talked, that he’d shared some of himself, of what was going on with him and what he faced when he returned, it was harder to separate and compartmentalize her emotions like she knew she had to. Perhaps, like her, he was finding the contact between them grounding in some way. Telling herself that she was only keeping her hand in his in order to soothe him was a lie even she couldn’t make herself believe.

  “It took a lot of courage to do what you did today,” he said, sounding both admiring and perhaps a bit wistful himself.

  Yep. It wasn’t going to be easy, walking away from him. He was compelling to her on many levels, their lives intertwining as they were, in ways both interesting and a bit fantastical.

  “After watching you in the church,” she said, “I don’t think it’s a lack of courage that’s keeping you from telling your people to take their ancient marriage law and shove it.”

  He chuckled, and she liked the natural, vibrating warmth of it. His deep voice reflected his broad, sturdy build, his wide, strong hands. And legs that were hewn like tree trunks, she noted. How was it she hadn’t noticed all that leg earlier? Well, she had, perhaps, been a wee bit distracted by other things. But now that she was noticing…damn.

  She tried to casually shift her gaze away and up, toward the rear window, somewhere, anywhere, but directly at him. She had no business noticing, much less feeling that ping of attraction, no matter that even his knees were pretty damn sexy. How was that possible?

  She sighed.

  “We’ll figure it out,” he said, mistaking the sigh for something else.

  She wasn’t mistaking it, though. That sigh was coming from a deep, deep well. A well of unfulfilled…things—lots of things. Lust, for one. Lust, unsated needs, and every delicious thing that went with that combination.

  Needs she was not going to be fulfilling with Graham MacLeod. On his island. Or in the backseat of the limo. There would be no slaking of needs, no pursuing lusty thoughts. It was the time for taking action to get her life in gear. Not the time to see if she could get a little action with her very own Scottish hunk.

  Though, now that she’d thought about it, she had to admit, it was damn tempting. In fact, her palms were sweating. Just a little.

  No. No, no, no. They’d had an interesting conversation, and she’d been quietly intrigued, and surprisingly comforted by him. But that couldn’t deter her from what she knew she had to do—and what she knew she couldn’t do. And that was go to Scotland. Or allow him to believe she was going to be the one to solve his problems. He still had time. Not much, but some. She had to tell him immediately, so he could move on. Maybe his friend—Roan was it?—maybe he’d found other candidates. Graham could go track them down. What were the chances that at least one of them would be more than happy to run off to some small island off the coast of Scotland with a guy that did the kind of things for a kilt that shouldn’t be legal?

  So…why can’t I be that person? What, really, was stopping her? It wasn’t like she had a finite amount of time to kick-start her new life. Not like the deadline he was operating under. Would it be so wrong to just…go for it?

  No. Stay focused.

  She really couldn’t allow her little voice to subvert her anymore. She’d been subversive enough for one day, following the urgings of that very same little voice. Since she’d given it reign, it seemed it was turning into a much bigger voice. Quite the nag, in fact. A big, fat nagging voice that was prodding her to consider—truly consider—that maybe she should run off with Graham. After all, other than using one half of her honeymoon tickets, what options did she have right then in the immediate future? Even that solo honeymoon would come to an end.

  Her time on, what had he said it was called? Kinloch? That was an open-ended invite. Definitely a place no one would ever know to look for her.

  “Katie?”

  She looked from their joined hands, to his face. He really had such a good face, didn’t he? It was rugged, chiseled even, with the tiniest hint of a cleft in his chin. Or was that a scar? Either way, it was sexy as hell. Dangerous, even, a little bit. There was nothing remotely dangerous about Blaine. Graham, on the other hand, made her body vibrate a little when he smiled. Or laughed. Or…breathed.

  The thing that really got her? Not the sexy cleft, or the sexier knees. It was his eyes. He had such—contemplative, yes that was exactly it—contemplative eyes. They weren’t exactly a color. Gray, kind of, except when he was really looking at her and all intense, then they were almost…lavender. That wasn’t even an eye color, was it? But with that dark, wild hair of his, and dark slashy eyebrows, they were almost…spooky. Ish. Like he could look at her and see into her…and beyond her…all at the same time. He was part warrior, in build, and part poet, in expression and thought.

  She shook her head, and realized she was staring at him, at his eyes, and—

  “I willnae allow anything to happen to ye, Katie,” he said. “Trust that, if naught else.”

  That voice, deep and solid, but somehow gentle and confident all at the same time. And that accent. Seriously with that—swoonable.

  “I-I can take care of me,” she said, hearing the unsteadiness in her voice, but unable to do anything about it. Likely he’d just blame it on her unstable emotional state. Her perfectly understandable unstable emotional state. He didn’t have to know he was the cause—mostly—not the fact that she’d just run out on her family, and Blaine, the best friend she’d ever had. Any second, despite being a sane, rational, overeducated adult, she was pretty sure the earth was going to swallow her whole, or the sky was going to shoot down a lightning bolt to strike her dead. Surely, at the very least, something earth shattering, life rendering, was going to happen.

  It certainly had always felt that way before, whenever she’d even contemplated letting the little voice take over.

  But, instead, she was sitting in the limo. With Graham. And there was a whole new life—well, okay, not a life, or a future even—but certainly a new adventure. And time. Precious time. To figure out what her future wa
s going to be. She’d help Graham achieve his goals. And she’d figure out what her new goals were going to be.

  Win-win, really.

  “I know ye can take care of yourself. I just witnessed as much,” he said. “I’m only sayin’, we’re not going forward independent of one another. The legal union may be in name only, but there are all kinds of bonds, Katie. So I’m givin’ you mine, in my word.”

  “I—” She didn’t know what to say. Neither did her little voice, apparently. Silence from both sides. “There’s a lot still, that we need to—”

  “Discuss, I know. I’m simply—thank you for being willing to have that discussion. When we get to Kinloch, you’ll see. And you’ll know. And then you can decide. I realize the timing of this, given your own situation…” He broke off, and sighed, and she could see that he felt truly torn in what he was asking of her. “I won’t abuse your goodwill, and your generosity. That much I can also promise.”

  Her heart was pounding, as she stared into his eyes. How had this day, a day of both dread and exhilaration, led her to this moment, with a complete stranger? A stranger who made her feel safe, and secure. Her mad Scot. How was it even possible? How was it even sane?

  She’d have to figure out how to shield herself from his influence. She needed to stand on her own feet, form her own educated opinions, and make her own choices. She’d broken free. She had to move forward. Not sideways. And certainly backwards.

  But, right that very second, as long as she was aware of all that…would it really cause any long-term harm if one of her first independent decisions was to indulge in a few moments of this? His strong, broad hand covering hers. Those kind, steady eyes shoring up her own defenses. The confidence in that chin, the strength in those broad shoulders.

  Those oh-so-incredibly well built, muscular legs.

  Who knew a skirt on a guy could be so damn hot?

  “Thank you,” she replied, hearing the hint of huskiness threading through her voice. Sheesh. If he had any clue the thoughts that were running through her mind, he’d begin to wonder if maybe he was the one making the giant mistake. He was consoling the poor, crazy, runaway bride and she was wondering—again—what he was wearing under that kilt.