Some Like It Scot

by Donna Kauffman

  Mortified, she scrubbed away the trickle of tears, hoping beyond hope that he’d assume it was merely the wind stinging her eyes. How pathetic could she be? She hadn’t thought she could be any more humbled than she’d felt before entering the church the first time…what felt like eons ago. She’d felt silly, and stupid and weak for not standing up to her family, or to Blaine. For not demanding the farce be brought to an end long before she committed the even more egregious sin of marrying a man she loved like a brother, in the presence of God and everyone else she loved and cared about.

  She remembered wondering what in the hell she’d been thinking, to believe what she was about to do was actually okay. That she thought she’d been doing it for her family, or for Blaine, or for the greater good of McAuley-Sheffield was hardly a point in her favor. She thought of the pain and frustration that had coursed through her, literally shaking her, as she’d also been forced to confront the ugly truth that her very own parents didn’t care she was about to commit what amounted to life perjury—as long as it got them the desired outcome. So why in God’s name was she willing to do something so sacrificial for them?

  She hadn’t believed, hadn’t been truly aware until that moment of understanding, some part of her—the part that was still their child—had hoped, prayed, when push came to shove, they’d step forward and tell her it was okay. They loved her and just wanted her to be happy. In that moment, she’d reckoned with the truth. They were never going to do that.

  That soul-snatching epiphany is what had sent her into the prayer garden in a fit of self-directed fury. What an idiot she was. What a pathetic, sorry, blind idiot. Of all the people on the planet, she was the last one who should have believed her parents could ever be the loving, supportive image of parenthood they projected to the world. She was the one who knew, without a doubt, it wasn’t true. Yet somewhere in her heart she’d wanted to buy what they were selling…just like everybody else.

  Enter Graham MacLeod, with his ridiculously insane offer, his solid, sturdy presence, his unbelievable hotness in a kilt, all bundled up with that gentle warrior demeanor.

  That same gentle warrior was brushing her hair from her face…but not releasing her when she tried to tug free of his arms.

  “Ye dinnae have to flee. I promise I’ll keep myself under better control. I—” He broke off, then looked down. “I’m definitely no’ in the habit of forcing my attentions on anyone, but with you…” He looked to her again, and her heart squeezed at the true remorse and confusion she saw there. “I don’t know what comes over me with you. But it’s no’ my intention to scare you with inappropriate—”

  She impulsively grabbed his face and tugged his mouth to hers. He stiffened, but only for a moment. Then they were both kissing like it was the last feast they’d ever have. She broke the kiss off just as it was about to rocket beyond their control. Again. She felt a little lightheaded, and a lot breathless. “It wasn’t inappropriate, Graham. I was most definitely not shedding tears because I was in fear of…anything. Except maybe myself.” He started to speak, but she lifted her finger to his mouth…and felt that wham pow punch all over again.

  His pupils had shot wide as well, giving her another glimpse of the desire barely restrained beneath the surface veneer of politeness. When she tried to snatch her hand away, he deftly captured it in his own, and held it between them, their gazes locked and…hungry.

  “I’m expecting nothing, Katie,” he said, and she could feel the words all but vibrate against her skin. “Yet I’m discovering I want…everything.” He brought her fingertips to his lips, and kissed them, one by one, while keeping his gaze fixed intently on hers. “I know it’s no’ sensible, and that we’ve enough to handle in each of our lives, without further…complications.” He nibbled on one fingertip and she thought she might expire right there from abject desire. “Yet, I cannae seem to bring it to any kind of order. In my head. Or…anywhere else.”

  “I-I know,” she managed, her throat tight, every part of her throbbing with more bound up need than she thought it possible for one body to contain. “I-I’ve allowed my life to go so far afield, I no longer even know who I am, or what I really want. So, I know. I know it’s not fair to start anything, or lead you to believe…anything. And yet…” She curled the fingers he held until she held his hand, then pulled it to her own lips, and softly placed a kiss on the back of it, all the while watching his eyes as they remained so focused on her own. “So, I do know, Graham. I just don’t know what to do about it.”

  “And the tears?” he asked, lowering their joined hands between them, but trapping them against his chest as he tugged her closer.

  “Utter confusion, and wishing I knew my own self better. Wishing that I hadn’t ended up in a place where I don’t know how to respond to what should be the most natural and wonderful form of human connection between two people who are attracted to each other.” She tried to laugh, but it didn’t quite come out that way. “I’m messed up, Graham. You don’t need that. Or me.” She broke their gaze then, and glanced away, anywhere, it didn’t matter since she wasn’t seeing anything outwardly at the moment. “I’m not usually pathetic. At least I never felt that way about myself. I knew my responsibilities and I accepted them. I was firm and decisive about how I dealt with…everything. Not remotely pathetic, but proactively dealing with what life had handed me in a specific, well thought-out manner. But I realize now…I’ve been pathetic the whole time.” She laughed then, and it sounded sorry and sad, even to her own ears. Her throat tightened again, and she honestly didn’t think she could bear being humbled any further, though perhaps there was no lower place to go.

  “Katie.”

  He nudged her chin up until she looked at him. Her eyes were glassy and there didn’t seem to be a damn thing she could do about it.

  “You are decisive and strong. No’ many could put up with the pressures and expectations you have, and handle them so well and so thoroughly. It’s no’ pathetic to come to realize that you’ve been looking at things in a way that might have been the best for others, but perhaps not what’s best for you. You’ve been putting everyone else first. And you’ve finally come to know that, now, it’s time to put yourself first. From the moment you reached that bit of knowledge, you acted on it. Firmly decisive—”

  “If not particularly well thought-out,” she finished, with a watery laugh.

  He cupped her face again, smiling even as the intensity in his voice remained. “What matters is you did it.”

  His absolute belief in what he was saying was a powerful force, one that, standing in his arms, his gaze so focused on her own, the steady thrum of his heartbeat vibrating through her, was impossible to defend against. She found she didn’t want to. She wanted to believe he was right. With everything she had, she wanted to believe it would all work out, that she hadn’t jumped from frying pan to fire. Both in her own life, as it had been up to her church exodus, and standing, on a ferry boat bound for a remote Scottish island. But it was still all too surreal. She’d spent a lifetime wanting to believe things that weren’t true. Wanting to believe that everything would somehow magically work out in the end.

  And look where that had gotten her.

  She ducked her chin away so he was no longer touching her face…but didn’t extricate herself from his arms. She knew she had to…and she was working on it. “You’re kind and generous, Graham. But you don’t really know me. I may look like I’m all those things, but trust me. On the inside, I’m a disaster.”

  “Hardly that,” he said, then cocked his head a bit, as if to look more deeply into her soul. She wasn’t entirely sure he couldn’t. “I know what I see, Katie. Maybe it’s a bit of myself I recognize in you. I have something of a personal understanding of the matter.”

  “Meaning?”

  “You’re no’ the only one who has woken up to discover that life was suddenly not going as it should, if there is ever to be real personal fulfillment involved.”

  “Have you
ever wished you weren’t in charge? That the burden of taking care of an island full of people had fallen to anyone else but you?”

  “Fatigued by it? Aye. But truly wishing the burden away? No. I’ve had a lifetime to think on it, and to prepare. It’s just that…my way of leading, of helping, has been to focus on the betterment of us all by making sure we remain economically sound, and therefore a viable, self-sustaining population. Ualraig, my grandfather…was wonderful in dealing directly with the people, handling the more political and personal conflicts that arise. It’s during those times I feel inadequate and less than capable of the job that’s been laid at my feet. I know how to take care of us as a whole, but I often worry I’m going to let them down in the other ways that matter.”

  “Do they make you feel this way?”

  “No,” he said, then paused, as if to truly contemplate that. “No, they don’t.”

  “Well then?”

  He shook his head, and his lips curved into a smile that fully reached his eyes as he continued to regard her. “Well then, indeed.”

  They smiled at each other for a few long moments, and she felt for the first time, a true bond had been forged between them. One that wasn’t physical or hormonal. Or built on surface similarities. Or tied to the situation currently binding them together.

  She realized, all the while they’d been deep in each other’s personal space—kissed, even—she hadn’t once had one of those vivid, erotically charged visions that had leapt so abruptly and intently into her mind’s eye, like before whenever she’d had close contact with him. So maybe it really had been some sort of stress-induced hysteria.

  Except maybe not—since he was seeing the same things she was.

  She couldn’t think about that. Or…any of it. “How much longer,” she asked, remembering there was still so much more left to that day. She couldn’t fathom it. She felt…tapped out. In every way.

  “Longer?” he asked, looking confused. “Oh, until Castlebay.” He looked across the rail at the horizon that was slowly coming closer and closer. “Another hour.” He looked back to her then and his hold on her tightened briefly at what he saw on her face. “We’ll stay in Castlebay tonight.” When her eyes widened, he hurried to add, “In our own proper rooms. That’s no’ what I was aiming for. It’s been a long two days. We should take a night, eat, sleep, regroup. It’s no’ going to matter if we get to Kinloch tonight or tomorrow. They can wait a wee bit longer, and we can get some much-needed rest.”

  She could have cried all over again, but it would have been tears of gratitude. “That sounds truly wonderful. Thank you. I’ll pay you back, for—”

  “Now yer just insulting me,” he said, but kindly enough. “I’ve said my piece about this and I won’t discuss it further. Ye ken?”

  “I ken,” she said, smiling, and feeling better for it. “I just—”

  “You need to relax and think your own thoughts for the remainder of the night. Dinnae worry so much about what others are thinking, or might think. You’re here for you, Katie. Keep yourself in the lead. Even with me. Maybe especially with me.”

  She tilted her head and studied him. “Is this some kind of reverse psychology?” she said, her tone wry.

  He smiled. “I wouldn’t begin to know how to apply it, so no. I’m wanting you to do what’s best for you. I know what I want, and what I need, but that’s up to me to think on, aye? I’m no’ your responsibility. I can take care of me, just as you can take care of you.”

  “Okay then,” she said, knowing she didn’t need to hear that to know it was true…but it felt good to hear it nonetheless. Especially from him. She moved out of his arms and he didn’t stop her. Step one, she thought, in regaining her perspective, and possibly whatever hope she had of regaining herself.

  She was going to have a full night’s reprieve to regroup, and that should be uppermost in her mind. A hot meal, a hotter shower, and a real bed sounded like nirvana to her. But those were still at least an hour or more away. “I think I’m going to take a walk around the decks. Breathe the air and enjoy the night that never gets dark.” She smiled a little. “Think my own thoughts.” And be alone long enough to work that kiss out of my system before we walk into a hotel together, she added silently.

  If he was surprised or offended in any way at her sudden defection, he certainly didn’t show it. Maybe he was relieved to get his own space for a time, too. It wouldn’t be surprising. She was used to spending her days surrounded by people, and noise, and endless demands on her time and attention. Graham spent his time on a tiny island, stuck out at sea, overseeing fields of…whatever it was he said his baskets were made out of. Baskets. She was still trying to wrap her head around that one. Beside the point, he was used to the solitude. She wondered what he’d thought about how the past couple days had gone and she imagined he was every bit as done in as she was, only for different reasons.

  “Probably no’ a bad idea,” he said, proving her right, if not, perversely, making her happy about it.

  It was precisely why she needed some alone time—to regain some sense of perspective.

  “I’ll be calling home while you’re having your stroll. Get a report on how things are progressing.”

  “You’re telling them you’re bringing me with you, right? I mean, we’re not making this some kind of big surprise.”

  “No, nothing like that. And aye, I’ll be telling them.”

  She didn’t want to bring up the specifics again. As she mulled it over, she found she wasn’t quite as concerned about who knew what regarding where he’d found her…and what she’d been about to do when he had, which must mean she was acclimating to her new circumstances. Or too numb to care. Either way, it felt better than the anxiety that had been plaguing her earlier.

  Some apprehension lingered in her expression, because he went on to say, “When I left, only my two closest friends knew the circumstances under which we’d be meeting each other. I don’t know who has common knowledge regarding that.”

  “Meaning you don’t know if your friends told everyone about it?”

  “No, they wouldn’t. But it’s a small island and news has a way of getting about. They wouldn’t patronize or be malicious. But that doesna mean the knowledge hasn’t spread anyway.”

  “Did they—meaning everyone—know what the purpose of your trip was? In general, I mean, if not specifically about me?”

  “If you mean did they think I’d suddenly gone on holiday, no. They knew what my mission was. No’ about you specifically, though.”

  “Do you do that? Ever, I mean. Leave the island on holiday?”

  He shook his head. “No’ much point in it.”

  “You don’t believe in rest and relaxation breaks? Is it so demanding, being responsible for these people, they can’t do without you for a short time?”

  “No, it’s no’ that at all. I simply don’t see the need to caravan about when there’s work to be done.”

  “There’s always work to be done. That doesn’t mean you can’t occasionally wave and say you’re taking a little break. In fact, I’d bet it might even improve things, allow you to gain a fresh perspective on whatever the problem of the day is. Or month. Or year,” she added, noticing his expression darken a bit.

  “How often was it that you put into practice the advice you’re giving in your tidy little speech?”

  She opened her mouth, all ready to shoot him down, then stopped, and closed it again.

  His knowing smile would have been irritating if it hadn’t been so charmingly adorable.

  “Okay, okay, touché,” she said, before taking the mature path and sticking her tongue out at him. “But, unlike you, I actually wanted a break, wanted to take time off to explore and get away from…things.”

  “Understandable, given what I know of your situation. For me…if it took me somewhere to learn more about what it is I’m trying to accomplish, then the travel and time away would be well worth it.”

  “But you don’t feel
the need to just get away from it all? Even briefly? To some degree, you have to be in much the same situation, in terms of the constant inescapable demands of your position.”

  “It’s no’ that onerous a task, really. I know what I said earlier, about mediating issues, but we’re a small population and generally just going about our business. Perhaps that’s where we truly differ.”

  “I know we look differently at dealing with what’s been expected of us, but—”

  “I’m no’ referring to that. What I meant was, it’s more cultural. You live in a very busy, very high-volume world. Just driving to Annapolis from the airport was like being dropped on another planet. Even when I went to university on the mainland here, there was never that sense of absolute, live or die urgency to get anywhere to do anything. I’ve never been in such a palpably anxious environment. We’re far more relaxed in going about our daily lives. Nothing is so urgent that we feel the need to be so tightly wrapped or tense about getting to the next thing. So perhaps I have less to want to get away from,” he explained. “By and large, we’re a happy people, but always aware that life is bigger than the task at hand. We appreciate what we have, what we’ve accomplished, and take pride in bettering our situations, but no’ to the degree that we let it devalue the quality of the lives we’re leading.”

  She’d like to take offense of his portrait of American life, especially her specific slice of it. She’d traveled enough to know, comparatively speaking, Annapolis had a far more relaxed and bohemian vibe about it than many other mid-Atlantic cities of the same or greater size. Mostly due to it being both a port and a sea town, complete with all the recreational sports that went with it. Overall, she suspected he was absolutely right. It was a little stultifying to think she was part of that cultural environment…but also intriguing to know she was about to get a chance to see what it was like to live in his.

  “We take great pleasure in the small things, like time spent with friends, tipping back an ale or two, playing some music, dancing, singing and the like. As a rule, we dinnae work ourselves to exhaustion, nor do we feel compelled to do so time and again, without taking some respite.”