Some Like It Scot

by Donna Kauffman

  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 decide
d 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.

  “Katie,” he said quietly and gently. Like the man she’d first met in the garden.

  She lifted her gaze to his, and couldn’t deny or pretend to ignore the intensity of her relief in seeing openness again, the…vulnerability…was the word that came to mind. No one looking at Graham MacLeod, hulking in height, square of jaw, broad of shoulder, and heavy of calf, would think he had so much as a chink in his armor. The clan armor he wore only served to strengthen that masculinity, which was interesting, given he was wearing what amounted to a skirt and sash.

  She knew he could be fierce. Well, his alter ego, but as of that morning, she knew, firsthand, he was capable of it as well. What she really knew, and understood, was that he was quiet by nature, reflective, thoughtful. He spent more time using his mind to think things through and form workable solutions to problems, than to battering-ram his way through obstacles with his oversized body.

  It was that man she’d found hard to leave. So hard, in fact, that she hadn’t.

  “What?” she responded, curling the fingers of her free hand inward to keep from reaching up to touch his face. She recalled the kiss they’d shared on the ferry from Oban. Whatever the mystical connection was, however dark and erotic and compelling, their real connection was equally so, for entirely different reasons. She felt…accepted by him. Wanted by him. Not for her last name, or her association to money or success. Not because she was the only McAuley eligible to fix his problem. With him, she could fully be herself, no other agenda, and enjoy the knowledge it was not only okay, but desirable.

  “I dinnae know what might be ahead. On Kinloch. For me, or for you. Much less as an us.”

  “I’ll stay on the ferry, take it back on the next crossing. I really don’t want to complicate—”

  He was already shaking his head. “We’re no’ meant to part, you and me. Don’t ye feel that?” He took her hand, turned it over in his so their palms met, then wove his fingers through again and pulled their joined hands up between them. “You stayed. I didn’t want ye to go. It’s as simple as that.”

  She smiled then. “Nothing between us is remotely simple.”

  His lips curved a bit, too, and it made her heart skip a beat, then another, to see the honest affection come to life in his eyes. “Aye, ’tis true enough, I suppose. But at least we’re both aware of it. The rest, the parts we can’t explain? They’re happenin’ for a reason, Katie. I cannae help but believe that to be true. It explains, at least in part, why I was so upset with your taking off.”

  “You wanted me to go,” she reminded him.

  “In my head, it made rational, logical sense. But that’s no’ the part of me that was affected by your leavin
g. No’ in that initial moment when I knew you’d gone.”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “You shouldnae have been able to.”

  She blinked at that, but knew what he meant. “I suppose not, no. We’re still strangers. More or less.”

  “Only in the measure of time could we consider ourselves that.” He lifted her hand, and pressed a kiss to the back of one knuckle, then another. His lips were warm, and so was every inch of her, as a deep well of affection spread through her. “But I think we’re timeless, Katherine Elizabeth. I don’t know that we’ve been strangers for a very, very long time.”

  She could only nod. Anywhere else, with anyone else, she’d be booking an appointment with a very expensive shrink. But, with Graham, surrounded by the sea, and the striking skyline provided by the mountainous islands…anything seemed possible. Probable, even. “So, are you saying you want me to stay? On Kinloch?”

  “I still think I need to try and have the law changed. I dinnae think it’s right to be forced into matrimony.”

  She smiled. “I can only second that sentiment.”

  His smile was more a quirk of his lips. “Aye. So, I’ll pursue it the way I need to. I’m no’ sure what we’ll do or say about your presence. But we’ve the rest of this ferry ride to come up with something.”

  “We could just tell them the truth.”

  “What?”

  “The truth, Graham.” Now that she’d said it, she realized it was exactly what they should do. “Everything. What I was doing when you found me, why I’d decided to run off with you, why we changed our minds, and why I’m on Kinloch anyway. All of it.” She ducked her chin briefly and felt a flush creep up her neck. “Okay, so maybe not all of it.”

  He tipped her chin up, and his smile was both knowing and charming as hell. “Aye, perhaps no’ all of it. Rather hard to explain.”

  “Aye,” she echoed, her gaze drifting from his eyes to his mouth, then back to his eyes, which had darkened considerably in those few seconds.