Читать книгу Some Like It Scot - Donna Kauffman - Страница 10

“Thank you,” she told him. “For the support. I know you don’t understand why I’d even put myself in that situation. It’s—”

“Complex,” he finished. “That, I understand. We are oftentimes at the mercy of our duty to others. I’m no’ passing judgment, sitting as I am, on the outside looking in, anymore than I’d want anyone judging me.” He gestured between them, smiling. “Given the circumstances.”

She relaxed a bit further, and he was glad he’d cleared the air somewhat. After their rather dramatic exit from the church, changing the topic to the matter at hand—at least where he was concerned—wasn’t an easy task.

“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 Roan 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 couldn’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.”

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 candid 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?