Some Like It Scot. Donna Kauffman
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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,