Some Like It Scot. Donna Kauffman
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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