Some Like It Scot. Donna Kauffman
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in the name of clan unity and prosperity.”
“Besides,” Shay went on, “there’s nothing in the law that says you can’t dissolve the union at a later time.”
“How much later?” Graham asked, still not actually considering following through on it. He was more set on getting the island to turn the law over than ever before. When he was done, not only would he not have to face the ridiculous stipulation, but neither would any MacLeod or McAuley after him. And it would effectively render Iain’s claim on Kinloch null and void as well. Win-win, the way he saw it.
“The original documents don’t address the topic directly. I suppose because divorce or dissolution of a marriage, especially an arranged one between two clans, wasn’t something that happened often, if ever. Especially in our case, where there was too much riding on the union to allow the participants that kind of luxury.”
“You’re saying none of them ever did? Divorce or dissolve, I mean?”
“I’ve gone all the way back,” Shay said. “Traced it all, looking for loopholes or precedent.” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. Then shook his head. “No’ a single union ended in anything other than death.”
“And no,” Roan said archly, “you can’t dump her off the cliffs.”
“Very funny.” Graham shook his head, then swore under his breath. “So you’re saying I could dissolve the union, but that I’d be the first in four hundred years to do so. Brilliant.”
“Well, you’re talking about dissolving the pact itself,” Roan said. “Surely if you think our fellow islanders will agree to such a thing, then they’d be equally amenable to you making a mockery of the law all together.”
Graham ducked his chin. He’d never once, in all his years, felt his birthright to be a burden. It was a vital, albeit sometimes difficult life path, but a challenging one he’d taken to with dedicated interest rather than complaint. Yet, in that moment, he’d be a liar if he said the mantle didn’t weigh heavily on his shoulders…and he wished he were merely the scientist farmer he felt himself to be.
“You truly dinnae think they’ll agree to abandon the law, do ye?” he said quietly, as the most likely eventuality sunk in and took hold for the first time. “Even though it might mean the very survival of this island?”
Both Shay and Roan shook their heads. “You could try,” Shay said.
“But, as I said, you’ll be wasting time that could be spent courting one”—Roan shifted the laptop back around and peered at the screen—“Katie McAuley.”
“Which isn’t a guaranteed win, either,” Graham reminded them. “I’m either asking my own clansmen to abandon the auld law, or allow me to make mock of it by finagling a marriage agreement from a woman I’ve never even met.”
“Ye’d hardly be the first in our history to do that,” Roan said. “And she’s no’ exactly hard on the eyes, lad. Have a look. Besides,” he said, his mischievous charm surfacing, “you were the one blessed with the MacLeod good looks and charm. We’d place our bets that you’d be able to win her over. Who knows, perhaps it wouldn’t be in name only. You would make quite the bonny couple.”
Graham scowled at him. He felt far from charming at the moment.
“Go on,” Shay urged. “Have a look. Then decide.”
“I can even pinpoint an exact location and time for you to meet,” Roan said.
“And however would you know that?”
Roan nodded at the screen. “She’s chatted about it with some of her girlfriends.”
“How is it you’re suddenly privy to chats she’s had with her mates?”
He sighed and rolled his eyes. “You really should consider using your own computer for something other than research. Perhaps if you had, we’d already have solved this problem.” He sighed when Graham merely continued waiting a response. “Facebook,” he explained, with exaggerated patience. “It’s all there on her wall.”
“Her what?” Graham waved a hand. “Truly, don’t elaborate. I dinnae want to know. There is work to be done. I can’t be dallying about on some online site, trolling for…” He shuddered, just thinking about it. “Ualraig is likely rolling in his grave right now and I couldn’t blame him. We havnae struggled and fought and worked so hard to have it all hinge on”—he waved his hand in the direction of the laptop—“that. Her.”
“Katie McAuley,” Roan supplied helpfully, clearly undaunted in the face of Graham’s disgust. “She’ll be at the St. Agnes chapel Saturday hence. Half past two. I’d strongly suggest you be there a might bit earlier.”
“At a chapel?” Shay asked.
“Mm hmm,” Roan said briskly, looking back at the screen, tapping the keys again. A moment later the printer started churning. “Wedding.”
“How poetic,” Shay said, his mouth curving in a wry grin. “Perhaps witnessing the vows will soften her up some, eh, Graham?”
“You need to talk to her before that,” Roan said, pulling the sheet from the printer and handing it to Graham. “After the ceremony people head in all different directions, and there is no telling how closely monitored the reception might be. The church is your best bet.”
Graham took the paper without even looking at it. “I canno’ believe you’re both serious. You truly believe I should travel all the way to the mainland, to—” He glanced down at the map printout Roan had given him, then squinted and looked at it more closely, before looking back at his oldest, dearest, and quite possibly soon to be dearly departed friend. “It says Annapolis. Maryland. Which, the last time I checked, wasn’t on the mainland, it was—”
“Oh, but it ’tis,” Roan said, his single dimple deepening with obvious glee. “Just happens it’s the mainland of America.”
“Now you truly have gone off your daft.” Graham turned to Shay. “I’m not heading across the pond to chase this”—he shook the paper as fury, along with a good amount of fear, knotted the words in his throat. “This is the most outrageous, preposterous—” He stormed to one end of the office, then back to face them. He had to make them see, make them understand. “We simply have to gain support for abolishing the law. That’s all there is to it.”
A light tap sounded on the door directly behind Graham. He’d barely moved out of the way when it swung open to reveal the stout form of Eliza McAuley. “Ye’ve a visitor, just in off the ferry.”
“Eliza, it will have to wait,” Graham said. “We’re in the middle of a very important discussion. We—”
“I’ve two perfectly good ears, Graham MacLeod. I can hear quite well what’s going on in here, and let me tell you,” she said, stepping up to him with a fiery light sparking her faded blue eyes to life, “Roan is correct. You’ll find little support for your abolishment scheme amongst the elders on this island. Don’t think we’ll stand by while you attempt to undermine what our ancestors set about creating. We’re still here four hundred years later largely due to their foresight.” Then she pinched his cheek, as she’d done since he was a wee lad. “Don’t think we dinnae love you, because we surely do, spoil you, we do. Doted on ye since ye were but a wee lad, traipsing along after your grandfather. And we’re proud of you now, we are. Fiercely so. We raised ye to be the man ye are, have no doubt of it. And are quite content with how you turned out. But you need to be sensitive to balancing your new ways with our auld ones.”
“Eliza,” he said, working his jaw slightly when she released his face. The pinch wasn’t any more enjoyable now than it had been in his youth. “Do you mean to say that you honestly believe it’s in our best interests for me to bind myself to what amounts to a complete stranger?”
Eliza’s smile was wide and confident. “Darling