Off Kilter. Donna Kauffman
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passage back here so he can take the job away from your miserable, thankless—”
Graham frowned. “Has there been any indication of Iain returning?”
Roan knew Graham didn’t share his personal concerns in that matter, so he didn’t mind ribbing him from time to time. Iain McAuley had been a long lost heir to the island lairdship after the previous chief’s death. He had shown up, out of the blue, intending to take what was rightfully his. And would have, if Graham hadn’t beaten him to the punch and gotten engaged to Katie. Iain had taken off as quickly as he’d come, and Roan wasn’t entirely certain they’d seen the last of him, “No, of course not. I was merely pointing out that you should be thanking me. Several times over. Because of my brilliant discovery and strategy, we’ve no’ only managed to thwart the still unexplained attempt by your late grandmother’s heir to usurp your title … but you might want to be thinkin’ on how if it weren’t for me, your bed would still be a cold, heartless, wasteland.” His smile returned as he swiftly regained his equilibrium, post-virago. “Of course, my own bed still qualifies as such, so I believe the sacrifice on my part could rightly be called sainted.”
Graham chuckled. “Aye, yer nobility is second only to your humble servitude.”
Roan grinned. “As long as we’re in agreement, then.”
Graham shook his head at that, then turned in time to watch Tessa stow her gear in the boot of Kira’s little Fiat. “She’s an interesting one, that one is.”
Roan looked past Graham’s shoulder. “I can think of other adjectives that come more quickly to mind, but she does make an impression.”
Graham glanced back at Roan, squinting against the sun that was dipping lower behind his back. “So, how is Kira these days?”
Roan suddenly found himself fiddling with the buttons on his shirt as he continued to dress. “Fine, I suppose, I dinnae much keep track. Far too much going on, what with your wedding less than a fortnight off, now combined with this ridiculous calendar scheme.” He looked up at Graham and quite deliberately changed the subject. “Do ye think we’re daft for trying to get into this thing? I mean, when Eliza brought the contest to my attention, I thought she’d truly gone mad, but once I looked into it and realized just how widely distributed the damn things are, it was almost too foolish not to try for it. The attention our inclusion in the calendar would bring to Kinloch would be marketing gold. Only, now—”
“Now you’re just pouting because you ended up having to stand in front of the camera and be part of the ridiculous scheme, instead of remaining mercifully anonymous by running the show from behind it.”
Roan opened his mouth intending to refute that statement. He’d devoted his entire adult life to doing everything he could to promote their island and its sole supporting industry, keeping them afloat economically, even hoping to push further, to a place where they could thrive. For that he’d do a hell of a lot more than be photographed with nothing more than his ancestors’ claymore. Roan smiled. “Says the man who’d rather be out in his fields, taking test samples of flax seeds. You’re just relieved that only the single blokes can participate.”
“Damn right,” Graham said on a laugh.
“And I dinnae pout.” Roan straightened and settled the rest of his garb into place. “It’s more a scowl. Surly and manly.”
“Here.” Graham handed over the sword he’d held while Roan got dressed, then turned and started off toward the Land Rover he’d left parked on the side of the road. “Don’t think I missed you changing the subject just now,” he called back over his shoulder.
Anything Roan might have said to that was lost when several of the villagers went up to Graham and started to excitedly discuss the wedding plans—in minute, excruciating, but ever-so-enthusiastic detail. Roan folded his arms and leaned against the wall again, taking pleasure in watching Graham’s knowing smile freeze into something passably congenial as he did his best to nod and agree and look like he was truly interested … all the while making the escape to his vehicle as fast as humanly possible.
Roan had no doubt that his childhood friend was reel to sinker hooked by his bride-to-be. The two were like besotted love birds when they got within so much as viewing distance of one another. It was enough to make a single lad choke. With envy. No one was more anxious to get to his wedding day than Graham. But Roan also knew from listening to his friend vent over ales and darts, that as happy as he was to see everyone else fall as swiftly in love with Katie as he had, he could live quite happily for the rest of his days without another soul mentioning tea roses and tatted lace to him ever again.
Smiling to himself, Roan followed behind at a decent pace. Most everyone had gone. More of them than not would likely head down to Angus’s for an ale and some gossip, second only to a game of darts as the most popular pastime on the island. He thought that sounded like a good end to a bad day, until he realized that he’d likely be the focus of a large portion of that gossip. Perhaps he’d head into the office instead, get a little work done without Eliza or anyone else sticking their noses in and about.
The sound of a slamming boot brought his head up. He’d been so lost in thought, he hadn’t been paying attention to the fact that Kira’s Fiat was still on the side of the road—which meant Tessa hadn’t left yet.
Brilliant.
His lorry was beyond her car, on the opposite side of the single track lane, so he could hardly ignore her. He found himself thinking that a nice conversation about tatted lace sounded pretty good at the moment and wished he’d kept up with Graham. He nodded, forcing a smile and hoping to ease on by without further incident.
“Tessa! Roan!”
They turned to see Katie ducking around another departing car, waving and smiling at them.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tessa’s shoulders slump a little. The fact that he felt the exact same way didn’t endear her to him. He adored Katie, but wished she’d caught up with him after Tessa had departed.
“Katie,” Roan responded with a ready grin. “Ye’ve missed the show entirely—for which I’m eternally grateful—unless of course, witnessing my manly display would have furthered my suit with you. In which case, we can probably set up something a bit more intimate later on.” He glanced at Tessa. “Have no fear, I won’t be requiring your services.”
“For which I’m eternally grateful,” she said, eyeing the two of them.
Katie punched Roan in the shoulder, which was the expected and now traditional response to all of his teasing and flirting. Rubbing his shoulder, he accepted her follow-up hug and adopted European mode of kissing him on both cheeks, which always amused and charmed him. That was the effect Katie had on everyone.
She turned to Tessa and grinned. “Feel free to ignore him when he’s like that, or just punch him.”
“Does it help? The punching? I’ve tried ignoring.”
“If you mean will it make him stop, no. But it does make you feel better.”
Roan watched the exchange, not entirely sure whether Tessa was being droll, or completely lacking in humor. If it wasn’t for her dazzling display toward the end of their photo shoot, he’d have insisted to anyone who asked that it was the latter.
Katie stuck her hand out. “We haven’t officially met. I’m Katie McAuley, Graham MacLeod’s fiancée and therefore the source of a great deal of what I’m sure is very annoying wedding minutiae you could well live without. For that I apologize. I’m also a very distant cousin to this guy.” She elbowed Roan in the ribs and he tugged at one of her blond curls. “I apologize for that, too. Frequently.”
Roan watched Tessa take in their byplay, and though there might have been a flicker in her eyes, her expression remained smooth. “Completely understandable.” She took Katie’s hand in a short, but not impolite handshake. “Tessa Vandergriff.”
“I understand you’re Kira’s friend,”