Some Like It Scot (19 page)

“Just shift on over a bit,” the old man instructed. “Your young man here is going to take up a bit of space. No' to worry,” he added with a quick wink. “I'll part with some of my own for one so pretty as yourself.”

Katie smiled in return, and said, “Oh, he's not my ma—” but broke off when she caught Graham's gaze over the driver's shoulder. Momentarily flustered for reasons he couldn't fathom given that his own dark mood had to be readily apparent, she nonetheless quickly looked back to the old man and said, “Thank you, I appreciate that.”

Graham hadn't given any thought as to how they should best conduct themselves in public. For the moment, he didn't mind her allowing the driver to believe what he would. Any misconception about them would be clarified with their sleeping arrangements. And the fact that they would very likely be departing on opposite ferries in the morning. Not that anyone should care or notice, but the old man looked like the type to spin a tale or two over a pint of ale. Given the deference he'd granted Graham based on his leadership position on Kinloch, he doubted the man would pass up the chance to embellish on that a little. Nor would it surprise him for word of any or all of their visit to eventually reach ears on Kinloch. But between the call he planned to make later, and catching the first ferry over in the morning, he was doubtful anything would come of it before he reached home himself.

He climbed in the lorry after Katie, and though thankful for the offer of a lift into the village proper, Graham was grateful it was also a short drive. Space was at a distinct premium, and he quickly discovered spending an hour out of each other's eyesight after being joined at the hip for two long days hadn't given his body quite the respite it needed for him to regain control of his responses where she was concerned.

That moment out of time on the docks might have had a bit to do with it as well, but he was already trying to distance himself from that entire episode and remain steadfastly focused on the here and now. It was where his attentions had to remain if he had any hope of sorting out the best path to achieve his goals as he'd originally intended—before he'd allowed the insanity of Roan and Shay's idiot plan to sway him into such ill-advised action.

That particular part of his goal was impossible to achieve at the moment. Katie was all but plastered against him, knee to hip, elbow to shoulder. It had taken enormous self-control not to flinch like a startled tern when the door closed behind him, shoving him up against Katie in the tight space before he could brace himself against it. Not that it would have mattered. When the driver climbed in, whatever space Graham could have put between him and Katie was irrevocably taken away.

He sat there like a stupid git, feeling both ridiculous and mortified, but unable to stop himself from fearing that at any moment he'd be transported off to God knew where again. He had no idea what outward shift might have happened during that time, but given that he had absolutely nowhere to hide, he bloody well didn't want to find out.

Further disconcerting him was the way his body had chosen to respond to the continued forced contact with Katie. It wasn't bad enough he was grappling with an apparent mental defect, but he had to deal with a very…immediate and hard-to-hide reaction to her close proximity. Whether it was simply a continued response to the ongoing stimulation they'd shared between them during the entire journey, or some leftover effect of the beguiling faery-witch in his unplanned dream-leap on the dock, he had no idea. It didn't much matter. He had to deal with the end result regardless.

He could only hope to get himself under some semblance of control before he had to stand upright again, as his kilt would do little to conceal his current state of salute. Hadn't he quite enough to deal with at the moment?

So naturally, as Katie chatted with the driver, his thoughts went straight to the kiss they'd shared aboard the ferry. Specifically the one she'd initiated. He wasn't sure what had predicated that shift. Nor had he done anything to put a stop to it. If she hadn't ended it herself, he wasn't quite sure they wouldn't have ended up in the deep shadows behind one of the rescue boats, getting some direct relief for the consistent state of awareness they'd both been in since the prior morning.

It felt like at least a century or two had passed since he'd stood up in her family church and all but ordered her to come away with him. In the interim, it increasingly seemed as if he was incapable of rightly knowing his own mind when he was around her. He listened as the old man chatted away, regaling Katie with some story of a man at the local pub singing a song about a mermaid with a distinct resemblance to Katie's lovely countenance.

It was Graham's turn to privately roll his eyes, but Katie was too engaged in the conversation to notice. Considering the driver was falling in and out of Gaelic as he spoke, his island accent so thick even Graham would have had to pay attention to catch everything the old Scot was saying, Graham doubted Katie had the first clue what was actually being said, and was simply working off whatever clues she could gather.

Graham watched her interact with him as if she understood every last word. She was good with people. He supposed that shouldn't be overly surprising, given her family's business and social standing. She'd probably learned to work a room by the time she could walk. But what he saw was different. She was comfortable, and the conversation was genuine. Or her interest in it was, anyway.

It made him wonder how she'd have handled her arrival in Kinloch. Not that he'd ever thought she couldn't handle it. Back to that family training. She could probably run rings around most of his clanspeople, without them ever being aware they'd been managed. But watching the clear sincerity she felt, and the obvious joy she was taking in what was nothing more than a random meeting, he found himself picturing how she'd handle everyone from Roan and Shay, to old Eliza. Iain, as well, now that he thought on it. It hadn't occurred to him that she could have helped him thwart that threat directly, but he couldn't help but contemplate what might have been.

He'd have enjoyed seeing her work the island. He hadn't met her at her best, and he knew the long days they'd shared had been fatiguing and an emotional scramble for her. But, out there in the islands, packed inside that lorry, he was perhaps truly seeing her for the first time. He realized then, beyond the brief time inside the church, he'd never observed her interact with anyone. He'd done much of the planning and herding them along since then. He noted her natural ebullience, which shone through despite her fatigue. Maybe the stroll on the deck had brought the color back to her cheeks, but listening to her chatter away with the lorry driver, you'd never have guessed how exhausted she was.

The old man was beaming. She had that ability to focus on one person and make them feel like the center of her world. He knew from personal experience. Her wit, her candor, her confidence, and even her vulnerability all combined to form one formidable package.

His people wouldn't have stood a chance with her. She'd have dazzled them all without even trying.

He ducked his chin, corralled his wayward thinking. Again. He had to come up with whatever his new proposition for her was going to be, figure out what he could do for her, to help her along in the next phase of her life, without coming off as patronizing or condescending.

Not that it would likely matter what he offered or the manner in which he delivered it, once he told her he'd changed his mind—he'd dragged her away from her family and across an ocean, on the promise of a haven away from the chaos of her life and a foundation upon which to build a new one, and didn't need her anymore—especially since they were but a ferry ride away from the beginning of it all.

It wasn't true at all, except and only as it pertained to his original reason for taking her there. So much had happened since. He wanted her. On Kinloch, in his life…but not because of some ridiculous agreement. However, he sincerely doubted she'd still want to accompany him, once he told her the plan was off.

He figured from what he knew about her she'd toss any alternate offer he made directly back in his face. In fact, he'd be lucky if that was the only thing she directed at his face. He wouldn't lay the least bit of blame on her for that. He'd never treated anyone with less forethought and care. Knowing he'd never meant it to be that way didn't help assuage the guilt.

How in God's name had he let things get so far afield?

“Here we are,” the driver announced, still favoring Katie with the very twinkliest of grins. He'd been enamored of her at the slip dock and was downright infatuated after the short ride. Graham wished like hell he couldn't understand that attraction.

“Allow me,” the old man said, sliding out of his door faster than his age or girth would have implied was possible. He immediately reached a hand in to help Katie slide across the seat and slip her feet to the ground. She landed with an assisted hop. Graham snapped out of his stupor and managed to get out his side and around to the back of the lorry first. He was unloading her bags before they came around back to stand next to him.

The driver started to step in, flustered that he'd slacked on his duty and was allowing someone he clearly thought of as deserving of his finest service, to tend to that service himself. Graham didn't tread as carefully this time, more interested in finishing the job and getting inside the inn, than coddling the old man's traditional sensibilities. “I've got it,” he said, not unkindly, but not brooking any further discussion. “Could you escort Miss McAuley into the inn?” He glanced at Katie. “It will just be a few minutes. Perhaps you could ask what the chances would be of us getting a plate of leftovers from the kitchen at this hour.” She would make a far more enchanting beggar than he would.

Once again she looked at him as if he'd been abducted by aliens and replaced with some kind of duplicate she didn't understand.
If she only knew just how accurate that assessment was
, he thought crossly.

Katie didn't respond to him directly, but turned and took the driver's proffered arm and bestowed a particularly beguiling smile in his direction. “Thank you, kind sir,” she said, then laughed when the driver bowed with quite the regal flourish, before helping her onto the walkway. Neither of them looked back as they crossed to the heavy, carved door with the stained-glass window that served as the inn's entrance. Graham was left standing there, scowling after them, instead of getting the buggered suitcases out of the damn lorry.

He tried to look on the bright side as he hauled first one stack, and another, then finally another of the matching leather pieces into the foyer of the inn. He'd only have to do that one last time, in the morning.

He pictured the look on Roan's and Shay's faces had he debarked the ferry on Kinloch with Katie by his side, followed by the mountain of luggage. A brief smile quirked the corners of his mouth despite his rather foul mood. They definitely wouldn't have known what to make of her. He shook his head. But, like him, they'd have been intrigued enough to want to find out.

He entered the inn with the last load and deposited it by the rest of the stack. He paid the driver and thanked him for the lift so late at night. The old man was still clearly feeling the effects of his lovely lorry passenger as he quite happily told Graham he'd have done it for free—after he'd pocketed the pound notes into his back pocket, of course.

“Even one as mighty as The MacLeod couldnae hae done better than that one,” he said with a wink. “My best to you both.”

With an imaginary tip of a hat, the driver let himself out of the lobby before Graham could come up with a suitable reply. He glanced around, but didn't see Katie or the innkeeper. Perhaps she'd taken it upon herself to book the rooms and was presently being shown to hers. The idea that he might have a reprieve before having to confront her about what was going to happen next was an unexpected gift.

But it did not explain the sense of disappointment he felt when he realized that meant not seeing her until morning, and only then to drop the bomb on her and escort her back to the ferry.

“Perverse is wha' ye are,” he muttered under his breath. The truth of it was, he wanted to get it over with and her on a boat, train, and plane back to the U.S. and out of his life as soon as possible, so he could focus all his energies on the new obstacle at hand—abolishing the damn law that had started the insanity in the first place. He'd also need to get on with the task of putting her out of his thoughts, and his life, once and for all.

He simply wasn't certain, standing there, which was going to be the harder job in the end.

He'd been fully prepared to talk with Roan later, and tell him everything that had happened. Well, maybe not the part about having full-blown hallucinations like some sort of mental ward patient. But he was thinking, perhaps it was best to simply omit the part about Katie being willing to come to Kinloch all together. Roan would be like a dog with a bone if he knew Graham had come so close to solving the problem by following Roan's lead. And far less willing to do whatever he could to help Graham with the position he'd decided to take.

He'd tell Roan at some point, of course. When Katie was back in Maryland, and after he'd found a way to end that ridiculous race against time. And after Iain left Kinloch. And after everyone returend to their normal lives.

Katie chose that moment to reenter the foyer area, with the innkeeper in tow. She was smiling at something the older woman had said, and though Graham could see the telltale signs of weariness fanning from the corners of her eyes and in the slight stoop of her shoulders, he could also feel the vibrancy she brought to a place just by being in it. There was an energy to Katie like some sort of tractor beam pulling him, from the first when he'd heard her swearing a blue streak in the prayer garden.