“It should be the most joyous of days, entered into willingly and happily.”
“If only life were that simple.”
“Aye,” he said, thinking of his own immediate future, more than hers. “By any chance…do you know Katie McAuley?”
“I—what?” she said, frowning in confusion, then looked at him more closely. “Yes, of course I do.” She paused for a moment, then asked, her tone far more wary, “Who did you say you were again?”
“Graham MacLeod. I’ve come quite a long way to meet her.”
“You have? Why?”
Graham felt like a cad for bringing it up. But, for once, she was focused on him, and not so much on her own worries. Perhaps the distraction would give her the needed time to pull herself together. Or at least make him feel less guilty for badgering her when she clearly didn’t need any more of that in her life. He surmised her family was behind the wedding. He knew a little about the pressure family could bring to bear. In his case, the “family” extended to every man, woman, child, and sheep on Kinloch.
“Does she know you?”
He looked to her again, telling himself he needed to keep his own obligations in mind. “No, she’s never heard of me.” What the hell, he thought, and went with the truth. “I’ve come to ask her to marry me.”
The bride gave a short, spluttering laugh that ended with an alarming choking noise, prompting Graham to sit next to her. Gently, but firmly he patted her on the back. “Careful, now. Careful. Ye’ve a big moment ahead of you.”
Wrong thing to say.
She immediately withdrew and shifted away from him. “Yes. It’s just the wrong big moment.”
He thought she was going to dissolve into sobs again, or start another rant, but instead, she lifted her head and looked back at him. “Why do you want to marry a woman you’ve never met? Who has never met you?”
“It’s…complicated. It has to do with our dual ancestry and a ridiculous ancient clan law that I’m forced to abide by if I want to succeed my grandfather as MacLeod laird.”
“But she’s a McAuley.”
“Aye. We’re destined to always be joined. Four hundred years runnin’.” He lifted a hand. “I know, I sound like a lunatic—standin’ here in full clan regalia, lookin’ to propose to a complete stranger. Trust me, no one is more aware of that fact than I. But I’ve no choice other than to try. Too many people are countin’ on my success, and to do anything less would be a disservice to their loyalty and faith. Both to me and our joined ancestors. Beyond that, it’s a long, tedious story. And, to be sure, ye’ve better things to be doing at the moment than listenin’ to me.”
“I’d like to hear the story.”
“Shouldn’t you be gettin’ inside the chapel?”
“I should be runnin’, screamin’ from the chapel,” she said, lightly mocking his accent, which made his lips quirk, and hers too, he thought, as it appeared the red slash beneath the veil had curved a little.
“Actually,” she said, gesturing to herself and their surroundings, “I guess, in a way, I have. Halfway, at least.”
“What’s keepin’ you from runnin’ the rest of the way? In, or out? Your fiancé, is he a bad sort? Are you two ill matched, then? Is that the worry?”
“Blaine?” She laughed as if the very thought was unfathomable. “No, far from it. He’s the perfect man. With the perfect pedigree, from the perfect family.”
Graham was heartened by the news that she wasn’t about to legally bind herself to a scoundrel. Though why it mattered to him at all, he couldn’t have said.
“Both our families came over on the Mayflower,” she continued. “And it seems we haven’t managed to get away from sailing ships or each other, ever since.” She smiled then. “Perhaps it’s like your clan law thing. Only, in my case, it’s more of a clan curse.”
“In what way?” he asked, curious to hear her take on arranged marriage, given that’s what it sounded like.
She waved a dismissive hand, and promptly got it tangled up in her veil. He helped her extricate her slender fingers but it took a bit longer to get the netting untangled from her diamond ring.
“That’s…quite a stone,” he said, trying to gently work the mesh free.
She held her hand up, as if to admire the setting. “It would have been unseemly to give me anything less obscene.”
He paused in his ministrations and glanced at her, but could only see the barest hint of her chin as she’d averted her gaze once again. “I dinnae understand your meaning. I thought women loved diamonds.”
“Yes, of course. Women are supposed to swoon over the three Cs.” When he merely stared at her, she went on. “Cut, carat, and clarity. Me, I could give a rat’s patootie.”
He grinned before he could check the reaction, but she waved off his impoliteness, which just tangled her hand all over again. She tugged it free from his grasp. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll…figure it out later.”
He rather liked having her hand in his, something he wasn’t aware of until his own were free and he couldn’t seem to figure out what to do with them. He thought about that, a slender hand, delicate fingers adorned in diamonds, clasped in his, then glanced up at the church, and thought about the unsuspecting woman who waited inside.
“You’re really just going to up and propose?” she asked, following his gaze.
He jerked his gaze back to her, then to the ground, then finally lifted a shoulder. “I’ll introduce myself, explain my reason for being here, but…in the end, yes. I mean, it’s more a business dealing, no’ a true life commitment. But a commitment all the same, for whatever duration. Of course, I’d make the sacrifice worth her while, in whatever way I possibly could. All things considered…” He drifted off. Talking about it made the whole mission sound all the more ridiculous and hopeless. But one thing hadn’t changed. He still had to try.
“How well do ye know her?” he asked, glancing sideways at his bench companion.
“Are you asking me to tell you how best to get her to agree to your…proposition?”
“Never mind. That’s no’ fair, and ye’ve certainly got more pressing issues to deal with.” He started to rise. “I should leave you to them. I’m sorry I intruded.”
She impulsively grabbed his arm and tugged him back down on the stone bench. “Don’t leave. Yet.”
He looked at that same pale hand, still tangled in her veil, clutching his arm, and felt something clutch inside him. Very likely it was his heart constricting at the thought of another woman’s hand, similarly garbed, doing the same thing forty days hence.
She pulled her hand away. “Sorry. I just…I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts quite yet.” She paused, then looked at him. “Do you mind?”
He
