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Authors: Donna Kauffman

Off Kilter (16 page)

BOOK: Off Kilter
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Since he couldn’t seem to get his mind off the only woman who would likely never willingly agree to enter into such an institution—with him or anyone else. But he could hardly tell Eliza that. Hell, he could hardly even admit it to himself. “Oh, I’m all for Graham doing it. Hey, maybe it’s just wedding night envy. The rest of us poor blokes will go home alone tonight.”

Eliza’s expression said she didn’t buy a single word of that.

“Perhaps you should go find out if Shay needs your estimable skills,” he suggested.

“Shay does not,” the man himself said, as he strolled into the small anteroom, off the main chapel of the abbey.

Though the vows would be spoken in the meadow, the procession was to begin from there. Complete with horse drawn carriage, transporting the lovely Katie, along with her man of honor. Roan’s mouth twisted in a wry grin at the thought of that ironic little scenario. The man Katie had dumped at the altar was escorting her down the aisle as her witness. Who better to stand by her side than the only person in her life who’d stood by her all along?

Roan knew Katie had made an effort, more than once, to reconnect with her parents before the ceremony, but they had remained unwavering in their silence. Roan understood, perhaps better than anyone, what it was like be considered a choice by the very people who had brought you into the world, rather than a duty, much less a blessing. Whereas his mum and dad—teenagers both—had run off, leaving him on the doorstep of a pub in Castlebay on their way to parts unknown, never to be heard from again, Katie’s had raised her as a family-owned corporate entity to be utilized to the best advantage by the very same family-owned corporation.

He supposed there was an argument to be made that Katie’s parents had been raised in households with a similar mind-set and didn’t know how to do otherwise. But, to him, the lack of basic humanity toward their own daughter was downright disgusting.
At least his parents could be partially absolved for being too young to understand the full impact of the reckless choices they’d made. He’d come to think that leaving him to be raised by someone—anyone—else was perhaps the one true gift they’d given him.

But he couldn’t say he’d stopped wondering whether they’d ever paused and considered what had become of their abandoned offspring.

Katie’s parents were presently holding her trust fund and all of her worldly possessions hostage, thinking it was the leverage that would get their daughter—a.k.a. their corporate investment—to return herself to the asset column. He supposed it was sad, bordering on pathetic, they likely had no sense whatsoever that she could find complete and utter fulfillment without any of those things. She would never be going back to what they held dear.

Roan had seen her in her gown earlier, looking like a magical fairy goddess. She lit up so angelically when speaking of how excited she was to exchange her vows with her one and only, and he thought it was utterly tragic that her parents would never understand the true asset they’d lost and should have held dearest.

“I believe our carriage awaits,” Shay announced, giving Roan a quick once over, then standing next to him as they looked into the full-length mirror perched in the corner. “We almost look respectable.”

They were wearing their plaids and full clan regalia. McAuley colors for Roan, Callaghan colors for Shay. He was one of only a handful on the island of three hundred plus who wasn’t McAuley or MacLeod.

“A shame we already know all the single women at the reception,” Shay said, quite seriously.

“Aye. No’ a chance we’ll field the question,” Roan said, adjusting his sporran.

“What question is that?”

They turned as Blaine waltzed into the room—which, was the only appropriate adjective, really. His gait was too regal to be a sashay.

The man was a bit godlike in appearance, in a magazine advert kind of way, Roan supposed. It was only when he moved … or talked … that one realized there was a goddess hidden beneath his mythical exterior. His arrival on the island hadn’t initially been met with enthusiasm, given the villagers immediate affection toward Katie and fear he’d come to interfere with the impending nuptials. But once that fear had been put to rest, they’d quickly accepted the chatty and quick-witted Yank. Roan couldn’t be certain his sexual orientation had been met so open-heartedly by some of the more devout and traditional clan elders, but life on a remote island wasn’t for the faint of heart. Islanders were rugged individualists. In that regard, his very differences were seen as endearing quirks. And God knows, they all had them.

“What a true Scotsman wears beneath his kilt,” Shay responded, still admiring his oh-so-serious self.

Blaine considered the response for a moment, appearing thoughtful, then tossed off a quick grin. “And here I was already a fan of any culture that endorses men wearing skirts. Hmm.” He gave them both a cheeky once over.

Shay glanced at Roan, who glanced back. They shared a quick shake of the head. Then Shay looked back at Blaine. “Today, we shall let you live. But only because Katie would make our lives an eternal living hell if we were found responsible for anything happening to you.”

“Not to worry,” Blaine said, not remotely chastened. He tipped his top hat in their direction. “You’re not my types anyway.”

Again, Shay and Roan exchanged glances. “I believe we’ve just been insulted,” Shay said, turning back to the mirror, serious as ever. “What’s not to love?”

“Graham’s reaction if the two of you scoundrels are late to
the meadow,” Eliza said, hustling back into the chamber, only to stop short as she spied Blaine. “My, my, don’t you look the vision.”

Roan had no idea where Blaine had acquired his get up, though he wouldn’t have been at all surprised if it was simply a part of the regular wardrobe the man traveled with. He had on pinstriped dress trousers, a dove gray, cutaway jacket with tails, and had completed the look with a deep rose pink cummerbund, cream silk ascot, dove gray top hat, and a slender black cane. The shame was that he actually carried it off with more elan than even the swishiest of Brits would have.

Blaine doffed his hat and bowed deeply in front of Eliza, then took her hand. “You are as delightful a vision as the first blush of spring.” He kissed the back of her hand, surprising a delighted smile from her, and if Roan wasn’t mistaken, a bit of a blush.

He hadn’t thought that was actually possible. His estimation of Blaine rose a notch or two just for that feat alone.

“We were just heading out,” Roan told Eliza.

“If I could have a short moment,” Blaine said, sending a gracious smile toward Eliza, who didn’t need further explanation that he’d wanted the short moment to be a private one.

“Dinnae be late!” she warned, then winked at Blaine, the blush still pinking up her ruddy cheeks. She bustled out, arrayed in quite the fancy mauve church dress, with a lace hat pinned to the back of her gray bun.

“We’ll be along shortly,” Shay assured her, then turned to Blaine. “What is it?”

Blaine waited for the office door to shut. Roan could have told him it wouldn’t stop Eliza from hearing every last word if that was her intent. But it would be a waste of time.

“As you know,” Blaine said, looking back at the two of them, “Katie has made overtures to her parents more than once since her arrival.”

Roan frowned and felt a certain tension slide down his spine. “Are you saying they’re going to somehow interfere in
the proceedings today? I thought they’d maintained their silence throughout.”

Blaine lifted a perfectly tailored shoulder. “They have. But I know the McAuleys—our branch, anyway—and though it doesn’t surprise me that they’ve cut Katie off without so much as a single tear shed, I’ve had my doubts that they’d actually allow her to tie the McAuley name legally to anyone without some attempt at intervention. It’s one thing to allow her to run off and have a tantrum, no matter how unseemly. Quite another to go off making decisions that could affect the corporate bottom line.”

“What’s going on?” Roan asked, the tension turning to dread.

“I’ve been keeping tabs.”

“From here? How?”

“I might not have had the fortitude to do what Katie did, but one big difference in our manner of parting is that, as the tragic, betrayed victim, I still have my allies back at home.”

Katie’s family was bound to Blaine’s through their joint industry of building expensive racing yachts as well as other high-end floaties. McAuley-Sheffield had been in the boating business together for several hundred years, in fact. The pairing of Katie with Blaine had happened almost at birth, their collective parents all but salivating over the legal union and what it could do for the family-owned business, especially when there was an ever bigger push to take the company public. Katie had ruined all that by walking out on their wedding day. Roan knew how the McAuleys had responded. He had no sense what Blaine’s side had done after his defection.

“Are you in contact with your family, then?” Roan asked.

Blaine’s jaw tightened a little, but otherwise he kept his tone upbeat and wry. “Let’s just say that if you think the McAuleys are being chilly toward their daughter, my family is being downright glacial to me.”

“They’re not blaming you for the wedding being called off, are they? Katie said it was pretty clear that it was all her doing. I can see them transferring blame to Graham, but not—”

“No, it’s not that. Not only that, anyway. Let’s just say other information became public that day that was even more newsworthy to my family’s assembled friends and business associates.”

“Ah,” Roan said.

“Indeed,” Blaine said, not looking particularly upset about it, at least not outwardly.

Roan couldn’t imagine such a pivotal moment being received so poorly as anything other than brutal, bordering on devastating. But Blaine seemed to have recouped well enough. Perhaps he hadn’t expected anything different.

“The biggest difference between our circumstances now is that I had the foresight to do a bit of self-preservation planning. You know, just in case,” Blaine went on. “I told Katie time and again she needed to squirrel away a little here and there. The Caymans are lovely for that sort of thing, as it happens.” He waved a gloved hand—Roan had missed that detail—and said, “She didn’t think it was necessary. Kind of ironic, given how things turned out, but she won’t let me help her. Not in that regard. However, there are other ways friends can support friends. So … I’ve been keeping an ear to the ground.”

“She doesn’t know about that?” Shay asked.

“I tried to talk with her about it, but she was fairly adamant that I not stick my nose in. I had no intention of stopping, so I just stopped talking to her about it.”

“What have you learned? There is still a ferry docking before the ceremony. Is there a surprise waiting us?”

Blaine smiled at him indulgently. “Oh, the McAuleys would never arrive by ferry. How … plebian.”

Roan and Shay frowned. “The closest airstrip is on Barra,” Shay said, referring to the nearest island to Kinloch. Even that was just a narrow strip on the sandy beach.

“You have docks, don’t you?”

“For fishing boats, but we’re hardly set up for anything elaborate.”

“What I mean is, you have a harbor. That’s why they make offshore anchors and skiffs for taxi transport.”

“Of course they do.” Roan sighed, feeling that the inevitable was upon them. Poor Katie. Nothing should dampen that day for her. “The wedding is less than an hour from now. Will they have time enough to say their vows?”

“Yes, but you know how they weren’t planning on going anywhere for their honeymoon?”

“The flax harvest—Graham feels he needs to be here. They’ll go after the harvest is done.”

“But you could spare them for, say, the weekend, right?”

“That’s what I tried to tell him, but—”

“A weekend in the Cotswolds would be lovely this time of year,” Blaine added. “Lovely private cottage, a bit of hiking, taking in the beginning of the fall colors.” He sighed somewhat rhapsodically, then went on with a sharp look in his eye. “In fact, I was thinking it would make a nice wedding present. Especially if they left immediately after the ceremony.”

Roan was smiling as he glanced at Shay, who’d also cracked an uncustomary smile. “Great idea. Except the last ferry will be gone before—” Roan broke off as an odd sound vibrated through the air. “What is that?”

“I’m not much for boats,” Blaine said, by way of explanation. “You understand.”

They walked outside the abbey just as a small, sleek black helicopter landed on the smooth beach below, off to the west of the abbey, in the shadow of the ancient ruins.

“How did you manage—?”

Blaine smiled. “As I said, self-preservation planning. Comes in gloriously handy, doesn’t it?”

Roan looked back at the chopper and grinned. “Aye. That it does.”

“Now all we have to do is convince Graham to get on the damn thing.” Shay looked at Blaine. “He’s no’ much for flying.”

“I’m thinking once I explain that there’s a yacht on the horizon with Katie’s parents on board, along with their lawyer—”

“Lawyer?” Roan’s eyes widened. “They’re bringing legal representation to their daughter’s wedding?”

“One never enters into commodity negotiations without legal being present.”

“Bugger that,” Shay said.

Roan had known her parents’ attitude was bad, but Katie tended to play it down, make jokes at her own expense. Even so, he hadn’t known it was quite like that. “Fine. I’ll go have a talk with Graham.” He took two steps toward the exit, then turned back and stuck his hand out to Blaine. “Thank you. You’re a good friend.”

Blaine shook his hand once, firmly. “You’d do the same for someone you cared about.”

Roan’s mind flashed immediately to Tessa. “Sometimes the path to giving aid isn’t always so clear, or appreciated.” He let that go, wishing he hadn’t said anything. He was worried about Katie. “What if Katie doesn’t want to go? What if she wants to confront her parents?”

“That’s her choice,” Blaine said. “But this is her wedding day. I don’t think this will be the day she’ll want to take them on. They had their chance to deal with this before now. I’m going to talk to her while you talk to Graham.”

BOOK: Off Kilter
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