Off Kilter (9 page)

He swallowed a groan and closed his eyes briefly as Father Madaig droned on, but rather than block her from his mind, the action only served to further clarify his mental image of her. He pictured her smiling the way she did, the kind of half curve of her lips that told him she knew far more than she had a right
to know. He could all but hear her voice … all throaty and authoritative, telling him what was what. She didn’t like to be pushed around, but she sure didn’t mind doing the pushing. His body leapt again at the idea of what a fun challenge that could be.

“Earth to Roan.”

He blinked his eyes open and glanced sideways at Shay. “Right here, mate.”

Shay angled his chin to Roan’s right as he subtly nudged the back of Roan’s arm. Roan turned to find both Father Madaig and Graham staring at him with varying degrees of patience.

“Ring?” Graham said, clearly amused.

Roan glanced between him and auld Father Maddy, who was decidedly less entertained by his lack of attention. But then, he’d been rather stern where Roan was concerned since the time, as an eight-year-old altar boy, he’d almost burned out their centuries-old church by tipping over the votive prayer candles during a rather impromptu race against Graham to the double doors leading outside. A race he’d won, by the way.

Graham hadn’t seemed to earn the same level of consternation. Of course, Graham had been the future laird and a model little altar boy. Or so Father Maddy thought. Roan had discovered his gift of charming himself out of sticky situations at a right early age … but Father Maddy had always been particularly immune. Roan had eventually concluded that the dour old man simply couldn’t comprehend those with a natural, sunny nature. Likely he was confused by why Roan didn’t spend more time being terrified of the fire and brimstone that seemed to dog Father Maddy’s every waking thought.

Poor bloke.

Because he’d probably never completely outgrow his more impish impulses, Roan smiled beatifically at the good Father, as he automatically groped in his pocket, then just as abruptly stopped. “We’re rehearsin’. I dinnae have it on me. It’s in safekeeping.” He’d given it into the watchful eye of Eliza—which
was almost the same as having it guarded by the queen herself.

He glanced past Graham and winked at Katie, who was also smiling.
See,
he wanted to tell Father Maddy,
even the bride isn’t put off by my brief bit of daydreaming.

He could hardly be blamed for his wandering thoughts. It was a spectacular September afternoon, and they weren’t in the church proper, but standing in a field on the northeast side of the island, near enough to the water for the ruins of the original abbey, situated just offshore, to be in easy view. Where they stood was the very spot where Graham had proposed to Katie, a surprisingly lush little bower of green meadow, tucked in the midst of an otherwise rocky bit of grazing pasture.

He grinned and gripped Graham’s outstretched hand in a hearty handshake. “Go for it, lad. I have a feelin’ she’ll say yes, ring or no’.” Katie laughed, Father Maddy scowled at their unscheduled levity—he was a stickler for ritual—then all of them, except Roan, glanced over to a point just behind Shay as another voice intruded into the moment. A throaty, authoritative voice.

“Father, I’m sorry to interrupt, but would it be possible to restage this so you’re all angled just a bit”—Tessa walked up to the small, gathered group and gestured with her hands—“that way? It would make for a stunning backdrop to the photos.”

Photos. What, she was a wedding photographer, now?

Roan realized he was bracing himself before turning to look fully at her. He consoled himself that his hesitation was merely due to the mental images he’d been entertaining only moments ago. The bracing didn’t help in the least. He shifted his weight, fighting the natural response of his body as his gaze took in all of her. He hadn’t seen her since their unfortunate run-in a few days before, and he’d rather hoped that seeing her again would put his odd preoccupation into some rational perspective. The one where she annoyed him, he annoyed her, and he could go
for more than five minutes without thinking about her with anything other than stifled irritation.

Katie and Graham had both turned around and were following Tessa’s hand motions while she explained how the shot would be best framed as they said their vows. “So, from the back, you get a nice view of the mountains in the distance, and if I’m shooting to get your faces”—she nimbly climbed up and tiptoed across a jut of rocks to position herself on a taller outcropping just behind Father Madaig—“from here,” she said, not even a little bit out of breath, “then you’ll be framed by the shore line and the abbey as well, but this way the tower won’t be in the shot.”

She smiled quick and natural, and it was such a normal thing, as if she did it often … except, in his experience, she didn’t. That smile wasn’t any less impressive than the only other time he’d seen it. Truly transforming. The witty rejoinder that sprang to mind died unspoken as he simply got caught up in the glory of it.

“I know you said the abbey was important,” she continued, “but I’m thinking having what amounts to an ancient jail in your wedding photos isn’t something you’re really interested in.”

It was, more or less, what he’d have said—if he wasn’t so awestruck by how greatly a warm smile transformed her otherwise sober and serious face, and by how the rest of her seemed to be affecting him.

“Also, once we’ve concluded here, I think it would be great if we went back to Flaithbheartach, so we can frame a few shots of you there. I know you’re holding the reception in the village, but I think the historical and ancestral significance might be a really wonderful addition to your album, and one that you’ll appreciate having later.”

Tessa pronounced the Gaelic-named clan stronghold where Graham and Katie lived, as if she’d been born to the language. Katie had been there a month and still called it Flyvertuck—
which made him smile. Of course, she’d named the village Port Joy, opting for a loose translation of the Gaelic meaning rather than take a shot at its given name, Aoibhneas. It was only surprising she hadn’t nicknamed the fortress the Castle of Lordly Deeds or something equally amusing.

But when the often amusing Katie turned to more serious and sober Graham, Roan thought there was no way any man presently drawing breath could say no to the sparkle and enthusiasm that so naturally lit up her face.

“It would add time between the ceremony and reception,” she said to him, “but I think Tessa is right.”

Graham, the studious scientist, was a completely different man when he was around his bride-to-be. He smiled broadly and often, and there was something quite vulnerable in his expression when he looked at her. Roan felt his heart tighten up as he unashamedly witnessed their obvious love for one another. It was as if they didn’t have to speak words to truly communicate with each other. He wasn’t jealous—he couldn’t be more sincerely happy for the two of them—but there was no denying he’d grown deeply envious of what his best friend had found.

Despite Roan’s own untraditional childhood, he’d always known he wanted to spend his life growing old and doddering as half of a united pair. He’d never known his own parents, but being raised by an entire village had its advantages. He’d witnessed, close up, more strong unions than he could count. The entire history of the McAuley and MacLeod clans on Kinloch was specifically and legally bound by the sanctity of the marriage bond. Vows were taken quite seriously on that tiny spit of land, and Roan was right on board with those deeply held, traditional beliefs.

In fact, he’d been the one to push Graham into fulfilling his own obligation as the new reigning laird by completing his role in the centuries old Marriage Pact that guided the leadership of the island. In order to keep the strength and unity on Kinloch
intact, for the past four hundred years, each McAuley or MacLeod island chief was legally bound to marry a member of the opposing clan in order to retain clan leadership. Graham’s fulfillment of that ancient pact had directly resulted in Katie being welcomed into their island fold. What he’d told Tessa the day of their close collision was true. Katie might not have been on Kinloch for many weeks, but everyone on the island would agree it was as if she’d been part of their clan for a very, very long time.

Tessa might not be enjoying the same hearty welcome, but she wasn’t exactly embracing her good fortune in being there, as Katie had. Watching her, Roan wondered if there had been a change of heart … and what had provoked it. He had a hard time believing, after talking to her about her burnout—at least as he’d interpreted it—that she’d have willingly or happily taken on another such assignment. It was important to the islanders, as had been the calendar shoot … but certainly not something she’d have otherwise done. He could imagine, much like a physician being asked to perform surgery on vacation, she was put out by another request for her services.

And yet, she seemed quite in her element, scampering over the rocks, figuring out shots, lining up angles, and ordering everyone about. He hid a smile. That she truly embraced the last part wasn’t such a stretch.

Katie, Graham, and Shay were all smiling and happily accommodating her suggestions. Even Father Madaig didn’t seem too awfully put out by the disruption of the established order of events. In fact, he seemed almost … flattered, when Tessa asked if he wouldn’t mind turning just a bit, so his profile would be handsomely displayed. Perhaps he’d Googled her, too, Roan thought, then immediately dismissed that, finding it impossible to imagine the curmudgeonly and pious minister embracing technology any more advanced than that requiring a wick and a match.

Perhaps Tessa had taken to heart Roan’s comment about
Kinloch’s open arms when it came to welcoming misfits, embracing the lost, or simply offering solace and shelter to those who needed it. Kira had been a little bit of all three of those things. She’d grown up on Kinloch, but had gone off, as so many did, to find her fortunes elsewhere. But she was welcomed back as warmly as if she’d never left.

Roan turned and skimmed his gaze over the field behind them, glancing toward the road; though Kira’s car was parked on the verge, there was no sign she’d accompanied her friend. In fact, he was somewhat surprised the entire village hadn’t turned out to watch the rehearsal, given everyone’s gleeful obsession with the whole event. Perhaps out of deference to Katie and Graham they’d decided to leave them to at least conduct some of the preparations in peace. The field where they stood would be filled with every man, woman, and child come Friday, as they witnessed Katie and Graham’s vows firsthand. Roan wouldn’t be surprised if even the livestock was somehow appropriately festooned for the occasion.

All and sundry would head into Aoibhneas to celebrate the most important union to take place on Kinloch’s bonny shores since the last chief, Ulraig MacLeod, had married well over a half century before.

Shay had barely made it back from Edinburgh in time for the nuptials, and Roan was reminded he’d yet to ask him if he’d found out anything further about his distant cousin, Iain McAuley. A cousin they’d all met when he’d come out of the woodwork to stake his own claim to Kinloch as the heir next in line if Graham hadn’t found a bride. Once Graham’s engagement to Katie had been set, Iain had disappeared on the next ferry, gone as swiftly as he’d come.

Graham seemed willing to shrug off any lingering concerns about whatever it was that had prodded Iain to show up in the first place. Roan wasn’t so certain. And neither was Katie. To that end, she’d put Blaine on the case.

Roan’s gaze moved past Katie to where Blaine stood to her
right. Tall, blue-eyed, and blond like Katie, he had that aristocratic look about him, though at least he didn’t sneer through it, as so often seemed the case with those born into privilege. He seemed a decent enough sort, all in all, but Roan had long since given up pretending he had any real understanding of Blaine and Katie’s lifelong relationship. In the end, the only thing that mattered to Roan was that Blaine was no threat to Graham’s future happiness. Other than being an annoying distraction, he seemed relatively harmless.

Roan looked away from Blaine and got tangled up momentarily again in watching Tessa as she continued staging discussions with a smiling Father Maddy and the happy couple. He’d never been able to get more than a reluctant nod from the auld man and she’d charmed a smile from him. Roan hadn’t known the Father’s dour expression had any upward mobility. And charming? Tessa?

He looked at her and had to admit there was an infectious vibrancy to her that hadn’t been there the day of the calendar shoot. He’d seen a flash of it the day he’d wrecked his bike, but thought his imagination was in overdrive. However, there was no denying she’d reclaimed at least a little of the energy she said she’d come there looking for. Unlike their first project, she was clearly committed to this new one. Whether it was for the sake of the happy couple, he couldn’t say, but she seemed sincerely interested in what she was doing. She was confident and clear-minded about how she envisioned things, but rather than coming off dictatorial or overbearing, there was a level of confident enthusiasm radiating from her that was palpable even from where he stood. She hadn’t so much as glanced his way. He wanted to be relieved by that, but instead was feeling a bit put out at the moment.

Katie and Graham appeared openly thrilled to have her on board for their special day, and though Roan might not have been willing to admit it even as recently as a week ago, he thought they really couldn’t be luckier.

“Now, if we could get the best man and … what were you calling him again?” Tessa looked from Katie to Blaine.

“Man of honor,” Katie said, with a truly affectionate smile aimed at Blaine. She squeezed his arm and he took her hand and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. Their affection was sweetly sincere but most definitely of a familial nature. Since Blaine was obviously gay it was not surprising. Roan couldn’t fathom the two of them ever agreeing to marry in the first place, no matter the family pressure on them. But it had all worked out in the end. Well, except for Blaine. But then, he’d used the breakup to get out of the clutches of the family’s evil empire, so Roan supposed he wasn’t complaining. He didn’t have to live a big whopping lie for the rest of his life.