Page 123 of Some Like It Scot
And then he goes and looks at me the way he does while adding “lass” in his excellent, deep-voiced accent!
How was I supposed to let go of this... of him, tomorrow? How could my life take a full 360 from travel writer with no roots to Scotland-has-my-heart-and-future-forever? Well, not Scotland. Graeme.
And Lachlan.
And Mirren.
But my love for them all blended in with moody lochs and heather-cloaked hillsides and faery stories and rainy days. They seemed to complete the jigsaw puzzle of my heart, and I just wasn’t sure if all the pieces would end up coming together in the end.
Not when I had to leave so soon.
Graeme drew me into a waltz as a stringed quartet played from a balcony above the room. Mrs. Lennox had outdone herself. And even with all her fumbles and mistakes, her Edwardian Experience deserved a raving review from this travel writer. In fact, after taming her prejudice about working with the locals and hiring a few for the house, she’d even begun to endear herself a little to the community.
“I’m sorry about Allison.” Graeme’s voice pulled my attention away from the room and to his familiar eyes. “I didnae ken she was here.”
“Well, she’s an excellent designer.” I dipped my chin toward my dress, not sure how to turn the conversation. “I’ve never worn anything as elegant as this before, and I refuse to drink anything for fear of spillage.”
“Katie.” The way he said my name held some sort of homing ability to eliminate words from my head. “You’re beautiful already, all the way through.”
All the way through? No one had ever said that to me. Or looked at me the way he did. My breath hitched in my throat, and I lowered my gaze, his tenderness too much. Too tempting to fall into without any certainty. And that’s what I wanted from him. An assurance that he was as committed to figuring out how to make this relationship between us work as I was.
I was already reordering my future. And the realization shocked through me with a few amazing tingles in its wake.
I loved him.
I loved Graeme MacKerrow.
And it wasn’t just because of the kilt.
Though that helped a whole lot.
Or the shoulders.
Which were incredibly easy on the eyes, with or without the shirt.
But my heart knew. With him was where my heart belonged.
“Are... are you okay?” My brain had been reeling with plans since last night. “With her... and you?”
Excellent command of the English language there, Katie.
“She came to seek closure, I believe.” He searched my eyes. “And I needed it too, because it’s sometimes difficult to move forward when you have loose strings from the past.”
“Move forward?” That sounded good.
“Aye.” His grin crooked, and my heart stumbled even more thoroughly than my feet.
“Miss Campbell.” Mrs. Lennox stepped up beside us, pausing our dance. “May I steal you away for a little while for an interview? Your boss informed me this afternoon that you were the winner of the Vision Award, and a few reporters are here for the ball and would like to interview you.”
I looked over at Graeme, who only nodded.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
But “as soon as I can” turned out to be much longer than I’d hoped. Graeme and I got in another dance, then a conversation at one of the nearby tables, before we were pulled away to help teach some of the English guests how to perform the Gay Gordons.
And then an American reporter wanted to interview him about his regalia.
When we finally found time alone again together, the night had waned into early morning, and I knew my time was running short. We started another waltz in the hope that dancing would deter anyone else from interrupting us.
