London Tides: A Novel (The MacDonald Family Trilogy Book 2) Page 17

  Melvin was putting the paper into the developer tray when Grace’s phone trilled in her pocket. She pushed an earphone into her ear, then clicked the microphone button. “Grace Brennan.”

  “Am I interrupting something?”

  Ian’s voice sent a pleasant hum of energy through her. She turned away and lowered her voice, though the room’s size hardly allowed for privacy. “I’m in the darkroom with Melvin, fine-tuning a print. I was just thinking about calling you.”

  “Oh really?”

  Something about the way he uttered those two words made her flush to her toes. She cleared her throat. “I missed you.”

  “Then we’re even. How about dinner? A pint and a light supper at the Plucked Goose, maybe?”

  “Are we dining alone?”

  “With Chris and some of the other lads, probably.”

  First dinner with Chris and Sarah, now a pint with his mates. That was some sort of girlfriend initiation, even if she knew most of them from the old days. “What time?”

  “Half eight?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “See you then, love.”

  Grace clicked off and tried to wipe the smile from her face before she turned. She didn’t need Melvin to know she’d become a complete fool over a man.

  Too late. Melvin was grinning at her over the developer tray. “That him?”

  “You heard everything, didn’t you?”

  “Of course I did. Who is he? Anyone I know?”

  “Do you remember Ian MacDonald?”

  “Your ex?” His eyebrows arched into where his hairline should have been. “I liked him.”

  “You never met him!”

  “True, but I liked how you were when you were with him. Happy. You used to laugh, Grace.”

  “I laugh!”

  The dubious look he sent her said it all. Then he shrugged. “I suppose I don’t blame you. I’d be more worried if you weren’t affected by everything you’ve seen and experienced. You should have someone who gives you as much as you give everyone else. You deserve some happiness.”

  When she didn’t immediately answer, Melvin transferred the print carefully into the fixative, then said, “Stop worrying, Grace. Stop waiting for the other shoe to drop and just live for a while, will you?”

  He knew her too well. “I’ll do my best.”

  “Good. A couple more minutes, and we can take a look at this.”

  His words trailed her through the rest of the afternoon, through talk of exposures and burning and dodging. It was after six o’clock before they had gotten a print that pleased them both. Fourteen more to go, but she knew the process would be a pleasure. Melvin shared her vision, and he was always careful to guide without imposing his own expectations.

  But their discussion stayed with her through the trek home and her preparations for supper with Ian. If she stayed in London, she would have the freedom to explore whatever creative endeavors she wished. She could have a darkroom. She could experiment with other kinds of photography besides conflict.

  Maybe if she could stop focusing on the misery of the world around her, she could embrace the happiness that was in front of her.

  Chapter Twenty

  The next four weeks took on their own rhythm. Grace photographed London while Ian rowed and worked, and they met for dinner almost every night. She and Melvin made their way through the remaining prints, some of which they got on the first try, others requiring multiple days of fine-tuning and numerous reprints. All the while, James’s wedding in Scotland came nearer. And surprisingly, the idea of seeing Ian’s family again held more anticipation than fear.

  When Ian called and said he would pick Grace up at Asha’s flat at 6:00 a.m., she expected him to arrive in a cab. Instead the sleek, shiny roadster pulled up to the curb, the hood already tucked back.

  Grace straightened from her perch on the front steps. “I thought we were taking the train.”

  He climbed out and circled around to the pavement. “Change of plans. Are you disappointed?”

  “Not at all. Driving to Scotland in what might be the coolest car ever built? That’s the good kind of spontaneity.”

  “And so is this.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her into a long, lingering kiss. When he let her go, she was fairly certain she had a dumb, dreamy look on her face. He eyed her suitcase on the steps. “That’s all you’re bringing? Could you have fit enough shoes and clothes for the weekend in that?”

  She gave him a withering look.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” He lifted the suitcase and grimaced. “What’s in this? Every pair of steel-toed boots you own?”

  “That’s my camera equipment, so be careful. It’s worth as much as your car. Almost.” A wild exaggeration, but it was worth it for how gingerly he placed it in the boot.

  “Where are your clothes then?”

  “Rucksack.” She turned so he could see the sizable pack on her back.

  “You’re something else, Grace. Come on. We’ve got six hundred miles to cover in one day.”

  Grace climbed into the passenger side and placed her rucksack behind her seat. “You could have been slightly less spontaneous and decided to leave yesterday. When exactly did this idea hit you?”

  “About two hours ago.” He twisted the key in the ignition, then pulled a pair of sunglasses from his jacket pocket.

  “I changed my mind. You look like James Bond, not Superman.”

  “That I can live with.”

  Grace settled back as he pulled into light morning traffic and enjoyed the coolness of the air, even if it came with London’s signature fragrance of damp concrete and diesel fumes. Twelve hours straight in a car would have been a horror with anyone else, but she selfishly loved the idea of having Ian all to herself.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked after several minutes of silence.

  About you. Out loud she said, “I was wondering if you’d finally let me drive her.”

  He threw her an unreadable look—he really did look like James Bond in those shades—and then said, “Maybe.”

  “That’s an improvement. I’ve graduated from not a chance to maybe.” She grinned and went back to her observation of the London cityscape. By the time they were out of London proper, though, the nerves were already encroaching.

  “What do you think they’ll say when you show up with me?”

  “Jamie will probably pat me on the back and tell me it’s about time. Serena will ask me if I’m happy. And if she’s smart, Mum will keep quiet.”

  “I told you before, I don’t want to cause any problems.”

  He lifted her hand to his lips without taking his eyes off the road. “They’ll have to get used to it. But let’s not borrow trouble. If there’s one thing of which I’m absolutely certain, it’s that Andrea will adore you.”

  “The American?”

  “Yes, the American. And if Mum reconciled herself to the fact Jamie is marrying an American …”

  Grace accepted the statement, even though she knew it wasn’t the same thing. Marjorie might dislike the idea that James was marrying an American on principle, but she hated Grace in particular. Besides, from what Ian had said, Andrea was a successful, educated businesswoman who had moved to Inverness and started her own company. Grace was practically a drifter, making her living by her camera, owning only what was small enough to pack in a duffel bag and a few hard cases. In fact, the exact phrase Marjorie had used was Irish gypsy trash. Grace almost didn’t blame her for thinking she wasn’t good enough for her son. But the son thought she was good enough for him, and that was the only thing that mattered. Wasn’t it?

  As they continued west and then north, Ian sensed Grace settle in beside him, even though she shot him searching looks. Did she think he’d gone completely mad, binning their train tickets in favor of the slower and more tedious drive to Scotland? It was something he might have done in younger, rasher days, which was probably where the urge came from in the first place. Being back with Grace
felt as though it had erased those years they’d spent apart, loosened the rules and the practicality that had governed his life for a decade.

  It seemed that Grace was thinking along the same lines, because she said, “Did you ever think we’d be here together, doing something like this?”

  “Going to Jamie’s wedding in Scotland? No, I was pretty sure he’d be a permanent bachelor.” He chuckled when he remembered the lecture he’d given his brother, about how Andrea was too good for him if he were just trying to get her into bed. He’d underestimated both the change in Jamie’s values and the effect that their consultant had had on him. The fact that Jamie had found her at her sister's home in Ohio and flown halfway across the world to get her back had proved that he was serious about her. And for the first time, Ian thought he and Jamie might have something in common.

  “You know very well that’s not what I’m talking about. I mean me, giving up my life on the road. You giving up rowing to be a big-time lawyer.”

  “I’m hardly a big-time lawyer. More like a small-time solicitor who keeps up his Practising Certificate out of habit rather than any real need. Frankly, I do little other than babysit my brother’s money and shuffle paperwork. And now that I have Ms. Grey, I do very little paperwork shuffling.”

  She cocked her head, picking up what he’d left unsaid. “You told me all this is just something to do. What would you do? If you didn’t have any responsibilities to family or the business?”

  “If I could walk out of Jamie’s company and never come back?” He thought for a minute. “I don’t know. Once, I might have said I’d go back to rowing competitively, assuming I still had the ability, but I recently realized it doesn’t hold the same appeal for me.”

  “Technically you don’t have to do anything.” Grace raised an eyebrow significantly at him. “You could … I don’t know … travel. That’s the advantage of a wealthy family and a trust fund.”

  “Unfortunately I’d have a guilty conscience. Not sure I could look at myself in the mirror if I weren’t doing something. I never wanted to be one of the idle rich. None of us have.”

  “Most men don’t choose contract law for fun.”

  “I didn’t actually study contract law. My degree is in public international law. That’s part of the reason I came on with CAF when the board position opened. I already had some expertise in the area.” He glanced at her, frowning. “I never told you that?”

  “You never told me that. I assumed you were drawing up wills and trusts and the like before James stole you away. Why that speciality?”

  Ian remained silent, trying not to take the simple question as an indictment. He’d ignored that part of his life for so long, he’d almost forgotten it existed. “Maybe I had the notion that I could change the world too. You were the one who actually did.”

  Grace flinched, and he realized his blunder too late. “Grace, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  “No, I know you didn’t. I knew it would be hard to leave that behind. Some days are harder than others.”

  Not for the first time, a little kernel of doubt sprouted in Ian’s heart. “Are you sure this is what you want to do? I don’t want you to have any regrets. I don’t want you to resent me.”

  Honest surprise surfaced on her face. “I could never resent you. You have to understand, this is who I’ve been for so many years, I’m not sure who I am without the camera in my hand.” She hesitated, then added softly, “I’m not sure who I am without their pain.”

  Ian stayed quiet for a moment, letting the statement rest, afraid to breathe lest it would pull apart like tissue paper. “I wish you would let me help you with … all of this you’re carrying.”

  “You already have.” She laced her fingers with his and squeezed hard. “After I left you, I felt like I was looking for something. Some place to call home, maybe. And nothing has ever felt right. Until now. I have to believe you’re the reason for that. Is that … a lot of pressure?”

  “No. Not pressure.” He took off the sunglasses and looked away from the road long enough to let her see he meant it. “It’s a gift.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Scotland was beautiful. There had been a time in Ian’s life when the wide open spaces of green and the craggy face of the Highlands had represented a life Mum hated, and one by extension he was supposed to hate too. It had been easy enough to avoid his home country when he went away to Eton, spending term breaks at Leaf Hill or at his wealthy schoolmates’ country estates. It wasn’t so much contempt for the less refined aspects of Scotland, but that it was simply easier to do as Mum wished. He’d chosen her over his father, Jamie, and Serena. To admit he missed Skye would have been tantamount to admitting he’d made a mistake, and no one could afford for him to do that. It was only when Duncan MacDonald’s death three years ago transferred the hotel into his children’s hands that Ian realized the connection he still had with his birthplace.

  Now, as he and Grace bumped down the gravel road to the hotel, he could own up to what he’d not told Jamie. Sometimes even one who loved the city as he did felt his soul stretch in the presence of Skye’s natural beauty, as if awakened from a long slumber. Even in the dark, it was good to be back.

  “You may not recognize the place,” he said as he made the turn down to the hotel. In the last rays of twilight, the bay and the lighthouse were cast in shades of silvery blue, an ethereal landscape of light and shadow. On its edge, illuminated by pools of light from new fixtures stood the renovated MacDonald Guest House.

  “It’s lovely,” Grace said. “Changes to the facade?”

  “Several.” Ian pulled in beside a handful of cars—all wedding guests, since they’d not yet officially begun booking travelers—and put the roadster into park. He jumped out and circled to open Grace’s door. A delighted smile played on her lips as the breeze off the Sound ruffled her hair. “Come through and I’ll show you about.”

  If he’d ever been skeptical of Andrea’s expertise, he was no longer. The addition of new rooms and a kitchen off the back had been integrated seamlessly, the new masonry indistinguishable from the old 1800s stone facade. The bar addition had an attractive solid oak door and antique windows, while the sunroom on the far side was positioned to bring light into the breakfast room and restaurant. Ian could barely remember what it had looked like before.

  “Seems they’re already setting up for tomorrow,” Grace observed, crunching past him to peek at the meadow beyond, where crates of folding chairs and tables awaited deployment for the ceremony. “What a lovely site for the wedding.”

  “Andrea insisted,” came a deep voice behind them. “And if you’ve met Andrea, you know she almost always gets what she wants.”

  Ian turned to find Jamie grinning at them, his hands thrust into the pockets of his jeans. He crushed Jamie into a hug, picking him off the ground for a moment. “Last night as a bachelor. How do you feel?”

  “Fine. And anxious to get this whole event on its way.” Jamie looked past him, and his expression shifted to one of shock. “Grace?”

  “None other.”

  To Grace’s credit, she didn’t look the least bit uncomfortable as she smiled and extended her hand. “Hi, James.”

  “None of this.” Jamie hugged her almost as enthusiastically as Ian had done to him. Then he slung an arm over Grace’s shoulder like he would have done with his own sister. “So this was Ian’s big secret? I can understand being back in London, but you’re back with him? Why?”

  Considering Jamie’s words were accompanied by his usual mischievous grin, he could hardly be angry. Ian let him have his fun, then asked, “May I have my girlfriend back now?”

  Jamie lifted his arm and stepped back, hands up. “By all means. Let me show you to your rooms, and then we can go up to the house. Andrea and Serena are seeing to some last-minute details.”

  “You’ve been busy finishing the interiors before the wedding,” Ian said as Jamie led the way to the front entrance.

  “Andr
ea has. The contractors are frightened to cross her. That woman is fierce.” The way he said it made Ian think he’d enjoyed the show immensely. “Here we are. The new foyer. Your rooms are on the first floor.”

  Ian admired the newly renovated interior while Jamie paused to retrieve two room keys from the cabinet beside the desk. They followed him up the stairs to the left, where he unlocked the door to room 12. “Grace, I think you’ll enjoy this one. Best view in the house.”

  It was indeed a stunning view of the Sound, or it would be when the sun rose in the morning over the water. The restrained decor was luxurious without detracting from the natural beauty outside. Andrea and Jamie had truly outdone themselves. Grace disappeared into her room as Jamie continued down the hall.

  “Andrea insisted your guest get the best room,” Jamie murmured. “We put you in eleven next door.”

  Ian’s room was slightly smaller but equally lavish, this one overlooking the meadow where the wedding would take place the next afternoon.

  “So.” Jamie gave Ian a questioning look. “Grace. This is really happening again?”

  Something in his brother’s tone made Ian vaguely uncomfortable. “You don’t approve?”

  “Not for me to approve or disapprove. I like Grace—I always have. Suits you better than some London coed.”

  “You talked to Mum.”

  “Of course I did. You didn’t think she’d keep that to herself, did you? I heard all about your stubborn refusal to let her matchmake.”

  “Mum’s the last one I want involved in my love life.”

  “Plan on hiding Grace in a broom cupboard tomorrow, do you?”

  “No, the boot of the car.” Grace’s voice came from the hallway behind them. “You lads really need to work on your whispering.”

  Jamie swaggered forward and slung his arm around her shoulders once more. “See, this is why I have always liked you, Grace. Let’s go find Andrea. You two will get on famously, I can tell.”