Scotland For Christmas Part 9

He was right, the connections and knowledge she'd built were strengths for her.

She sighed. "Honestly, I think my problem is familiarity. Malcolm is vice president of acquisitions, so he works directly with Uncle John. He's in the inner circle. Just by being there, Malcolm has already proved his loyalty to him. My positions haven't reported directly to him yet. I'd planned to work on that next, but..."

"You need face time," Hugh advised. "Remind Uncle that you're coming home soon."

Yes, she did need to build a closer relations.h.i.+p with Uncle John. And to start with, he would be arriving this afternoon. To talk at length with him, she'd have to get through his level of bodyguards and his advisor, Murphy.

She sighed. "It's not easy getting close to him, what with his security detail and his rushed schedule."

"I know you can manage it."

Because that was what she did. She succeeded. She did not fail.

Mum picked up Stewart from her lap and placed him on the floor. "So when are you coming home, dear?"

"In six more weeks."

"Lovely. Can we expect Alex home for Christmas, as well?"

Here it came. Isabel carefully pushed back her seat. She'd avoided saying so thus far, but she couldn't shun the topic any longer.

She focused on Hugh and smiled gently because he and Alex had always been friends. It was obvious that Alex hadn't said anything to her brother, or else this would have been Hugh's first topic of conversation with her. "Alex and I broke up," she said.

Hugh looked shocked.

"I know you're upset," she murmured. He'd been Alex's wee mate, after all. Alex was older than her, Hugh's age.

"Why did you let that happen?" Hugh blurted.

She gasped, stunned. But everyone just stared at her, waiting for her explanation.

Here it was, the truth about what they really expected from her. She was supposed to be a success in everything. They didn't even recognize the tension she faced between going to school in New York and maintaining a personal life in Scotland.

Hugh took one look at her distraught expression and backpedaled. "Bell, I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

"Alex is engaged to somebody else," she said quietly.

Shocked silence met her announcement.

"You also should know," she said, her voice shaking slightly, "that I'm bringing a date to the wedding. If you'll excuse me, I need to go and tell the bride and groom to expect him."

"You're bringing a date?" her mum asked. "What's his name? Can we meet him?"

Isabel turned to her. "Of course. I love you all and I will introduce you to him. But for now, I want us to be left alone. See me at the reception after the wedding. I'll introduce you to him then."

She stood, her hands shaking. The words had just blurted out of her-it was the most surprising thing she'd ever said to them, and it was the truth. Jacob was her secret weapon. His hidden presence had been a small comfort all morning.

But now her secret was public. Before she lost her nerve, she marched over to Malcolm to inform him, too.

Her cousin stood in the center of a ring of people, holding court. They had to be his soon-to-be wife's people, the Hart family, the Vermonters Isabel hadn't met yet because they hadn't been invited to the Sage family meeting.

Malcolm had a wide grin. He was relaxed and appeared utterly happy.

Isabel took in another deep, cleansing breath. She faced the man she so rarely interacted with and yet had so much influence in her life. "Malcolm, may I speak with you for a moment, please?"

"Aye," Malcolm said. Isabel noticed that Malcolm's Scottish accent had become more p.r.o.nounced since she'd last seen him.

He stepped aside, past a man in a wheelchair, three other men holding beer bottles, a short woman with dark hair and a little red-haired girl wearing a kilt.

Isabel thought of the box she'd left on the table back where her mother sat, and made a mental note to go back and fetch it when she was done.

"What is it?" Malcolm asked her.

Just then, his bride sailed over. Kristin Hart. Isabel had observed her once at work. She was an industrial engineer in their Byrne Glennie plant.

"Isabel?" Kristin Hart, soon to be Kristin MacDowall, smiled at her. "I've wanted to meet you in person for so long."

"As have I," Isabel murmured. She held out her hand to shake Kristin's, but Kristin just hugged her.

She smelled nice, like lavender and country flowers-the formulation for one of Sage's newly acquired, organically sourced shower-gel lines. Malcolm's baby, of course, since he was Sage's current vice president of acquisitions. Isabel didn't have a job t.i.tle yet.

As Isabel stood stiffly, Kristin stepped back and shyly slid her gaze to Malcolm. Rarely did a minute go by when the two of them were not in deep eye contact with one another. They were so obviously in love it was all Isabel could do not to throw up again.

She pressed her nails into her palms. She didn't want to feel angry or sorry for herself. Malcolm's happiness did not threaten her. Intellectually, she understood this. It was just her heart that was acting like a three-year-old.

"We have something to ask you," Kristin gushed. "It's...sort of a thing between us." She glanced at Malcolm and blushed. "Would you mind giving a reading for us at the ceremony? I'm sorry it's a last-minute request, but we made a mistake in the planning. I thought Malcolm had asked you, and he thought that I had, and...well, your name is already printed in the program. I'm sorry we messed up and didn't give you more warning, but we're hoping you'll say yes anyway. Please, Isabel, we would appreciate it. Malcolm says you perform so beautifully, and you're the only person we would consider asking."

Kristin glanced at Malcolm again. They were holding hands and sharing a connection that Isabel could only dream about.

But she did it because she had to. Because it was expected of her.

She politely took the small book from Kristin-Burns, it said on the spine, with a photo on the front cover of the famous eighteenth-century poet. Inside the book was a folded photocopy, presumably of the poem they wanted her to read.

Isabel kept her expression neutral as she answered, "I'm honored you thought of me. Yes, I'll read it for you."

Inside, she was screaming. She didn't feel honored, she felt misunderstood and maybe even taken for granted.

She turned to Malcolm. "When is Uncle John arriving?" The sooner she had a frank conversation with him, the better she would feel.

"He called, and he's running late," Malcolm said. "There was a problem with landing the jet at Logan airport. They were diverted to a regional airport, and Uncle doesn't expect to get here until after the reception is over, unfortunately."

"Do you think that's bad luck?" Kristin asked Malcolm.

"I think it's good luck," Malcolm said, and kissed her. "I want this celebration to be all about us. Not about him and his doings."

That was easy for Malcolm to say, with his "most favored" status. Isabel took a breath. She felt tired and drained. Sage Family Products was and would always be family-owned. Any change in officers was voted on by her family, and that was why Isabel had done her glad-handing all morning long. But if Uncle John didn't recommend her appointment, it wouldn't happen. Hugh was right-she needed every chance she could get to impress him.

Since Uncle John wouldn't be here for a while, she would go upstairs and have a rest.

"I'll see you at the ceremony," she said to the embracing couple, and then turned to leave.

"Wait, weren't you going to ask me something?" Malcolm called.

She squared her shoulders and faced him. "I'm bringing a date to the ceremony. His name is Jacob Ross."

Malcolm's eyes widened somewhat, but he said nothing.

"I'm looking forward to meeting him," Kristin said.

WHILE HER FAMILY was waiting in line for the dessert buffet, Isabel grabbed the box she'd left on the table, and with the Burns book plopped on top of it, she headed upstairs to Jacob's room.

She paused outside his door. Inside, she could hear music playing. One of the pop songs the two of them had listened to last night. She felt a smile-a real smile-cross her face and fill her heart. She tightened her grip on the box and knocked.

"Come in," Jacob called.

Pus.h.i.+ng the door open, she didn't know what to expect. She only knew that she was glad to have Jacob to talk to and be herself with. Even though it might be daft of her, it was a comforting sort of daft. A daft that would make her feel less lonely. And n.o.body would know she was in his room with him.

She walked through the sleeping area, ignoring the unmade bed and the pleasurable seeds it planted in her imagination, and instead headed through the small gla.s.s slider that led to a deck.

Jacob's veranda was over the hotel's main entrance, and from here he could see every vehicle and person who came and went. With Jacob nothing was accidental; he would have requested this room specifically.

He sat dressed in jeans and a T-s.h.i.+rt with a navy blue jacket zipped over it. He was reading a book. Beside him on a small table was the bottle of Highland whiskey that all guests had received in their room at turndown service last night.

She sat without asking. It felt a relief to relax with someone she didn't need to impress. That the weather had cooperated-balmy, sunny and nice-was a bonus.

"I didn't know you liked whiskey," she remarked.

He glanced up and smiled at her. "I didn't either."

"You don't drink alcohol?"

"Off duty, I'll have a beer. And you?"

She smirked. "I had two wee drams of whiskey downstairs."

"Liquid courage?" he asked.

"No," she admitted. "A sedative." She sank back in the wooden chair. It was surprisingly comfortable. The seat was sloped so her b.u.m was lower than her knees.

"It's called an Adirondack chair," Jacob said, reading her inquisitiveness. "Named for a region in upstate New York."

"Is it usually so warm in Vermont this time of year?"

"No." He closed his book. "This is an Indian summer. That's the old name for a day in October or November that's warm and sunny like this."

"I like it. What are you reading?"

He held out the spine. "Spy fiction. It was on the bookshelf beside my bed."

There was that word bed again. She sat back and inhaled a breath of pine needles. Vermont reminded her of home, her original home, the Highlands.

Below them, a lone police car was positioned in the entrance, blocking the property. A uniformed officer leaned in the window of a car that had stopped by. The gray car pulled out and drove away. Jacob observed the situation with interest.

"You requested this room on purpose, didn't you?" she asked.

Jacob just smiled. A few moments later he said, "What time does your uncle arrive?"

She stretched out her legs. "His plane was delayed."

"Is he still coming?"

"Yes, but very late, they expect, well after the dancing. Likely, he'll stay for an hour, then head straight back home. That's his usual schedule for family weddings."

Jacob frowned. Looking sideways at her, he said, "It would be a security nightmare if he were to stay overnight in this rural inn."

She gazed down at the local police officer and the blocked-off roadway. "I suppose so."

"Do your other cousins have bodyguards?" Jacob asked.

"No. Most of them flew in together from Scotland on the same flight. A hired bus was arranged for them. Just one driver to share between all."

He grinned. "Why are you special that you got me?"

He was teasing, and yet he wasn't. She closed her eyes, suddenly tired. Why shouldn't she be allowed to be happy?

Maybe she should just skip the wedding and have dinner with Jacob. She had done her duty already for the family. But she glanced at the Burns book in her lap and knew that she couldn't. She had promised.

Jacob noticed her mood and followed her gaze. The man missed nothing.

"The box on the table is for you," she said. "You don't have to wear it if you don't want to."

BEFORE ISABEL HAD come in, Jacob had had the clear understanding that he was in the enemy's den. She was right-he had requested this guest room on purpose. He'd been watching for John Sage's arrival.

Jacob had been rehearsing the conversation in his mind-what he would say to Sage, how he would approach him. It had felt overwhelming all of a sudden to realize that the father he'd never known had interacted with Sage, and possibly some of the others here.

Who and how, Jacob didn't yet know. But he would before he left.

He pulled the box she'd brought him onto his lap, mildly curious. Thanks to her asking him to the wedding, he would be well positioned to greet John Sage and speak with him privately.

He opened the lid, touching the soft wool of the garment inside. "You found a kilt for me."

"More than that, I found a Ross tartan. It's actually a major clan in Scotland. Have you ever visited?"

She had no idea. Very few people knew that he'd been born there. He'd thought of flying to Edinburgh many times.