I drove up and parked in their driveway. I glanced in the garage, open, but the horse was gone. Magnus wasn't home. I had gotten all dolled up: Makeup. Hair done. Cute outfit. I chose pants, because Lady Mairead struck me as someone who would be judgy about bare legs. Her own clothes looked like they had been designed centuries ago.

Emma let me in when I knocked and told me Lady Mairead was expecting me upstairs in her office. She gestured that it was to the left of the stairs. Zach called from the kitchen, “Katie, you want a coke to take up?”

“Sure.” He zipped around the counter island with a glass, an expression on his face that came across as curious and a little worried. I carried the glass up with me and knocked on the office's closed door. By this point I was thoroughly intimidated by the moment.

“Come in.”

I entered and Lady Mairead graciously told me how much it meant to her that I had come. She directed me to a comfortable stuffed chair and had me place my glass on the table.

Her clothing had changed. She was wearing a blouse, slacks, and high heels. She looked less formal but still dignified, like one of the 'blue hairs' that ran the local clubs, where the rich residents gathered to socialize, show off their gardens, and decide who would govern the Island. Even with the scars on her cheeks. She coughed, a thick hacking cough into a handkerchief. “I haena been able tae recover my health since I arrived.”

I said, “Coughs sometimes take a long time. Have they given you antibiotics?”

“Yes. The healers say my immune system is nae good, so while I remain in the New World I will likely remain ill, I must away soon.” She sat and smoothed the fabric of her pants.

I said, “Oh, you're leaving too?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Magnus hae told ye he is leaving?”

I instantly regretted saying it and racked my brain trying to remember if he ever asked me to keep it secret. But no. Plus, why should I help him? I didn't have a clue why his mother shouldn't know his plans, except for the argument I overheard. And that wasn't information for me to know.

I made a split second decision that it was okay for me to speak freely. “Yes, he told me he was going back home.”

She asked, “Why haena ye been here tae see Magnus?”

I chewed my lip. Was I getting him in trouble? Where was the line of questioning going? “He asked me not to come anymore, he didn't want to see me because he was leaving or something.”

She said, “I see.”

A clock ticked in the corner of the room. The AC hummed. The large windows overlooked the beach, the ocean, most of the whole sky, and the sea grass waving. I did love sea grass. It gave our beaches such a unique look. There was no where else in the world with beaches so white, dunes so undulating, with the white crunchy sand plus the sea shells. It was a paradise and still so unspoiled.

“I asked ye here, Mistress Sheffield, because I hae a business proposition. Tis complicated, but I trust ye will see the merits of it if ye will allow me tae explain.”

“I don't know if Magnus would want you to—”

She squinted her eyes. “You hae a great many misconceptions where Magnus is concerned. Trust me.” She coughed again.

What the heck did that mean? So I took a deep breath and told her to go ahead.

“I hae a number of problems here in the United States of the Americas. One, I daena hae adequate paperwork tae protect our fortune. Master Sheffield, your father, is holding our accounts open, but tae release our money requires proof of our birth. Also, there is a tax burden. Tis all verra complicated. I, as you know, left my home in a hurry and dinna bring my papers along. Getting them will be verra difficult. That is problem number one.”

She almost sounded like one of those Nigerian princes that emailed me every so often: I have millions of dollars, and no way to get it, please help me.

“Another problem is my son, Magnus, is a hot-headed fool. He intends tae return tae Scotland and fight my husband. His uncle, my brother, Baldie, is raising an army. His cousins will fight alongside him.” She coughed long and hard into her tissue. When she recovered, she continued, “He is greatly underestimating my husband's strength. And severely misconceived about how much he is hated. My husband intends to kill Magnus—”

I was shocked. “Aren't there laws? You could go to the police? This is murder. You're talking about murder.”

She waved my words away. “I will stop my husband from killing Magnus. I made an arrangement with Magnus's father I would protect him. And I hae gone tae great lengths tae that end. Tis why I hae brought him here tae the New World.” She looked at me for a moment. “I intend to leave him here, while I return tae Scotland tae end my husband's thirst for Magnus's blood.”

“So saving Magnus's life is why you're here? Is he what you stole?”

She leveled her gaze. “He is in great danger. There has been a large amount of intrigue and mischief tae get him here tae safety. Tae keep him alive requires a tremendous amount of strategy and fortitude.” She coughed into her handkerchief. “I hae a plan in place. Tis a delicate matter, but Magnus is in no mood for delicacies and strategies.”

She shook her head. “He is battle-planning. Drawing his broadsword, marching around here as if I canna see he is headed tae battle.” She scoffed and shook her head.

Then she raised her eyes to me expectantly.

“I'm not sure I understand how I can help?”

“Nae? You daena see the issue?”

I shook my head and remembered my cold coke with the melting ice. It would be watered down now, sadly. I took a swig, dripping condensation on my lap. Watery, without a bit of fizz.

That's why my attention wasn't completely on Lady Mairead, when it should have been. That's why, when she said what she said next, I missed it, or thought I did, because it couldn't register, so I just looked at her blankly while wiping my pants with the cocktail napkin. “Excuse me, what did you just say?”

“I want ye tae marry Magnus Campbell.”

Oh.

Crap.

What?

She appraised me for a moment. “It solves all of my problems, verra tidily, actually.”

I froze damp napkin in hand. “No, that — no... What? That's not going to — wait, Magnus doesn't want to see me — he's not going to marry me. That's not how this works. You can't ... Mothers don't ask girls to marry boys, boys ask girls to marry them. That's how it works. It's not a business arrangement, plus — what?”

She raised her brows watching me fumble and grasp for some sense in this ridiculous notion.

I finished, “So yeah, no.”

“Nae? To the business proposal ye haena heard yet? I hae only explained the reasons, nae the facts.”

“Okay fine, my answer is no, because that's not how marriage works, but if you want to tell me what the deal is first, fine.”

“Mistress Sheffied, this is exactly how marriage works. Across all time marriage is an oath before God, but tis foremost a contract between families. Whether tis mutually beneficial or nae depends upon how well the contract is argued and formed.”

“Lady Mairead, Magnus and I aren't even speaking to each other. This whole discussion is really odd. I don't know what to make of it.”

“Allow me to explain. I am proposing that ye marry Magnus Campbell, before the next full moon.”

Was she kidding—

“In exchange I would hae all our wealth transferred into your name. As the wife of Magnus Campbell, you would be part of the great and powerful Clan Campbell. Your children would carry his royal bloodline.”

“Magnus is a royal?”

“Yes, his father is a king.” She dismissed this with a hand. “But you winna worry about the accompanying danger and intrigue, because ye would remain here in the New World until a future time in which Magnus is asked to ascend his throne. You would be a very wealthy woman, and, as I said the other day, ye could forget trying tae find a man that suits ye and begin your life as a married woman. You would hae the running of the estate tae deal with, your mother has been selling me investment properties.”

My eyes were wide. “It would all be mine?”

“Technically. It would belong to Magnus Campbell and his first born son, of course. But as his wife, a citizen of the United States, and a young woman who understands economical realities, you would be the real seat of power. In the event of his death though, t'would all belong to you, outright. And your children.”

“Whoa, now there are children?”

“Tis a marriage, of course there will be children.”

“We haven't even had a date. He never even kissed me.”

She shrugged.

“I've only known him for three weeks.”

“In my family we art oft introduced tae our husbands on or just before our wedding day. It daena change the fact. Hae ye considered it might be easier? Tae be bound tae someone without so much deliberating and planning?”

“No, never, I've always wanted a very romantic wedding, to be in love.”

Lady Mairead shook her head. “Mistress Sheffield, Magnus will die. If he goes back tae Scotland, my husband will find him, and Magnus will be put tae death. I say this as if the death would be immediate, but t'would be protracted. With a great deal of pain.” She gestured toward her ugly jagged scars. “You can see by my face that he is bound tae be cruel. If my husband daena find him first, and Magnus rides into battle against him. Magnus will die. If Magnus daena lose his life on the battlefield, he will be found, and he will be murdered. This is his fate. I need ye tae save him from his fate. If you married him, you would convince him tae remain here.”

“Why would he stay here? Men leave their wives to go off to war all the time.”

“True. Tis nae a perfect impediment, but he would think first and not be so brazen. He would see and understand the limitations of his plan. You would be someone tae live for and that is often enough. His father was verra dutiful tae me, and if I told him nae tae do something he would think on it verra deliberately. I would expect ye to make a strong case and be compelling. Keeping him here would be your first priority.”

“Magnus's father must have been very different from your current husband.”

“Like night and day. But I married Lord Delapointe tae broaden my land holdings and for the protection. I may be at his mercy, but I also hae strategies.”

“So you think that if I married Magnus I would save his life, plus I would be rich? What is the downside?”

“There art downsides tae every partnership. Magnus is young, impetuous, and believes he is invincible. That might grow old in time.”

The truth was, I was so blown away by this conversation I couldn't think. My autopilot had kicked in as if music was playing and my feet were tapping, though my brain was saying, what the hell are you doing, I don't want to dance — “How would you make him marry me?”

“I would tell him tae.”

“You must have a great deal of power over him.”

“Ah, but tis nae me that holds the power.”

“Oh.” I stared at my hands considering. “Wait, are you saying I have power over him?”

“Verra much. You art a woman, ye must see how he looks at you. He speaks of ye a great deal and worries about ye. I will tell him he must marry ye tae secure our fortune. He will nae object. When I tell him he canna return to Scotland he will be verra angry, but ye can calm him. I will expect ye tae.”

“I just — none of this is what I expected. I don't know if—”

“How old are ye Mistress Sheffield?”

“I'm twenty-three.”

“Magnus is turned twenty-one. Tis time for ye both tae marry, the alliance would bind you in mutual protection and responsibility. Are you Catholic?”

“No, Episcopalian.”

“Ah good. Your priest came tae me while I was in hospital. We hae become quite close. I will discuss with your parents as well, I simply wanted to hae your agreement first.”

Her mention of my parents brought a little sense to my brain. “You don't need to discuss this with my parents, it's my decision. They don't — that's not how it works with us. When Braden asked me to marry him I was twenty-one. I said 'yes' and told my parents. They said, 'great.' I get to make my own decisions, part of being a grown woman.”

She nodded and quietly continued to sit.

“I don't know if I can say yes, I need to think about this?”

“Would it help if I sent Magnus tae speak tae ye?”

“Yes, probably, but I don't think he will — he—”

“Magnus will speak with ye by the end of the day. I daena want tae send him though, unless ye are amenable tae the idea. If you turn him away, I daena believe there is anything I can do tae keep him here. I am afraid for his life. I need ye tae understand that.”

I sat thinking this through, but how do you think through something so outlandish, so bizarre? I met Magnus just a few weeks ago — give or take a few days. We had become friends, but then he told me he didn't want to see me anymore. Now his mother was proposing to me. Had I dropped through the floor into another century? I again wondered if I might be being pranked.

She said, “I need tae know your answer, Mistress Kaitlyn.”

It made me feel a little panicky that I used up most of my deliberating time thinking about how weird it was. I really wasn't the kind of person who could make these kinds of decisions.

I usually went for romance, love, the romantic gesture. Braden had asked me to marry him during a video, live of course. He invited four other YouTubers to make guest appearances during a holiday cookie episode. They each brought a recipe and made a cookie, but what I didn't know was when they displayed their finished cookies, the first cookie had the word 'will' frosted onto it. The next was frosted with 'you' and then 'marry' and 'me' and finally Braden's cookie 'Katie.' Everyone agreed it was incredibly romantic. Our viewership numbers exploded. I threw my arms around Braden's neck and cried, “Yes!”

That worked out terribly.

How in the heck was I supposed to make this decision?

Was the opposite of myself to say no? Or yes?

I desperately wanted to talk to my grandmother. Growing up I spoke to her about any life crisis, but now she wasn't as helpful anymore. And so I had been vague about Braden. I told her he had broken up with me, but left it at that, and she didn't press. But she didn't press about much these days. I remembered one of her favorite platitudes though, “Do what makes the best story.”

A no meant living with Hayley, or my parents, trying to come up with a next plan. Living in what ifs. Wondering, “What should I do?”

Yes meant, what did it mean — God, getting married? To a stranger? Yes meant a whole lot more.

It was a terrible idea.

Though Magnus was very easy on the eyes.

And I missed him.

I was sad about him all week. Feeling sorry for myself.

What I needed to do was the opposite. Hayley had said to and normally I wouldn't listen to Hayley, but hey, do the opposite. The opposite.

And suddenly without my brain deciding to, I said, “Yes, I mean, okay. Sure, I'll marry Magnus. I mean, if he wants me to.” I literally couldn't believe those words came out of my mouth. Marry him? What the fuck, Katie. The only thing that would save my ass now, was that he wouldn't want to. Another total and complete rejection. The biggest kind. So there was that. Better pull up my big girl undies and get ready.

Lady Mairead beamed. “Ah Kaitlyn, tis excellent, thank ye.” She went to her desk, and pulled a legal pad from a desk drawer. She gestured for me to come to her desk, and with a pen in long, looping, calligraphic handwriting, wrote across and down the whole page. At the bottom she signed her name.

“Oh, you want me to sign something?”

“I told ye I am nae interested in commanding Magnus tae comply and hae ye change your mind at the last hour. I needs be assured of your agreement.” She turned the paper toward me and I read her ornate writing. “Lady Mairead Delapointe of the Clan Campbell in the lands of Argyll and the country of Scotland, and Kaitlyn Sheffield of Amelia Island, Florida of the New World, the United States of America, have entered into a marital agreement, One to bind Magnus Campbell and Kaitlyn Sheffield in matrimony, on this day, July 30, the Year of our Lord, two thousand seventeen.

I said, “Just to be clear, I'm agreeing — as long as Magnus agrees, and I need to speak to him about it — before.”

“He will see ye this evening.” She handed me her pen.

Her signature had a flourish that swooped under her name four times back and forth. Mine in comparison looked simple and immature as if I was a child, signing a contract with a queen.

I handed the pen back and pushed the paper pad away. My phone beeped. I fished it from my pocket and saw a notification of a text from Hayley: Hey girl. Michael has invited the usuals over for a cookout this evening, because Friday!!!! He won't be off until six. I have a meeting, can you pick up stuff? I'll send list.

Lady Mairead asked, “What are your plans this evening?”

I looked up. “Looks like I'll be at home, I mean, my friend Hayley's house.” I stood to go.

“Farewell, Mistress Sheffield, and thank ye again. I will see ye later in the week.”

I glanced through the window. Magnus, was riding his horse over the dunes toward the house.

“He's home.”

Lady Mairead followed my gaze. “That he is. If ye pass him please daena speak of this matter.”

“I wouldn't dream of it.” I jogged down the steps wanting to get to my car before he came across the dunes, mortified he might find out I was here.

Dread filled my stomach. The familiar feeling of embarrassment and shame that I had been carrying with me for weeks had deepened. Not only was I unlovable, but now I was conspiring. Stalking. I had agreed to marry someone against their wishes, was this a new low? What if he hated me?

She had used the word, 'command.' She would 'command him.' Is that how I wanted to get a husband?

I made it to my car without seeing him. I pulled the Prius out of the driveway to the main road, kicking up a sand cloud, and looking behind in the rearview mirror. He had ridden around the corner and was watching the tail lights of my car as I drove away.

He was in for a surprise.

I was so freaking embarrassed. Mortified.

Was I really this desperate for love and attention — an arranged marriage?

I drove halfway to the grocery store before, shaking and unable to concentrate, I pulled over in a parking lot to sit with my eyes closed trying to calm down.

Lady Mairead had made the marriage seem necessary and normal, but that was not normal. I had never met anyone who married someone who didn't like them, and—

Another text from Hayley: Beer (Lots, sounds like at least twelve of us.)

Hamburgers, buns, ketchup, mustard, nope, I have mustard. Pickles, lettuce, cheese. Also chips. Am I forgetting anything? I'll pay you back tonight. Thanks!

I wanted to say, “Girl, wait until you hear what just happened.” But it was too — too — I couldn't put it into words that she would understand. There was no way I could explain it so that she would say, hey you did great, that's an excellent decision. Well done. Glad you signed that paper. God, was that paper binding? Would I need a lawyer? I decided to pretend like it never happened.

It probably didn't anyway.

For sure, that was a hallucination. Last I remembered I was trying to decide whether to drink or exercise. That must have been a crazy jog. Or else I was very drunk. And if I drunk-hallucinated that conversation, I might have a serious drinking problem.

I called my grandma. Her phone rang and rang and rang until finally her nurse answered. “She can't come to the phone right now, she's napping.”

I told her I would call back later. Then I hung up and put my head on my steering wheel and talked to myself. “Hey Grandma, I met someone. I really like him, but — it's super complicated. I'm trying to take your advice and live the best story, but I think I might have screwed up, made a bad decision, and . . . Did you love Grandpa?”

When I raised my head my cheeks were wet.

I scrambled through my purse for a piece of paper and a pen and scrawled a note to myself. Call Grandma back.

Magnus was probably buying tickets to fly back to Scotland right now. Because he was a grown man. He didn't have to do whatever his mom told him to do. He definitely didn't need to marry a girl he didn't like.

It was kind of a green card thing though. Maybe that would be enough of a reason? A business reason? Would we get married in a courthouse? And how long would we have to stay married in order for him to get his green card?

I looked down at my phone, looking up that information meant possibly checking Braden's YouTube account, and there was no way I could handle that right now.

What if Magnus did show up tonight? I couldn't even wrap my head around the possibility. What if the man I was going to marry — without ever even kissing him — what if he showed up tonight and wanted to talk to me?

I needed a new outfit. It was almost four. I needed an outfit and the food for the party and beer, so I drove off the island to Target and headed straight for the women's clothing section. Trouble was there was a lot of red white and blue clothing, for the Fourth of July, or dresses that looked like the ones I already owned.

I bought a little sundress in blue. But I needed a new bra to wear under it. And what about panties? Gasp. Would he see my panties? Was I going all the way with the Scotsman when — I kind of needed to sit down.

I threw a bra and a pair of panties in my cart and headed to the makeup section. New mascara and an eyebrow pencil, not because I needed it, but because I was flailing. Did I need new shampoo? Hairspray? I hadn't used it since 2009. What about a new curling iron, should I curl my hair? I checked the time, I had literally been there for almost an hour. I picked out a pair of flip flops that were metallic and would look excellent with the dress and especially if I shaved my legs, but now it was looking like I might not have time — I needed to get home, quick.

I raced to the food section and grabbed hamburger patties, buns, ketchup, chips, and beer. And got in line almost to the counter and remembered ice. I begged someone to hold my place while I went to grab it and so by the time I was headed to the car I was harried and worried.

Had she said tonight? Or this afternoon? What if I missed him? What if I blew it, and did I care?

Why would I care?

I had entered a contract and what was it even, marriage? What the hell had I been thinking?

I drove back to the island and Hayley's townhouse. I frantically packed the ice into the coolers and flung beer cans onto the ice and wished I had done that in reverse. I tried to paw aside the ice and dig the beer further into the ice cubes, but I had botched the most important step to a successful party: cold, perfectly iced beer.

I checked my phone. It was after five. Should I shower — what if someone arrived? Anyone, like someone else. Michael was coming first right? I was having trouble thinking and remembering Hayley's instructions. I left Michael a note:

Hey! In the shower, make yourself at home. Beer in the cooler.

Xox, Katie.

I hurried up the stairs to shower, shave, beautify, tearing tags off clothes as I went.