“I’m not here to talk about the land,” I say. “Or to unleash livestock in your distillery.”
“I figured,” he replies, watching me carefully. “Martha said it was urgent. And personal.”
I take a breath.
“I need your help, Alistair.”
His eyebrows lift—just slightly. Maybe because I used his first name. Maybe because of what I said.
“I did something… impulsive,” I continue. “Something that involves you.”
And then I tell him everything.
Maggie. The endless suitors. Robert the human nightmare. And my brilliant—catastrophic—lie about being engaged to him.
His expression shifts from surprise… to disbelief… to unmistakable amusement.
“Let me get this straight,” he says when I’m done. “You told your family—your grandmother, who once called my grandfather a soulless capitalist vulture—that you and I are engaged?”
I wince. “That’s… a fairly accurate summary.”
“And now you want me to pretend to be your fiancé to save you from Maggie McGregor’s matchmaking?”
“Yes.”
“Me. A McKenzie.”
I sigh. “You were not my first choice. But that’s exactly why it works. It’s so absurd no one will question it.”
I pause, then add quietly, “It’s the perfect shock to buy peace.”
He stands and walks to the window, looking out over the hills.
I hold my breath.
He’s going to laugh. Mock me. Tell this story for the next fifty years?—
“This is probably the most ridiculous proposal I’ve ever heard,” he says.
My chest tightens.
“I’m in.”
“…What?”
I blink at him.
“I said I’m in,” he repeats, turning back. “I could use some stability in my public image right now.”
He explains quickly—nervous investors after a messy breakup, a board concerned about his reputation, a father obsessed with appearances.
“So,” I say slowly, “you play my fiancé, and I get my grandmother off my back. In return, you get a respectable image to reassure your investors?”
“That’s the idea. But I have conditions.”
Of course he does.
“I’m listening.”
