"Students, I would like to once again take a moment to welcome you, the Class of 2001 to the Wharton School of Business! As the dean mentioned this morning, this was the most competitive batch of applicants our school has ever seen; you should be very proud of your accomplishment in being accepted and joining the ranks of the some of the smartest minds this country has ever seen."

Several members of the faculty who were seated in the front row of the auditorium began to clap, legions of students quickly following their lead. Isabella looked around, feeling out of place on the basis that she was not nearly as excited as everyone else seemed to be. Nevertheless, she applauded for the corporate sponsor of Wharton's "College Day."

"With that being said, Goldman Sachs is pleased to have brought with us a team of analysts today," she said, gesturing to the two dozen or so people who stood in a line near her, all wearing impeccably tailored suits. "Besides being some of the smartest people in the industry, they are all Wharton graduates who joined us at Goldman Sachs after graduation."

Another round of applause that Isabella hesitantly joined in.

What had she gotten herself into?

Besides the fact that Wharton had given her a full ride scholarship, the University of Pennsylvania had been the only school she had considered, wanting to stay within driving distance to her grandparents.

Since high school had not provided her a clear direction of what she wanted to do, despite the fact that she had been actively paying attention for a calling to hit her. She had hoped human biology would kindle a dream of being a doctor, but the class had been horribly boring. Without a clear path to follow, she did not have a good argument for her father when he insisted that Wharton was as good of place as any to help her find what she wanted to do to.

Looking around the room, she realized she was likely the most reluctant to be in the room.

"We are a Wharton family at Goldman Sachs," the woman continued with a polished smile. "I met my husband here. Wharton students make the best analysts and that is why we recruit heavily here. Truly, you are all so smart! We could not think of any brighter minds to spend this time with."

Recruiting? She hadn't even had her first day of classes.

"At this time, we are going to break into groups. Each of our analysts has been assigned a table with a number on it. Your nametags have corresponding numbers. Please be prompt in finding your assigned table. Enjoy your conversations and welcome to Wharton!"

Though Isabella had no idea what they were supposed to be conversing about, she moved swiftly to find the table in the atrium with the number 4 boldly displayed next to the Goldman Sachs logo.

The analyst at her table was a white male who looked like 14 of the other analysts. His suit was a deep navy and his hair was immaculately gelled.

His ensemble must have cost thousands of dollars.

Isabella pulled the cardigan that her grandmother bought her from the clearance section at Macy's a little tighter around her arms, feeling underdressed and wishing the cotton would form an armor against her insecurities.

The analyst who quickly introduced himself as Kevin to her and the six other students at the table was friendly enough. He told them what year he had graduated from Wharton with honors in finance and excused his jetlag. He had just gotten back from Goldman Sach's Hong Kong location.

Isabella was familiar with that flight route, knowing that her father had flown it often.

After telling them about his time at Wharton and how he thought they were the best years of his life until he started working on Wall Street and everything just kept getting better and better, he asked them to tell him their names and what they were thinking about majoring in.

Two boys introduced themselves, exuding confidence as they talked about the Wall Street pedigree they were coming from, explaining where their parents worked. Isabella stared blankly as they spoke, feeling her heart bounding unreasonably in her chest.

"And what about you?" Kevin asked, looking at Isabella.

"My name is Isabella Swan," she answered and then quickly said, "and I'm thinking about studying marketing."

Kevin's smile turned into a full smirk.

"So you are Charles Swan's daughter!"

Isabella smiled nervously.

"And here I am getting my hands on your first," he laughed with delight.

Isabella tugged at the sleeves of her cardigan but smiled politely.

"Don't do marketing," he told her seriously. "There are no jobs in it and it's a waste of a Wharton degree. You're smart enough to make it on Wall Street, don't waste your talents anywhere else."

Isabella felt the knitted material start to fray under her fingers pulling sharply at the cardigan.

"You are the catch of this recruiting class, did you know that? Your father has mentioned that you might not be interested in studying finance…told the whole company that anyone who could change your mind and get you to join the family business would be heavily rewarded," he told her with a laugh, pulling a card out of his suit pocket.

"Hang onto this, Swan," he said, handing her the business card. "We'll get you on Wall Street whether you like it or not."

"Edward, have ye gone mad?"

Isabella watched warily as Edward's female, albeit younger, twin hollered at him in the empty inn.

"Alice, stop-" he said firmly.

"Marrying a women ye've never even met? Tomorrow?" she barked a laugh. "Yer bum's oot the windae!"

At her confused look, Carlisle leaned over and muttered a translation. "That means he's talking rubbish."

She offered him an unconvincing smile. "Thank you."

"Alice, I'm no daft," he replied sharply.

"Ye ken that do ye?" she asked sarcastically. "Ye absolute bawbag!"

"They have thicker accents than you do," Isabella commented under her breath as the siblings went back and forth to each other.

"Aye," Carlisle agreed. "They grew up in Glasgow. Learned Glaswegian as weans. From their maw."

"Which is distinctly more difficult to understand," she muttered.

Carlisle grinned. "Ah, ye can only really hear it when they're emotional," he then added conspiringly, "or drunk."

"I suppose now would qualify."

"Aye," Carlisle agreed as Alice gave a huge huff before suddenly turning to Isabella.

She must have been only a few years younger than her brother, but they looked strikingly similar. They had straight noses, almond shaped blue eyes, and strong jaw lines. While Edward's hair was more of a chestnut color with hints of auburn, her hair was a bright ginger. She had curls while his was straight, but they really did look very similar.

"I am sorry for that," she apologized, "But it is no every day mae favorite brother announces his marriage to a stranger with less than 24 hours' notice."

Again, Isabella gave an unconvincing smile. "Understandable, of course."

"Just why are ye willing to do this?"

"Alice," Esme chastised.

"It's a fair question!" she defended. "I ken ye have money, but why go this far?"

For a moment, Isabella was at a loss. She couldn't explain the instinct that she felt to protect the distillery, to protect Sleat Scotch. She couldn't explain it because truthfully, she did not completely understand it herself.

But she felt it.

And it was the first time she had felt something so strong in a long time.

She could not let go.

Not this time.

"It's a wonderful business opportunity," Isabella replied honestly. "Albeit unorthodox."

"But to marry him?" she pressed.

"Alice-"

"Do you have a different suggestion that will allow me to get Sleat that money?" Isabella asked crisply, "if I had arrived on Monday or even last month, perhaps we would have a chance to do this properly but since it's Friday going through the government will not work. I have wracked my brain, and given the Scottish rules and regulations that I am familiar with, and the timeline we are working with, I have come up with nothing beyond this deal, and as I said, I realize it is an unorthodox way of doing business. However, if you have a different idea, please speak up."

Now it was Alice's turn to be at a loss.

Everyone in the room was silent before Alice finally cracked a reluctant grin.

"I better call Emmett and tell him to get his bum up from Glasgow," she said with an eye roll. "He'll want to be there for his only brother's first wedding I imagine."

So, it was more than just the two MacDonald siblings.

She vaguely wondered if the latest edition would be just as difficult to understand.

They were at the Isles Inn, the establishment owned by Esme in Portree, a few miles away from the distillery. It was a cozy place, with the main floor being a mix between restaurant and bar. There were rooms for rent upstairs, which she assured her were full at the height of tourist season in the summer, but less so with the colder November weather.

It was an odd time of day, not quite dinner, but nearly dark outside, and as such, no one was in the building expect one of Esme's employees who was presently making them an early dinner. They settled down at one of the low wooden tables in front of the roaring fire. Above the fire place was a brass mirror and two framed portraits.

"Charles Stewart," Edward informed her casually, seeing her eyes linger on it.

"The Bonnie Prince," she agreed dryly.

That caused him to raise an eyebrow at her. "Aye," he agreed, clearly not expecting her Scottish history knowledge.

"And that is…?"

"Fiona MacDonald," he told her.

"Ah," Isabella said with her lips curling slight upward. "Relative of yours?"

He smirked. "Distantly."

"Alright," Esme said, calling the meeting of sorts to order. Jasper, her tour guide and apparently Esme and Carlisle's son, joined them at the table. "The details. Before we go any further, Bella, I do apologize but I must ask…you are certain you will be able to go into a bank when it opens on Monday and get a check for over…what $200,000 by my guess in American dollars?"

"The bloody finance bastards will no make it easy on you," Jasper commented in a growl. "Wankers."

"Jasper," Esme said softly, addressing her son.

"It's true!" he argued bitterly. "They'd rather see ye lose everything ye own and take it for themselves and sell off the wee pieces. They don't want people like us to make any money."

Carlisle muttered something in agreement to the sentiment. Edward nodded in a reluctant concurrence.

"There is a Barclays branch somewhere in Scotland?" she asked, addressing Esme.

"Aye, in Glasgow," Edward answered. "I used to walk by it on my way to school."

"I will need to go there and request them to write a check. Yes, I do have those funds in that account which will allow me to access them internationally."

It was clear each of them was curious why a relatively young woman such as herself would have access to such a large sum of money, especially in the midst of a global recession.

Curious and suspicious.

But she could see each of them was mustering politeness and would not pry further.

"Don't ye want to see our books?" Jasper finally asked. "What if Sleat is a bloody terrible investment?"

"Ye numpty," Edward muttered in a growl.

"What?" he asked. "If she's going to give you that much money, I bet she's going to want it back eventually. How's she to know if that's a possibility?"

All eyes were once again on hers.

She opened her mouth, but Esme's staff, also named Fiona, appeared with several plates of food in her hands and began to set them down in front of them. Isabella's lunch had consistent of a granola bar while driving and her stomach rumbled at the smell of the food. It was fish and chips, and it looks greasy and delicious.

"I have some experience in business," she said vaguely while they were somewhat distracted with putting vinegar on their chips. "I will look at the books as soon as RBS gets the check and we can make a plan from there."

"Ye want to be his business partner then?" Carlisle finally asked. "Truly?"

"For the time being, yes."

Beside her, Edward was intently studying his dinner.

"Don't ye have a job in America?" Carlisle asked curiously. "How long can ye even stay in Scotland?"

At that, Isabella bit her lip and hesitated.

"I have some flexibility," she finally answered.

Esme was the one who was the most willing to accept this answer.

"And you are sure the papers went through with Scott?" she asked, turning her attention to her husband with a worried gaze.

Carlisle scratched at his beard thoughtfully. "Aye, it went fine."

"Fine as it could be asking someone to commit forgery?" Jasper teased.

Isabella heard a swift thud, followed by Jasper's prompt, "Feck!"

"It's no forgery," Carlisle said, glaring at his son while the latter rubbed at his bruised calf. "It's…expedited paperwork."

Esme noticed Isabella's raised eyebrows at the exchange and told her, "Marriages in the whole of the UK are subject to submitting your intent to marry and in Scotland 21 days is required," she explained. "And it's a law, not a suggestion."

Though she kept her face neutral, internally she winced. She knew British laws regarding the financial industry but wasn't as up to date on the rules regarding matrimony.

"I have known Scott since we were weans," Carlisle explained. "He's always been a good friend to yer da and I," he said, nodding at Edward.

For his part, Edward said nothing about their precarious flirtation with the law. He was staring intently up at one Fiona MacDonald. She couldn't begin to guess what he was thinking.

"Expedited paperwork. Aye, got it."

This time it was Esme who thumped her son in the back of the head.

"Well, Emmett is coming but no without a few questions," Alice informed them, coming back into the room and sitting down. "Said he'd bring the pipes with him to make it a proper Scottish wedding. Well proper enough, given the wee fact that no one's got any money to pay for it."

An uncomfortable silence fell heavily around the group, Carlisle blowing out a long sigh and meeting his wife's stare. When no one replied to Alice, she added, "It has to be convincing, does it no?"

"If we don't want anyone in jail, right Da?" Jasper said with a laugh, jumping at the chance to move the conversation forward. He had heard his father's latest readings on the UK cracking down on illegitimate marriages to bring international brides into the country and was hardly hiding his entertainment.

Edward remained silent at the prospect of doing time in jail.

Isabella eyed Edward's cousin critically.

At least someone was finding this situation entertaining.

The more they spoke, the more Isabella realized they were playing with fire in the form of Scottish law. If she was being honest, she should have just walked out of the pub, got into her rental car, and headed on her way.

Esme, still looking tight lipped at Alice's comment about the lack of funds, replied, "We will figure something out."

"Awright," Carlisle said gruffly, "Enough of ye." He shot his son a sharp glance. "Let's get on with it."

"He's right," Esme said, and then looked over at Alice. "We have some phone calls to make, love."

Truth be told, the rest of the evening passed in a bit of a blur, with Isabella mostly wondering what the absolute hell had been going through her mind. As Esme and Alice called all of the inhabitants on the Isle of Skye and sent Edward, Jasper, and Carlisle on errands to and fro, Isabella contemplated that she really should muster up an ounce of sanity and stop the madness and get into the damn rental car.

But she couldn't.

It had nothing to do with Edward, she thought to herself as he spoke with Esme and Fiona about transforming the inn into a reception space. He was a handsome enough young man, but that was an afterthought, not the reason driving her decision. He seemed to be level headed enough and other than his first initial outburst, he appeared as determined as her to do this to save his business and his family legacy.

By the time the group had regrouped at the inn –which had a fair number of patrons now eating and drinking – most of the details had managed to be worked out. They had spoken with the minister of the Church of England, found a pianist, ordered plenty of food to be served, confirmed with Scott that the papers would hold up, gone to the distillery to stock of up on Scotch for their guests, and then actually invited guests.

Esme and Alice were natural born story tellers and managed to weave a beautiful story about a young couple, mad for each other who could not wait another day to be married, having made it their 21 days. Even to Isabella, the love-struck protagonist of the story, it sounded convincing. Alice's rendition got even more dramatic and theatrical as she finished her third cider of the evening.

Isabella met two more of Edward's cousins who worked at the distillery, Robert and Ian. They were boisterous but she found herself hesitantly smiling at their loudness as they teased Edward about a wedding.

"Springin' it on us so we cannae give ye a proper stag party?" Robert accused. Edward grinned and threw an elbow towards his ribs. "Denying yer kin their birthright?"

"It may not be proper but we are gettin' plastered tonight!" Ian followed, raising the pint of beer he had found moments after walking through the door.

Esme cleared her throat.

"Once he's done with the preparations of course, Auntie," Ian demurred.

Esme rolled her eyes.

"We are nearly finished with you for the evening. Edward, you have your formal wear here yes? It's not in Glasgow or anywhere else?"

Edward nodded.

"Wait," Alice interrupted before Esme could continue. "What is she going to wear?"

Esme's mouth popped open in disbelief that she had overlooked that detail. "Bollocks," she muttered. "You're right, Alice. Do you have anything formal, love?" she asked Isabella. "Don't suppose you do."

"No, I'm sorry," Isabella said apologetically.

"I don't know if there's time to get to a bridal shop and back tomorrow morning." Esme frowned. "Perhaps I can ask Mrs. Brown if we could use her daughter's wedding dress? The girl left him at the alter but I imagine she still has the dress?"

"It won't be her size," Alice argued, looking at Isabella's frame. "Brown is barely 5 feet tall."

"Perhaps if we hem-"

"What about Maw's dress?"

All of the women looked over at Edward, who had been following along the conversation with an intense stare. At their attention, he looked at his aunt. "Maw always said it was timeless, did she no?"

"Aye," Alice agreed quietly. "But…"

"It would fit her," Edward said firmly.

Isabella wanted to protest, to say that it was fine and she did not have to wear their mother's wedding dress, especially when it was clear that their mother was no longer around. But at Edward's intent stare, she stayed quiet.

"Yes, it would." Esme finally agreed. "Your mum was right. It is still a very beautiful dress."

"I'll get it from storage," Alice said quietly. "It will probably need a wee bit of hemming."

Edward pulled his sister into a warm, one armed hug and whispered something against her lovely hair. She looked up at him with a fond smile that he returned. Isabella felt like an unwelcomed observer and immediately lowered her eyes from the touching moment.

"Thank you, love," Esme said softly.

"That sounds like this party is ready to move into a stag party!" Robert cheered, seeing they had reached a conclusion. There were several hollers of agreement from his other cousins and some clapping from Carlisle. Edward broke into a shy smile as they shook his shoulders.

"Aye, awright awright okay," he assented. "Let me say goodnight to…to my bride before we go."

General masculine cheers followed that statement. It seemed that they were either trying to make it as convincing of a farce as possible or the Scots loved a good celebration and they were taking every advantage to make it a proper wedding.

Isabella raised an eyebrow but took his hand when he held it out to her and led her out of the main bar area and down a separate hallway. He dropped her hand and turned to her.

"Are ye sure about this?" he asked without ceremony. "Truly?"

It was easier to be sure about something when you weren't constantly being asked if you were sure, she noted.

"I am very much considering this an unconventional business transaction," she informed him.

When he didn't look convinced, she sighed and asked, "Are you a criminal? Or a horrible person? Do you have any horrendous traits that I should know about? Not actually planning to save the distillery but do you intend to let it fall into ruins?"

His lips quirked into a smirk finally. "No, no horrendous per say and no ruins I hope. I just dinnae want to force ye into something," he said seriously before adding, "especially something as…as bizarre as this."

Isabella shook her head. If anything, it was her who was forcing him into an arranged marriage for show, for the sole purpose of skirting around government regulation.

"I cannot think of another way to keep the distillery open."

"Aye," he agreed quietly, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked down at the worn floor boards. "And ye do know that I will do everything I can to get ye the money back someday, but with the economy the way it is now, well…I am sorry that I cannae make any promises to ye. I dinnae ken about your financial status, but that's no wee bit of money and I want ye to be sure about what yer doing and know the risks."

"It's a risk I'm willing to take."

"Aye," he said again, dropping his hand from his neck and looking at her. "I dinnae think I would like if Alice went to a different country and married a stranger."

"Lucky for you, I have no older brother you have to answer to."

"Aye," he said absentmindedly before asking suddenly. "Have ye ever been in love?"

That startled Isabella it but she did not let her face show it.

"Have you?" she asked, a hint of challenge in her voice.

Edward eyed her. "Fair enough," he said, giving nothing away.

"While this marriage isn't going to be built on love, I do respect you and respect your dedication to keeping the distillery open," she said.

At that, he nodded in agreement. "And while I don't understand yer own reasoning, I do respect yer bravery. And respect is no a bad thing to start a marriage on, aye?"

At that Isabella's own lips turned upwards slightly. "Aye."

next, we've caught up with the prologue and moved on to the wedding reception.

life is a wee bit hectic at the moment and I am still healing from a concussion that I ended up with a few months ago but rest assured, this tale will not be abandoned and will be a lot of fun.

all my love.