Lion of Caledonia: International Billionaires VII: The Scots (16 page)

With a puff of irritation, he closed his eyes, the golden tips of his lashes falling to his cheeks.

“If you were Robbie, what would you want?”

His big shoulders hunched and one paw shot out to grab her waist. “I’d want ye to kiss me.”

“I already did kiss him. Don’t try to change the subject.”

“What’s the subject?” He grunted. “I’ve lost track.”

“Da.”

The timid voice, so unlike the child’s naturally rambunctious tone, made his father flinch.

“Da.”

“What, Rob?” Cam kept his head down, curled into her own, hiding from his son.

“Can ye come here?”

A rush of breath brushed her ear.

“Please?”

She didn’t say anything. She merely stood by him, waiting for him to do the right thing. The thing that scared him.

He pulled away, his usually animated face a blank mask, his eyes dark and hooded. Dropping his hands from her, he turned to confront the challenge of his son. “What do ye want?”

“I told ye.” The boy waved at him. “Come here, I said.”

“I don’t know when I started to be ordered around by ye.” Still, he went. Not with his familiar feline grace, but with a hesitant, lumbering step.

“Sit down on my bed.”

The flash of a reluctant grin crossed is father’s face. “You’re a demanding dobber.”

“Don’t call me names. It’s not nice.”

“Whoever said I was nice?” He finally sat on the edge of the bed, a cautious movement so unlike his usual confident sprawl. “Now, what do ye want?”

“I want ye to say good night to me.”

“Good night.”

“Da.” The child’s voice turned cross. “Not like that. Like Jen did just now.”

“This from a boy who should be getting a spanking.” Cam leaned forward, a sudden flare of fury lighting his expression. “You’ve gone and lost my favorite boat.”

Robbie pulled back, his hands clutching the quilt, a look of regret crossing his face. “I’m sorry, Da.”

His father paused before pulling back himself, his own regret clear. “I shouldn’t be yelling at ye. Like Jenny said, there’s time enough for that tomorrow.”

“I’d rather ye not yell at me tomorrow, either.”

A dry chuckle came from his father’s throat. “I bet ye wouldn’t. There are always consequences to your actions, though.”

A taut silence fell.

Jen thought about intervening, but decided instead to let them muck it out together.

“I lost some of my favorite things too,” Robbie offered.

Cam’s mouth twisted before he swung back to stare at his son. “Ye did, didn’t ye? I guess we both lost something tonight.”

A small hand crept across the quilt until it lay on a much larger one.

The man closed his eyes tight, anguished torture on his features.

What could have happened between these two to bring so much pain? Or was the source much deeper and wider than she’d known?

“Rob.” The rich voice rolled in its familiar pattern and yet, there was a dusty, sad edge to the tone. “I can’t be what ye want me to be.”

She wrapped her arms around her, trying to keep in the disappointment. This was their journey, their relationship. In a few short days, she’d be
persona non grata
here, and neither of these two males would want her advice. And she wouldn’t be here to soothe or become a buffer between them either.

This wasn’t her family.

This wasn’t her fight.

The small hand slipped off the big one. “But I get to stay here, right, Da?”

“I gave ye my word.” He stood with a hard jerk. “I’ll keep it.”

“Okay.” The tentativeness of the boy’s response brought an ache to her throat.

“Time for ye to sleep.” Prowling to the doorway, Cam flickered off the overhead light. “Jenny. Time to go.”

“You’ll remember, Robbie.” She walked to the bed and stared at the shadowed face. “If you get lonely tonight, you’ll remember what I told you?”

“Yes.” He rolled over in the bed, pulling the covers up. “I’ll remember.”

His father closed the bedroom door behind them and stood in the hall, staring at her with a critical gaze. “What did ye tell him about being lonely?”

Jen crossed her arms in front of her again, this time in defense. “I only told him if he ever woke up and was lonely, he shouldn’t cry himself to sleep alone.”

“No? A boy shouldn’t learn how to keep to himself at night?” His cheeks heated with indignation. “What should a boy do instead?”

What kind of upbringing had this man received? Had he lain in bed all alone, crying for parents who had never come? She’d spent her time crying as a child. After her mother and father had died, she’d spent many nights wishing for them back. Yet she’d never felt as if she had to stay in her bed suffering. Her grandfather hadn’t minded her nocturnal visits with him in his library—the fire roaring, his deep voice putting her to sleep as he read one of her favorite stories.

Jen’s outrage for Cam bloomed into anger at him. “I told him he should find someone he could talk to and perhaps she’d make him some tea and cuddle with him in bed.”

The air between them immediately sparked with fire. Not the fire of anger any longer, but with something far more wicked.

The gold of his eyes blurred into the warmth of the brown. “Cuddle, did ye say?”

A flush of embarrassment rose inside. “I didn’t mean—”

“So you’re saying if a man were a bit lonely at night, he should—”

“Damn you.” She stomped past him. “I’m going to bed.”

He grabbed her before she could escape. “He should come to ye and ye would make him some tea and give him a cuddle?”

Trying to tug out of his heated grasp, she threw him an exasperated glare. “I said that to a small boy. Not a grown man.”

“Och, Jenny.” He smiled, his familiar jaunty grin, and yet, something about it was off. “You’re disappointing me.”

“It’s been a long day.” She tugged again with no success. “I need to go to bed.”

“Bed.” His sonorous voice, so dreamy and gilded, so alluring, rolled around and over the word.

“Stop it.” She should be saying that to herself, to her body. Because despite her annoyance, heat rose inside. A sexual, seductive heat. “I mean it, Cameron.”

“You’re getting all English frosty on me.” He teased, his odd eyes glowing. And yet again, she felt something was off. Something wrong and hurt, an ache in his words. “I love when ye get this way.”

“Cam.” She turned into his arms and she knew by the jolt that ran through his body, she’d surprised him. “What is it?”

“It?” His expression went blank, then turned nasty. In typical fashion, he used a flippant tease as camouflage. “Here we go again with the
its
.”

There was no reaching him. She knew by the look in his eyes and the tight line of his mouth. At least, there was no way of reaching him by words.

Her want, her secret, wretched, wonderful desire wheedled into her thoughts.

“Your face, Jenny.” Sighing, he closed his eyes. “I can see everything ye want.”

And he closed his eyes to her want. That told her everything she needed to know.

She yanked herself from his arms.

His eyes popped open, the gold glittering. “Where do ye think you’re going?”

“To bed.” She marched down the hallway. “Alone, clearly.”

A sharp silence fell behind her.

But just as she got to the stairway, he moved. Before she could take it in, he surrounded her with his heat and touch. His big hands encircled her waist from behind. His chest pressed to her back. His rough breath brushed her ear. “Was that an invitation?”

“Not anymore.” She tried to pull away, but he held her easily in his grasp and she flushed with embarrassment at knowing he’d been right. He saw right into the heart of her desire.

Twirling her around, he stared at her. “Ye can’t hide from me.”

“I’m not the one hiding,” she threw at him.

He stilled and gave her a twist of a smile. “A perceptive lass.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” She stopped her struggle and met his wary gaze with one of her own. “I only want to help.”

Not true, Jennet, not true at all. You’re here to steal from this man, not help him.

Some of her turmoil must have crossed her face because he came closer, an expression of concern in his gaze. “I know ye don’t mean me harm. Ye don’t have to worry about that.”

She’d worry. For the rest of her life, she’d worry about Cameron and Robbie and how they were getting along. She’d worry about what her betrayal had done to their level of trust. She’d worry.

“It’s not ye.” His tawny brows frowned. “Like I said before, it’s me.”

She saw desire in those odd eyes of his. She saw the need and want that flooded her own blood with a sweet song. She saw beneath his words to the core of him. “I don’t want anything more from you, other than yourself.”

A tortured look flickered across his face. “I’m not what ye need. I can’t be what ye want.”

“What do you think I want?”

“Ye want a man who’ll be true to ye.” His statement shot out with solid belief. “Ye want a man who won’t get restless on ye and take off.”

Is that who she wanted?

Jen eased back in his arms and stared at him. In her girlish dreams, she’d imagined a man. A man who loved her like her father had loved her mother. Not for her money or her connections or her looks, but for her heart. During the last few years, she supposed she’d kept looking for that man and had never found him.

She’d found him now.

He stood right in front of her.

“By your silence, you’re telling me ye know what I’m saying is true.” His gaze went serious. “If we do this tonight, this sex we both want, then eventually, I’ll disappoint ye.”

No, she would disappoint him.

His hand cupped her chin. “I’d do almost anything to have ye in my bed. I have to be honest, though, about what will come next.”

“Go ahead.” She swallowed the clutch in her throat. “What would come next?”

He dropped his hand, a sad slant on his mouth. “I’d leave. I’d do something stupid. I’d take off on a wild ride somewhere. And you’d be left behind to pick up the pieces.”

She saw underneath his words again. She saw the echo of accusations and demands. From his wife? His parents? Whoever had yelled the words at him, they’d pierced him forever.

Everything inside her settled into one reality. She wanted him and he wanted her. Neither of them could promise the future. Both of them would disappoint each other. And yet, they could have tonight. They could have now.

“Cam.” Lifting her hands, she slipped them into his soft hair. “I don’t want forever. I want now.”

“
N
ow
?” Cam’s brain froze. “Only now?”

“Come on.” Jenny grabbed his hand and pulled him up the stairs.

She was telling him the truth. His lass wasn’t a good liar, and he could tell she believed the claim she’d given him. His body roared its delight and urged him to take what was offered, what he’d so desperately wanted for weeks.

Yet his conscience rebelled. This was Jenny, and he’d come to know her well. Jenny wasn’t a wild girl, a woman who lived for the moment and damn the consequences. Jenny liked safety and stability. She’d want, hell, she deserved a man who’d give her that and more.

And he couldn’t.

“Cam.” She turned on the step to glare at him. “I mean it. I won’t demand more than you can give. I want tonight, and if that’s all there is, it’s okay with me.”

The issue was—it wasn’t okay with him. Even though he knew he couldn’t do it, he yearned to promise her everything. He wanted to give her his heart and his hand along with his body.

“I can’t believe your stubbornness.” She jerked on his hand again. “It’s a free offer. No strings attached.”

She meant it. He could see it in her misty gaze. The realization made him intensely angry. At her for asking for so little and at him for having so little to give. “Ye shouldn’t want this.”

“Don’t tell me what I should want or not want.” Her own stubbornness flashed in her eyes and her chin shot forward. “I know what I want.”

“Do ye?” He fiddled with her average hand and realized it fit right into his own. “Does anyone know what they really want?”

“Don’t get philosophical on me, Cameron Steward.” She frowned. “It’s not like you.”

“Ye reckon?”

“No. You’re the one who’s always telling me to jump. Telling me life is to be lived.”

True, very true. But something deep inside rebelled at her characterization because he was more than that. Wasn’t he? His turmoil burned through him like a stab from one of his hard-edged steel swords. “I don’t want to hurt ye, lass.”

“I want you.” Her flat statement was followed by a bold move that took his breath away.

She cupped his penis.

“Fucking hell,” he gasped.

“And you want me, too.” She gave him a winsome smile that made him gasp once more. “I can tell.”

“That’s not the point,” he sputtered.

“That’s exactly the point.” Her fiendish hand moved along his aching erection, brushing desire right through his jeans and into his cock.

Cam closed his eyes and took in the inevitable. He’d be his usual self and take what was on offer. He’d not weigh the consequences or protect anyone else. He’d only think about himself. Something ugly growled inside, but his lust overrode it. Because he could no longer stand against Jenny and her desire. “You’ve convinced me.”

She chuckled. “I’m glad.”

“You’re a wicked, wicked lass.” He reached down and grabbed her hand before she did more damage to his control. “We need a bed before we go further.”

“Come up to mine.” Twisting her hand in his, she pulled.

“I have a bigger bed.”

Her mouth went tense for a moment. “I need to be in my room in case Robbie gets lonely.”

Meaning—his son wouldn’t be looking for comfort in his father’s bedroom. Which showed how bright the boy was. He’d have found no comfort, because his da was useless in that regard. Regret at his failings and rage at his faults made him stop on the stairs.

Swinging around to face him again, a look of frustration crossed her face. But when she saw his own, everything softened. Her gaze, her jawline, her shoulders. “Cam. Don’t think about it tonight.”

“What?” he said with a surly glare, suddenly scared she read him so well.

“Don’t think about your son and your problems with him. Let’s take this night together.”

The thought of his son and the troubles between them stirred and swirled. The thought of Rob finding him in Jenny’s bed made him tense in immediate dismay. His long-neglected conscience reared its head once more. “Maybe we shouldn’t—”

“Don’t worry.” She kept marching, dragging him behind. “I’ll take care of Robbie if he appears.”

He followed her up the stairs and into her room. A mixture of regret, desire, confusion, and anger simmered inside him, making him dizzy. “I’m not sure—”

“Nope. No more objections.” She shoved the door closed behind them and leaned on it, blocking any last-minute exit. “You’re here. And for tonight, you’re mine.”

The wistful way she said
tonight
told him more than he wanted to know. His Jenny did want more, yet some womanly instinct had pegged Cameron Steward for what he was. Not good enough for the long haul. Not deserving of a woman’s trust and respect. The mix of his emotions edged into sour. “I’m good enough for a fling, eh?”

Her eyes, those eyes that drew and drew on him, went opaque. Then her lips firmed. “It’s all you’re offering, right? And I’m taking.”

Before he could process a response, she stepped right into him and took. Took his mouth with hers, cupped his cock again, and swallowed any remaining thought. He tried, tried to hold himself back and figure out what roared inside him, but all he could take in was Jenny. Her body and desire and shining beauty.

“Lass,” he whispered on her lips.

His conscience slid into a deep, dark hole, taking every last doubt with it.

He stroked his tongue into her warm mouth and sucked the hum she gave him into his. His hands grabbed her arse and pressed her heat into his.

Her hands fluttered into his hair, holding him closer and closer. Her kiss wasn’t practiced or hurried. She didn’t take him with the control of an experienced woman. Instead, she got him with her lack of pretense, the intense way she tasted him, the way she nibbled on his lips, the way she traced her tongue along his teeth.

Like she wanted him. Only him.

An ache yawned inside his heart, pure anguish flooded his soul.

“Jenny.” The one word gave her everything he had. Although it wasn’t going to be enough. Not for long. Not forever.

“Take this off.” She grabbed the edge of his black jumper and pulled it over his willing head.

He’d never paid much attention to his body. It was a vehicle that got him where he wanted to go. Keeping in shape wasn’t an obsession, it was merely a practical habit so he’d be ready to jump on the next plane and have another adventure.

The expression on Jenny’s face as she looked over his shoulders and chest made every jog and weight-lift session take on an entirely different meaning.

She breathed in. “You’re gorgeous.”

He shivered, with heat and pride and a fearful wonder.

“You’re also cold.” The delicate line of her brows frowned. “We should start a fire.”

“We already have.”

Glancing at him, she laughed. “True.”

“I’ll do a fire later.” He reached for her. “Right now, it’s your turn.”

Even in the shadows, he saw the blush rising to her cheeks. The moon, freed from the storm, lit the cozy room with a blurred glow and gave him all he needed to see her beauty.

“Come on, my mouse,” he coaxed her closer, tugging on her jumper. “I want to see ye, too.”

With a swift move, she lifted the wool thing over her head, brushing her blonde hair into a tumble he found adorable.

She wore a simple, white bra. No lacy affectation or brilliant colors shouting an invitation to a man’s fingers.

His fingers twitched.

A wary look covered her face. “I know that I’m not—”

“Jenny, Jenny, Jenny.” He pulled her close, taking in the feel of her soft, pure skin. “You’re everything.”

Sticking her nose into the crease of his neck and shoulder, she snuffled a muffled giggle. “Don’t be silly.”

“Calling me names, eh?” He let his hands run down her spine, relishing the feel of her—the solid presence of her in his arms, the silk of her skin, the gentle curve of her waist and hips. For the first time in his life, he wanted to take this slow. Slow and intense, so he could capture every second in his memory.

“You can take off my bra, if you want.” Her muffled words tickled.

“I’m enjoying myself.” He kept running his fingers along her spine, fascinated at the delicate string of bones. “Don’t rush me.”

She chuckled again. “This is surprising.”

“What?” He focused on the small patch of skin at the bottom of her spine. So tender and plush and womanly, he could barely imagine its existence.

“You.” Her hands, squashed between their bodies, twisted. “Going slow.”

He leaned back to stare at her, amusement and something like appalled offense lighting him inside. “Is that an insult?”

“No.” Her expression glimmered with answering humor. “Not in the slightest.”

“Kiss me.” Ducking in, he took what he asked for before she could respond. The kiss blurred his last brain cell into a warm puddle.

Gasping, he reared back and asked for more. “Touch me.”

Her hands, so average and so profoundly unique, took his suggestion and swept across his burning skin, setting a string of molten fires in their wake. She kissed him again as she touched his shoulders, then his flexing back, then his heaving chest. Her fingers slid through the rough hair at the center of his chest and then one teasing finger took a path down, following the line of hair to the edge of his jeans.

“Hmm,” he murmured into the shell of her ear, taking in her scent, the simple mixture of soap and Jenny.

“I want this off.” She stepped back and whipped her bra off in one quick flick.

Now it was his turn to stare. Her breasts were just breasts. He’d seen quite a few. He’d touched and sucked on several. He’d even believed he’d seen the best a time or two.

Yet nothing compared to his Jenny’s breasts. Because they were hers.

“Och.” He slipped his fingers under the roundness of her flesh, sliding across her puckering nipples. “You make it hard for me to take this slow.”

She sucked in a breath at his soft touch and then moved closer. “I want to feel your skin on mine.”

“That sounds like a good idea.” His hands went around her and tugged her to him. The feel of her on his chest, her skin completely different from his roughness, made every muscle in his body tighten. “I’m thinking we should get in the bed.”

“We’re not done undressing.” Her hand skated down his torso to the edge of his jeans. “You first.”

“I went first last time,” he teased. “And we’re in no hurry. I still have to investigate the rest of the top of ye.”

She glanced into his eyes, a twinkle of boldness lighting her own. “I’m in a hurry.”

“Are ye?”

“To see all of you.” Her fingers latched onto the front of his jeans and the first button came undone.

His stomach clenched.

“You’re so hard and hot.” Her hand wedged between the denim and his skin. “I can’t wait to feel every part of you.”

“Okay.” His lust pushed past his determination to take her in one slow step at a time. “I’ll be first.”

Kicking off his shoes, he chucked his jeans and briefs at the same time. He straightened, keeping his hands to himself, giving her what she wanted.

Himself. Naked.

When he looked at her, caught her wide gaze, he knew he was more naked now then he’d ever been before. Naked not only bodily, but emotionally as well.

Another shiver ran down his spine at the realization.

* * *

J
en couldn’t say
Cameron Steward was the best-looking man she’d ever seen.

He had a crook in his nose, and his eyes were odd. He did have big, wide shoulders, that was true. But his chest wasn’t manscaped, and it didn’t taper into lean hips as most women preferred. Instead, his waist and hips were a solid, strong continuation of his shoulders’ strength. Sturdy thighs eased down into rugged calves. His body was a warrior’s body. Not an ounce of fat, not an ounce of give.

All of him, every inch of skin and muscle, made her throat clutch in pure pleasure and her body melt into a fiery mush.

“You’re not saying much.” Those odd eyes narrowed. “Do ye like anything ye see?”

His cock followed the pattern of the rest of his body. Big and bold, it bobbed in front of her, fully erect and ready for action.

“
Like
would not be the word I’d choose.” She stepped to him and took. Took in the feel of his heated skin with her palms and fingers. Took in the scent of him, the crisp, clear smell of him, muted now by the musk of his desire. Took in his gaze as he stared at her, lust and need and want welling in the amber and gold. “I’d say the word would be love.”

Her heart stopped as the word slipped out, and her hands stilled on his body. Cam’s mouth tightened, a sure sign she’d said the wrong thing at the wrong time.

He sighed. “I’m not sure—”

“Don’t.” She could see it, that same extraordinary reluctance to take what she was offering. She saw it in those eyes, saw it in the pained expression on his face, noticed how the furnace of his body seemed to chill. “Don’t say anything else.”

Wrapping her hands around his neck, she yanked his mouth to hers. She used her tongue and lips and teeth to swallow his lingering objections until finally, slowly, his own tongue and lips and teeth followed her lead.