Lion of Caledonia: International Billionaires VII: The Scots (19 page)

Reality was going to bite very, very soon.

When she left here for good and went back to a place that had never felt like home, cold reality would live with her for weeks and months. She’d found a good job at the garden center and worked with plenty of landscaping companies. Making friends had never been easy for her, but she’d managed to connect with two of the other gardeners and they’d planned on starting their own business together. Her little cottage was only a rental, yet she’d decided to buy the place, figuring it would be a good step into settling in and feeling like this was a real home.

Still, none of what she’d left behind felt as real and strong as here.

Right here in cool, misty Scotland with the loch spreading in front of her and the remodeled garden rolling behind. Remodeled under her direction. The hulking mansion now felt like an old friend, stuffed with treasured collections and brand-new furniture. She’d come to realize during the last few weeks—a home wasn’t a place. A true home centered on the people who lived and loved inside the house or hut or castle.

Like Cam and Robbie.

She swallowed the bitterness before it burned her throat. She’d known. She’d known when she befriended Robbie and she’d known when she took Cam’s body into hers. Her aim in coming here to this place had never been to find a home or fall in love. It had been to find a ring and return it to its rightful owner.

Jennet Douglas Fellowes deserved to suffer because she’d brought it on herself.

Sliding the boat door open, she stepped inside, trying to find something to distract her from her thoughts.

The sailboat and the longliner rolled gently in their berths. Robbie had been beyond excited to find his collections still intact. Cam had been irritated at the amount of work needed to be done to get the sailboat back into shape, but he hadn’t resorted to yelling at his son. He’d merely given him a glare and told him he’d be doing most of the work.

The boy had appeared enchanted with the idea of working with his father.

They’d be fine.

She’d accomplished one good thing here. Helping father and son come together had been her one good deed.

Jen walked to the stairs and climbed to the second floor. The place was still empty of furniture, however, it had been thoroughly cleaned. Stepping over to the terrace doors, she stared at the simple deck and let herself imagine one more time.

A swinging bench with fluffy pillows. Robbie laughing as he scrambled onto the railing. Cam giving her a wink as he grabbed his son and pulled him to safety. Grief welled in her throat and she knew that for the foreseeable future, she’d suffer with it in the pit of her soul.

But she’d done what she had to do.

She had the ring.

“What are ye doing here?” Cam’s gruff voice came from the doorway.

Jen gasped in surprise and twisted her head to meet his surly gaze.

“Why aren’t ye where you’re supposed to be? In your warm bed, waiting for me?”

“I thought…” She wrapped her arms around her, shivering with unwanted delight. Because he might still want her now, but she’d glimpsed the pain in her future. Perhaps it would be better to stop this whole thing now. “Well, it was very late.”

“I have guests.” He prowled into the open room. “I can’t be with ye and Rob all the time now. Not for the next few days.”

“I know—”

“Eventually everyone will leave, though, and we’ll be back together like before.”

His confident claim made her want to retch. She hadn’t wanted to think of him with Amanda Reed, or any other woman. Yet now, for a moment, she wished he would get dazzled by Amanda, or someone else.

Then he wouldn’t be hurt when she disappeared.

One person hurting was enough.

Pacing to her side, he slid his fingers through her hair. He pulled her forward and sipped at her mouth, in exactly the way she liked.

He’d learned.

All about her body and her likes and dislikes. He’d told her with a laugh he was doing some investigating and he’d never been more focused on a project. The project to make her happy. Sexually, and every other way.

He’d done a fine job. Too fine a job for her heart to stand.

“Cam,” she murmured, jerking her lips from his. “You should go be with your guests.”

“Naw.” His mouth followed hers. “They’re both asleep in their rooms and neither of them need me mollycoddling them.”

“Perhaps we should go to bed, then.” Leaning back, she tried to pull away emotionally as well. “Tomorrow’s going to be a big day.”

“Going to bed is a good idea.” In a swift, sure movement, he swung her around and pinned her to the wall. “But I’m thinking we could do some good things right here.”

Jen hadn’t quite become used to his sexual playfulness. He still surprised her. “Here?”

“Here.” He pressed his erection into her stomach, showing her what he wanted. “We haven’t done it here, have we?”

Sighing, she leaned her head on his broad chest, taking in his heat and his steady heartbeat. How she wished she could begin again with this man and find some way to get the ring to her grandfather and keep Cam. But it was too late. If she tried to broach the subject now, he’d realize she’d come under false pretenses. He had a temper. He might throw her out or even have her arrested.

She couldn’t chance it. Her dying grandfather needed his ring.

“Jenny?” His hand threaded through her hair, a gentle, loving touch that brought tears to the edges of her eyes. “Did I forget and we’ve done it here against the wall?”

“No.” She laughed and let go of her despair, grabbing another moment of happiness. “I would have remembered.”

“You’re the one who’s always taking notes and making lists.” His hand swept under her jumper and he purred when he found she hadn’t worn a bra. “You’ll need to add this to the list as soon as we get back to the house.”

The idea of her having a list of all the places they’d had sex made her giggle into his kiss.

On one of the library’s sofas and then, an hour later, on the other.

On the billiard table after he’d tried to teach her how to play with little success.

On her bed and his.

His bed
.

When he’d fallen asleep, she’d seen the new key chain and done what she had to do.

Steal. While he slept.

There was a chance he might go into his mother’s locked room. He’d talked about packing up the clothes and fixing the room for guests. However, he’d indicated it wouldn’t happen until after this party, so she took the risk.

The blood-red ruby ring was hidden at the bottom of her lined suitcase.

“What is it?” He whispered into her ear. “You’ve gone stiff on me.”

She pressed her forehead on his big shoulder, wanting to weep again. But he’d be concerned, and he’d try and ferret out the truth. A truth she’d never reveal to him. “Kiss me. I need to get warmer.”

“Hmm.” Tugging on her hair, he pulled her head back so he could see her moonlit face. “You’re sure, mouse? Nothing bothering ye?”

“Nope.” She forced herself to meet his keen gaze. “I only need a kiss.”

And a touch. And him inside of her.

Her answer seemed to satisfy him, because his wide mouth swooped in and took hers. No longer playful, his kiss flamed into hard, hot passion. Like he always did, he swept her with him, took her body and her mind and pulled her apart.

She loved it. Every time. And every time, he made her love him more.

“Take these off.” He yanked at her jeans. “I want to have ye.”

Stripping off the offending pants, she shivered as the cool night air hit the bare skin of her butt and legs.

Silver flashed as he ripped open the condom package. “Come here and I’ll make ye nice and toasty.”

Laughing, she threw her head back as his big hands lifted her, pinning her to the wall once more. He nuzzled her neck as he placed himself at her opening.

“Never done it against a wall before,” he muttered. “I can’t imagine wanting to do this with anyone but ye, Jenny.”

She looked into his glittering eyes and twisted her fingers into his hair. “I can’t, either.”

“Ye make me do things, lass.” He arched his spine, pushing himself into her. “Things I never thought I’d do.”

“Really?” She ached for what could have been between them.

“Yes, really.” His lashes fell, shielding him from her searching gaze. “I’m not sure what to think about it.”

“Don’t think about it at all.” She couldn’t have this moment ruined. She needed every single moment they had left together. “Just feel.”

His hoarse chuckle caressed her cheek. “Anything ye say, fair lady.”

His hips pumped, pumped. He set a blistering pace, moving in and out of her, making her moan with need. They both still wore their jumpers and the contrast between the cool below, the heat building from their upper bodies covered in wool, and the burning center of their sex made Jen dizzy with excitement.

Cam groaned, then moved her farther up on the wall, positioning her for his harder thrust. The change threw her into an orgasm, the swell of pleasure washing over her like the surge of the loch’s water.

He panted, thrust again and went taut, his eyes clenched shut, his body rigid with satisfaction.

They breathed together, silent moments of holding each other as they slid down from perfection into reality. The wind whipped the side of the boathouse, and the sound of the waves below rolled through the room.

“That was….” He rumbled to a stop.

She breathed in again, taking in his scent, the clean, crispness swirling ahead of the deep musk of the man. “That was amazing.”

“Only amazing?” He lifted his head, his tawny brows rising with another of his teases. “Not extraordinary or phenomenal or spectacular?”

Chuckling, she smoothed her hands across his board shoulders, warming her palms on the heat pouring through his jumper. “I suppose you should let me down.”

“Hmm.” He didn’t move from her, still pressing her to the wall. “First, a last kiss.”

A last kiss
.

Would it be the last one?

Her heart broke as she put her lips to his.

“
D
a
! Put another log on the fire.” Rob danced along the perimeter of the leaping flames like a small, frenzied dervish. “And another and another.”

“He’s got your blood, don’t he?” Tre crossed his arms and grinned at him. “Crazy as his father.”

Cam looped another log into the center of the blaze. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black, eh?”

Amanda and several other of his old TV colleagues chuckled around them. His other guests had arrived during the course of the day and had been settled comfortably in their rooms. The caterers had put on a good spread tonight—fresh salmon and tatties, with a nice toffee pudding for the end. Now, with his newly-met neighbors all here, the marshmallows, slabs of dark chocolate, and shortbread laid out on tables surrounding the fire were ready to be burned to a crisp and eaten.

Rubbing his full stomach, a feeling of contentment ran through him. Surprise followed after. Contentment wasn’t something he’d ever yearned for. He searched for excitement instead. Yet, right now, with his best friend beside him, his boy dancing in the firelight, he was content.

Almost.

One more person needed to be here to make his contentment complete. He glanced over the crowd. “Where’s Jenny?”

“She’s doing what she clearly does all the time,” Tre responded, wry irony in his voice. “Organizing your life.”

He frowned. “She should be here, enjoying herself.”

“I saw her talking with the catering crew a moment ago,” Amanda chimed in. “She’s making sure we’ve got what we need to make the s’mores.”

“The stuff for that is already laid out.” He twisted around, peering past the laughing, drinking crowd and into the darkness of the garden. “I’ll go find her.”

A slim, red-nailed hand stopped him. “I’m sure she’ll be along when she’s done. You should stay and entertain your guests.”

He glanced into sultry eyes shooting him the message Amanda had been delivering all damn day. In the past, he’d dallied with the thought of taking her invitation on. Now his vibrant imagination couldn’t even summon a spot of interest.

Jenny.

There was only Jenny for him.

The realization streaked through his heart, sending it trembling. Still, taking on another woman to fight the fear would be plain stupid. He might be many ugly things, but Cam Steward wasn’t stupid. “Amanda, I’m thinking we need to have a wee chat—”

“Da!” Rob ran to his side, grabbing his hand, his face alight with happiness. “Can we start the s’mores? I’m hungry.”

Looking down at his happy son, everything inside him went quiet with sure knowledge. He might not be the best father in the world and he might have wavered about what to do for his son. The joy in Rob’s eyes, though, told him he had to man up and think through how to be the da his son needed.

He wasn’t going to run on this one.

Not this time.

“Da!” His boy tugged on his sleeve. “Come on. You’re the one who’s got to start.”

Figuring he’d find Jenny eventually, he let Rob pull him to the table loaded with food. Neighbors and friends surrounded them and soon long sticks hovered above the fire, roasting marshmallows splattering on the flames below.

Tre’s deep baritone led the others in song, the children’s piping voices mixed with the lower tones of the adults.

A soft hand slipped into his, a hand he’d come to know as well as his own. “Jenny,” he whispered, to her and to his heart.

“I’m here.” Her short blonde hair wafted in the wind, so simple, so right. “The s’mores were good, weren’t they?”

“Yes. Where’ve ye been?” He curled his arm around her waist and sighed in complete contentment.

She glanced at him, amusement curling her lips. “Do you think the food and drink just magically appeared?”

“Naw.” He tweaked her short, average nose, a nose he now found impossibly adorable. Bending close, he nipped on the end. “I’m thinking ye have a lot to do with any magic going on.”

Her grey eyes gazed into his, telling him so many things he didn’t understand, yet wanted to. “I don’t—”

“Jenny.” He tried to catch a kiss, but she turned her head to stare at the bonfire before he could make his move.

That was all right. He had time. Tonight. And if he could manage to keep himself together, for many, many nights to come.

Could he take on more than Rob? Could he find in himself the ability to stick, to make good, to keep himself close to one woman forever? The shiver slid from his heart down into his gut.

He wouldn’t hurt Rob or Jenny.

Not for his life.

He wouldn’t chance taking on this role of responsibility unless he was sure he could stick.

Could he?

Confusion swarmed inside him, blowing away the sense of contentment he’d lazed in moments before. In her typical way, Jenny appeared to sense his agitation. Her hand landed on the middle of his chest and she eased her head onto his shoulder. “Cam. Enjoy the moment.”

Sighing, he hugged her close and tried to banish the turmoil. Yet her words struck him, sticking in his mind like hard nails. Because that’s what he’d done his entire life.

Enjoy the moment.

His father had battered him about this trait for his entire childhood, not with fists but with words.

You’ll not amount to anything, Cameron, if you don’t learn to stick with it.

You’re a disappointment, lad. Why can’t you stop flitting from thing to thing?

You’re off on another one of your stupid travels instead of staying at university and finishing what ye started.

“Hey.” Jenny’s hand drifted across his tight jaw. “What’s wrong?”

He wanted to kiss her and forget. He wanted to take without thought. He wanted to banish the old taunts and believe in what lay in his heart. He would try. For her, he would try and do anything. “Jenny—”

“Da!” Rob rushed over, his eyes glittering in the firelight. “It’s time for a ghost story.”

“Is it?” Stuffing down the chaos churning inside, he focused on his boy. “Who’s going to tell the first story?”

“Ye.” His son bounced on his toes. “Naturally.”

Jenny chuckled and Cam forced himself to throw her a jaunty grin. “We never did finish the story about the kelpie and the fair lady.”

“No, Da.” A childish snort came. “A ghost story.”

Tre laughed as he sidled into the conversation. “I’m not sure your father can tell a good ghost story.”

She slid from his side, only her hand in his, lingering.

Rob scowled at his friend. “He can. He’s got the best ghost stories.”

The pride in his son’s voice swelled inside him, making him feel as if he could achieve whatever he set his mind to. He could do this. He could be what his son and his love needed and deserved. “I’m thinking I could tell a better story than ye, Tremaine.”

“A challenge.” His best friend grinned. “Ye go first, ye dobber. Then you’ll hear a real ghost story from me.”

Her hand let his go.

An hour later, several ghost stories from Cam and Tre and a few of the men from the village had produced shrieks and laughter and one bout of tears from a little girl. Rob lay in Jenny’s arms, fast asleep, just as many of the other children lay in their parents’ embrace.

“Let me take him.” He leaned down, sweeping his boy into his grasp.

She stood and snagged the rug they’d been lying on. “Give him back to me.” Her gentle smile softened the demand. “You need to stay with the last of the guests.”

“Steward!” Amanda called from the other side of the fire, where part of the crowd had congregated around the tubs of beer and ale. “Come here and tell us another story. Tre’s missed hearing all your tales.”

“Who says so?” his friend’s deep voice broke in. “I haven’t missed a thing about the laddie.”

“Give him over.” Jenny held out her arms. “As you yourself said, you’ve got guests to take care of.”

With a reluctant grin, he handed Rob to her. “I’d rather be going to the house with ye both.”

The truth of his sentence struck him sideways. He would. He would rather spend quiet time with his son and Jenny than while away the night with his rollicking friends. How could he have changed so much, so quickly? Was this real, or some transitory need he’d soon lose? He’d never once, in his entire life, yearned for contentment instead of excitement.

He did now.

The confusion rolled back.

Trying to push it away, he bent over to kiss his boy’s sticky cheek. “You’ll be okay getting him washed and put to bed?”

“I think I can manage.” She looked down, her features alight with…

Love.

She loved his boy.

She also loved him. He knew it deep inside.

A moment ago, he’d promised himself to try and make this work, yet this love she had, for him and his, shook him. Martine had loved him, in her fashion, and look what that had led to. His mother had loved him, in her way, but she’d never been happy with him. His father, his blighted and bitter father, had tried to use his love to make him something Cam was not and never could be.

Would Jenny eventually glare at him with demented rage as Martine had?

As the months went by, with him in her bed and in her life, would she tell him of her disappointment using the same weary sighs his mother had used?

Or God help him, would his love finally look at him with harsh disgust the way his father had stared at him the last time Cam had seen him alive?

The insides of his soul and his spirit and his heart lurched back and forth, back and forth, making him dizzy with indecision.

Jenny glanced at him, giving him a quiet smile. “Good night.”

He wanted her. In his life and in his bed. He wanted to have her stand by his side.

He also didn’t want to disappoint her. Ever.

“Wait.” He dipped his lips towards hers. “I haven’t given ye a kiss yet.”

She stepped back with an abrupt jerk. “Not here. Not now.”

Lifting a brow, he tried not to be hurt. “You’re ashamed of being with me?”

“No.” The quick word shot out of her mouth. “But it isn’t appropriate.”

“Appropriate?” Tre strode right into their conversation once more, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “There’s that word again. Can’t say I’m not continually astonished at hearing that word tied to the dobber.”

Smacking his friend on the shoulder, he kept his gaze on her. Because there was something in the way she smiled, something in her eyes scared him.

“Good night, Tre. Cam.” She hefted his son in her arms.

“It’s Cam now, eh?” The taller man chuckled. “Not Mr. Steward?”

She blushed. Even in the firelight, he saw her porcelain skin flush. How could he have ever thought this woman was not anything above average?

“Leave her alone, Tre.” His gruff voice crackled into the night.

His friend stilled, his mouth going slack.

Turning away from the crowd, Cam whispered in her ear. “You’ll come back? After you’ve put Rob to bed?”

“I don’t think so.” She kept her focus on his boy. “I’m tired.”

Disappointment spiked through him with a jagged edge. “I’d like it if ye came back.”

Her gaze swept to his, a look of fragile hope in her eyes. “Really?”

“Yes, really, mouse.” Why would she think he’d not want her here? “The party won’t be a party without ye.”

A flash of astonishment crossed her face, surprising him.

“Steward!” Amanda’s voice rose again. “Come over here and party with us.”

“Go on.” Jenny clutched his son and gave him a tentative smile.

“I’ll wait for ye.”

“Okay.” The whisper of the word slid into the night as she turned and walked toward the mansion.

He swung around to meet Tre’s shocked gaze. “What?”

“You’ve done it. You’ve finally done it.”

“Done what, ye loon?”

His friend’s hefty arm encircled his neck, pulling him into a hug. “I’m glad for ye. I honestly am.”

“I don’t know what—”

“You two.” Amanda strutted to them, annoyance on her face. “Do I have to drag you into the fun?”

“Naw.” He straightened, pushing his crazy friend away. “Come on, Tre. Let’s see if ye can still drink a beer.”

As he followed his friends, he glanced at the house, wishing he were somewhere else.

* * *

“
G
ive me another kiss
.”

“I’ve already given you two.” But Jen obediently leaned down to give Robbie another. “There. It’s time for you to sleep.”

“I had fun tonight.” He snuggled into his bed. “Did ye?”

She had. Surprisingly. Even Tre’s teasing hadn’t diminished her enjoyment. Organizing parties she could do, yet participating in them wasn’t something she was ordinarily good at. She’d liked the down-to-earth parents that had come from town, though, and Cam’s colleagues had been cordial. Even Amanda Reed had sought out her company, and seemed to like talking with her.