Lion of Caledonia: International Billionaires VII: The Scots (21 page)

“Hard on her?” He jumped to his feet, anger blowing away his confusion. Pacing over to Tre, he got right in his face. “What the hell did ye do to her?”

“I asked her some questions to make sure ye were both on the same page.” His friend didn’t retreat an inch. “I defended ye. Told her ye weren’t fooling around with her.”

“Ye had no right to quiz her.” Something warm slid inside his heart, reminding him this man before him had always stood by his side. Yet, that didn’t excuse his nosiness or his aggression with Jenny. “It’s no business of yours what’s going on between us.”

“Is that so?” Tre’s hand grabbed his arm in a tight grip, a blaze of hurt burning in his gaze. “I’m supposed to let ye do something stupid and instead of stopping ye, I’m to let ye fall?”

“Now it’s my turn to tell you both to stop.” Amanda rose and slid between the two of them. “Sit down and talk like adults, not idiot teenagers.”

His friend made a sound of pained aggravation deep in his throat and sat.

Cam paced to his favorite window and glared out at the moonlit night. “If ye hurt her, Tre, I swear—”

“I didn’t lay a hand on her, ye nutter. Ye know me better than that.” Tre’s voice was edged with disgust. “In fact, I was protecting ye, if ye want to know.”

“Protecting me?” He turned in astonishment to stare at his friend. “When the hell did ye ever need to protect me?”

“I don’t know.” Tre leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. “Maybe when I saw ye pinning your heart on your sleeve.”

A flush of mortification heated his skin. Had he been so obvious? Tre and he were close, but he hadn’t thought his emotions were that easy to detect. Hell, he didn’t even know what was truly in his heart yet. How could his friend? “I was doing no such thing.”

“Well, then.” Tre shrugged. “Looks like both ye and Jen were only having a bit of fun and there’s nothing to worry about. I’ll keep my nose out if it from now on.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Amanda smiled, a tease in her eyes. “After all, I wouldn’t say most men, when given a chance at me, would say no.”

Cam grunted.

“Our dear Cameron did just that last night though.” She flung her blonde hair over one shoulder, as if she couldn’t care less. But she still was going to get in a dig, he could see it in her eyes. “A gold-embossed, full-on invitation.”

“Ye don’t say,” Tre drawled, picking up the tease. “I wouldn’t be adverse to having that invitation thrown at me.”

She sniffed. “Maybe someday.”

His friend grinned, not provoked in the least. “Do I need to pin my heart on my sleeve for ye, sweet Amanda?”

“If I wait for that day to come, I’ll be an old, grey lady.”

Dismissing the familiar interplay, Cam turned back to stare at the loch. Whatever Tre had heard, it hadn’t been what he thought. He’d stake his life on it. Jenny didn’t have a bad bone in her body, and she didn’t know how to lie with any effectiveness.

He wanted to prove it tonight, but it was past one in the morning. He should leave it alone for now. He’d say goodbye to these two tomorrow. Then he’d sort out Jenny and himself. They’d get back to working together on his book during the day, and working on giving each other pleasure during the night. He’d have the time to judge if he’d hurt her by going forward with their relationship, or if he had the ability to make this work.

His heart, his stupid and confused heart lifted.

Still restless, he prowled to the other window, his mind half listening to the banter going on between his friends.

He had plans for his boy, too. They’d spend this summer getting to know each other under Jenny’s careful guidance. He trusted her to keep them both in line and both on track. By the time the fall arrived, he’d have sorted out the school situation for Rob. He’d had a chance to talk to some of neighboring parents during the bonfire party and today. The local school was good. Jenny could tour it with him and tell him if was good enough for his son.

The thought of his son conjured him up in real life. “Da?”

Swinging around, he met his son’s worried gaze. The lad shuffled into the library, dragging his wooden sword behind him, his Spiderman pajamas turned inside out.

Cam grimaced.

When he’d checked on his boy earlier this evening, he’d found him hot with sweat, twisted in his sheets. Waking Rob from his bad dream, he’d stripped him of the damp pjs and remade his bed. He probably should have turned on the lights, but he hadn’t wanted to disturb the boy any further. So what the hell. So he dressed his kid inside out. What did it matter? He’d be a good father eventually, with Jenny’s help.

He paced to his boy and lifted him into his arms. “What is it? Did ye have a hard time falling asleep again?”

“Yes. I went to Jen like she told me I should.”

He patted a skinny arm. “She locked the door on ye, did she? She did the same to me last night.”

“That’s a surprise.” Amanda chimed in.

“Shoosh now,” he threw over his shoulder. “No more digs. Not with Rob here.”

“There’s the protective parent I always knew was in ye, Cameron,” Tre said, a grin in his voice.

“Ye shoosh, too.” He swung back to meet his son’s gaze. “She needed some sleep, Rob. That’s all.”

“No. That’s not all.” Tawny brows, so like his own, furrowed. “She’s not there, Da.”

“What?” Confusion swirled inside as he tried to make sense of the words. “What do ye mean?”

“She’s gone.” The brown and gold of Rob’s eyes gleamed with sudden tears. “She took all her stuff, too.”

His hands tightened on the small body with disbelief. “You’ve got it wrong.”

“I wish.” The boy stared at him, two teardrops streaking down his white cheeks. “But I don’t.”

He dropped his son to his feet, every muscle in his body taut with dread. “Ye stay here with Tre and Amanda.”

“Okay.” Rob clutched his fingers. “You’ll find her, Da, right?”

“I’ll find her.”

He took off, running through the library doors, telling himself this must be a mistake, his boy must be wrong. Yet Rob wasn’t the type to raise a false alarm. Maybe, hopefully, possibly the fact he hadn’t worn his glasses might be the cause of this whole problem.

But Cam didn’t think so.

Because his gut roared in silent accusation. He’d known something was wrong and he’d ignored the warning.

Just as he had with Martine.

Until it was too late.

Bounding up the stairs to the third floor, he raced to her door. It was open, not locked. The room was empty, not filled with her soft, gentle presence.

He stepped inside, slowly.

The fireplace was cold. Not filled with the flames of warmth that had gilded her naked skin. The cozy armchair was empty. No stout teacup filled with steaming comfort sat by its side. The bed had been made with a rigid attention to detail. The covers and pillows didn’t lie in haphazard disarray, waiting for someone to slide under them and lay their blonde head down.

“Jenny?”

He already knew. Knew he’d done something to foul this relationship up, done something to drive his woman from his side.

A shiver of terror spiked in him at the thought.

Then reality slithered inside, cutting the shiver off in one stroke.

Jenny wasn’t crazy. Not like Martine had been. She wouldn’t walk herself into the loch and drown the madness during a Scottish storm. He didn’t have to worry about that.

Yet, she’d left him, nevertheless.

He walked to the bedstand and drifted his fingers across the emptiness. No books, or glass of water, or shiny phone. He forced himself to walk into the bathroom. No bottles of lotion or toothpaste and toothbrush. Swinging around, he opened the one closet. No simple woolen skirts or buttoned-up shirts.

She’d left him.

Without a word. Without a goodbye. Without an explanation.

“
T
o my housekeeper
, I leave the amount of ten thousand pounds.” The solicitor’s sonorous voice droned on, the list of her grandfather’s beneficiaries seemingly endless.

Jen had tried to avoid this stifling ritual. No one gathered all the family and read a will any longer. But her grandfather had been old-fashioned, and consequently, his solicitors were too. So the relatives had come together, exactly two weeks after the funeral, to hear the juicy details in Lloyd Fellowes’ will. When she’d attempted to escape the meeting, Cousin Edward had given her a disapproving look and told her Grandfather would expect her to attend.

He definitely would have.

If he were still alive.

“To my loyal butler, I leave the first edition of Sir Walter Scott’s works.”

Glancing over, she caught her cousin Lizzy’s eye. A narrowed eye. As if Jen were under inspection.

Nothing new. She’d merely forgotten these last two years. Growing up with the Fellowes’ expectations had been overwhelming at first, then frustrating. Finally, she’d been unable to bend anymore. Leaving this vast estate, the family wealth and connections and protection, had been hard, at first. Yet, she’d had no choice. She’d been dying inside. Dying to find her rightful place, her home.

This estate had never been a home.

“To my granddaughter, Elizabeth…”

Cousin Lizzy swung her gaze from Jen to the solicitor. An eager smile crossed her face.

“…I leave her grandmother’s pearl necklace and earrings.”

Lizzy leaned forward.

“To my grandson, James, I leave—”

“That’s all?” Lizzy’s screech ripped through the room.

Jen sighed and slid back on the antique satinwood armchair. Why did her cousin believe she deserved anything else? She’d hadn’t paid any attention to her grandfather when he’d been alive, except to ask for money. Why would she think he’d pay much attention to her at his death?

“Elizabeth.” Cousin Edward’s sharp voice cut in. “Behave.”

Edward was the oldest of the grandchildren. When Jen had arrived at her grandfather’s doorstep, found and saved, Edward had been ready to leave for his studies at Oxford. Even from that perch, though, he’d managed to make sure his presence was felt. By the time he’d graduated, he’d placed himself firmly at her grandfather’s right hand. Nothing had changed during the last sixteen years.

And all the other cousins knew it.

She glanced to the right at her commanding cousin and his wife. Helena had a serene smile on her mouth and Edward appeared complacent. They were going to inherit the bulk of the estate. The expectation sat on both of them like a smug weight.

They could have it.

Unlike the rest of her relatives, she had no interest in acquiring any of her grandfather’s possessions. Fellowes possessions inevitably came with strings. Strings of expectations and obligations and demands.

She desired strings of love and connection and home.

She’d found those in Scotland.

Or at least, she’d thought she had.

Cousin Edward gave her a smirk and she wondered what he’d do with the estate. Would he sell it to some new millionaire? The pile was terribly expensive to maintain and she had a feeling the money was more important to Edward and Helena than the house. Who knew, though? Her cousin had always spouted how important the family and family traditions were. Especially when her grandfather was nearby.

Yet, Jen thought she saw underneath his words to the real Edward. The Edward who said and did what was expected only when it counted. At family gatherings, he’d never spent any time with her at all. She wasn’t important. If she were the cynical sort, she’d say he’d only paid attention to little Jennet when she could do the family some good.

Like stealing a ring.

Giving the whole situation a faint shrug, she turned her head and stared out of one of the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the length of the living room. The solicitor had wanted them to gather in Grandfather’s library, but Edward had dictated they should assemble in the large, elegant main room.

Jen had been grateful. She’d held fond memories of one room in this vast mansion—the library. Tarnishing the memories of that place with talks about money and discussions about who got what didn’t appeal.

Her grandfather was gone. What else mattered?

The solicitor coughed and began again. “As I was saying, to my grandson, James…”

Ignoring the ponderous voice, she focused on the one other part of this estate she would miss.

The gardens.

Sun shone on the banks of flowering lilacs and lush green laurel. Over the hill, lay her grandmother’s treasured rose garden, white trellises showing off the yellow old tea roses, the purple gallica, the creamy damask.

“The old bastard,” James snarled by the windows, his voice lifting above the crowd of relatives. “He could have at least left me the Rolls Royce.”

She switched her gaze from the warm summer scene to her cousin’s wintery scowl. At twenty-seven, a year older than she, James had spent his time after leaving university doing very little. She supposed he could have become something more after she’d disappeared from the family, but he still must be obsessed with cars and racing.

The lawyer chose to ignore the latest outburst. “And to Edward and Helena, my steadfast help through many years…”

Well, then. Grandfather hadn’t left anything to her. She breathed in and let out a deep sigh. Not completely surprising. The last two years he’d been severely disappointed in her, and although she’d delivered the ring, apparently that hadn’t been enough to patch their relationship together. Plus, a month ago, when she’d arrived at the hospital straight from the train station, ruby ring in hand, he’d been grouchy.

“You took enough time getting the job done, didn’t you?” He’d glared at her from above his glasses. The doctors said he was close to death, the cancer creeping closer and closer to its goal, yet she hadn’t seen any dimming in his slate-grey eyes.

“Sorry, Grandfather.” She’d slid onto his bed, leaning down to give him a quick kiss on his whiskered cheek. “I have the ring right here.”

She laid the small cardboard box in his gnarled hand.

For a moment, her heart clutched, as if she were giving herself away instead of a priceless ring. Then her grandfather curled his fingers around the box and her right to any kind of love slipped away.

“You got the correct ring?”

Standing, she walked to the large window overlooking the private hospital’s parking lot. A late spring mist hung in the air, reminding her of another place, another misty place. “Yes.”

Her simple answer seemed to satisfy him, because he grunted. A sound she’d grown up with and knew meant she’d pleased him.

Silence fell between them, as it often did. When her grandfather had come to the foster home she’d lived in for a year after her parents’ death, she’d been filled with gratefulness. He’d saved her from a wretchedly unhappy existence. Lloyd Fellowes didn’t do cuddles and hugs, but he had provided a solid, steady presence in her life.

At first, when she’d yearned for more, she’d been a nuisance.

She’d learned though. She’d learned to be the quiet, passive granddaughter he’d wanted for years and years. Even after leaving, after she’d decided she couldn’t be the person he wanted her to be anymore, she still held a wistful affection for him.

She’d missed him these past two years. She’d miss him even more when he was no longer alive. Miss knowing he was there for her if she truly needed him.

“Well, Jennet.” He rustled behind her. “It’s about time for me to join your grandmother.”

Grief filled her throat.

“And your mother.”

Jen swung around to gape at him in surprise. Her mother had only been brought up once in the entire time she’d known her grandfather. The reference had not been a fond one.

His bushy eyebrows lifted. “There’s not much more time to talk about her, is there?”

“Talk about…my mother?”

“Yes.” The word snapped. “We need to clear this history away before I’m gone.”

She drifted toward the bed, worry and hope blending inside. The need to know what had happened before she could remember. What had driven her mother from her home? What had created the rift that had left Jennet Douglas alone at the age of five? All the need had been stifled when she’d arrived at Fellowes Hall and been told to keep quiet. “I don’t want to upset you.”

“I’m upset I’m dying.” He sniffed in disgust. “Nothing else can touch that.”

The hospital room door flew open and Edward marched inside, his wife not far behind. “Grandfather.” He smiled.

Jen had always thought his smile rather smarmy, but she’d kept that to herself.

“You see,” her cousin continued, “we got the ring back for you just in time.”

We
?

A strangled laugh escaped her and the old man on the bed caught it. His eyes narrowed at her before he glanced back at his eldest grandson. “We?”

Her oldest cousin stuttered to a stop. He gave her a glance, an ugly look. “Yes, Jennet did what we told her to do.”

She also did what she shouldn’t have done. Fell in love with a man and a boy.

Then, betrayed them.

Another kind of grief ripped her inside.

“Jennet?” Her grandfather had never missed a thing.

Exactly like another man who saw right into her secrets and had, for a bright, singular moment, been her dream come true.

Your face, Jenny. I can see everything ye want.

She’d made that mistake with her grandfather, too—thinking he’d come to save her and make her safe and give her a home. But she’d been only six. You’d think twenty years of living would have knocked the starlight and wishes out of her.

“Is there something wrong, Jennet?” Her grandfather’s rough voice wrenched her back to reality. A crease of worry furrowed his brow, surprising her.

“No.” Worrying a dying man wasn’t something she intended to do. She smoothed the blankets, tucking the edge under his arms. “I should probably go.”

“Don’t treat me like a child.” His hand grabbed hers. “And you’re not going.”

Her cousin coughed. “I have some business to discuss—”

“Edward and Helena are.”

The gruff words sank into the room. Her cousin and his wife straightened, consternation crossing both of their faces. “Grandfather,” Edward marched forward with a staunch step. “Jennet has done her duty to the family and now we must plan—”

“Go away.” The old man glared from his bed.

Jen moved her other hand across her mouth, shielding a wry smile. Lloyd Fellowes might be dying, but good cousin Edward would have to wait a while more before gaining the reins of the family empire.

Helena arched an aristocrat brow. “This isn’t what I expected.”

“Jennet and I have some things we need to discuss.” Closing his eyes, he laid his bald head on the plush pillow the private hospital provided. “Then, Edward, you can come in and finish talking about business.”

Her cousin might be a touch smarmy, yet he was also smart. “Certainly, Grandfather.” He clutched his wife’s arm and strode toward the door. “Let us know when you’re done.”

The door slid shut behind them.

“The boy is shrewd, I’ll give him that.”

She stared at her grandfather in surprise and met a gaze as grey as hers.

“But there’s something missing in him.” He grunted, a sound of disappointment. “I’ve come to see that during the last few months.”

She had no idea what to say. Edward had always been the Fellowes’ pride and joy. All the cousins knew that and had accepted the consequences of that determination.

“Looking at death does something to you.” Grandfather’s gnarled hand slid back and forth across the silk coverlet. “Makes a man take a second look at things.”

His other hand opened, revealing the simple cardboard box she’d placed the ring in before coming to the hospital. He nudged the top off and the glaring light above his head caught the edge of the ruby, sending brilliant shafts of crimson onto his hands.

“There it is,” he breathed.

She’d hated what she’d done to Cameron Steward. He’d done a share of deceit himself, but nothing compared to what she’d done. Arriving at his doorstep intent on subterfuge, pretending to be something she was not, lying to him and his son the entire time she’d been there. She’d hated herself as the train drew out of Edinburgh headed for the county of Kent in southeast England. The hours had slipped by as the hate seeped into every bone, every particle of her blood.

The expression on her grandfather’s face right now, though, made all the self-hate she carried inside worth it.

He plucked the ring out of the box and laid it on his palm. “I haven’t seen it in years, but I’d know it anywhere.”

“It’s important to you.”

Glancing at her, he barked a laugh. “I can see in your eyes you think it’s important to me because of family tradition.”

Lloyd Fellowes had drilled the importance of family, and family heirlooms, and family traditions, right into the center of her brain. She no longer agreed with him on most of it, still, she understood. “Yes.”

“In this case, Granddaughter, you’d be wrong.”

She stared at him.

“As I said, looking at death does something to a man.” He looked at the ring again. “I’ve come to some conclusions that have surprised me.”

Thinking it might be wise to sit, she pulled a plush chair to the bedside.

“Let’s talk about your mother.”

His words shivered across her skin. “All right.”

“She was my favorite child.” The slate of his gaze blurred with memories. “I know you’re too soft-hearted to ever tell that to your uncles.”

“True.” She snuck a hand into his like she had as a child, before she’d been told it wasn’t proper.

He clutched her instead of rejecting her, surprising her once more. “I still believe her choice of your father, a Scottish nobody, was foolish.”

Jen froze. She didn’t remember much of her father or her mother. But she did remember how he swung her into the air when he came home from his work as a truck driver. And she did hold memories of her mother’s gentle touch and quiet voice.