Lion of Caledonia: International Billionaires VII: The Scots (24 page)

“You’re kidding.” Shock rang in his friend’s voice. “Did she put her real name on the return?”

“She’s not that stupid. Sent anonymously. But I have my ring in my hand.” Pacing in front of his desk, he kept his impatience on a short leash. “I just got it now and the postal code says Ashford. Where is Ashford?”

“Kent. Don’t ye know your English geography?” His friend hummed. “Wait a minute. That’s interesting.”

“Geography was your job when we traveled.” He stopped, his gut quivering. “What’s interesting?”

“There was a news story a wee bit ago, one a friend of mine was working on for the
Guardian
.” His voice grew muffled, as if he were moving away. Then his voice came back, sharp and keen, exactly as he sounded when he’d found the tidbit he needed to pull a story together for both of them. “If I remember correctly it was about an estate and its inheritance. Didn’t pay much attention to it, because old goats die every day.”

“Old goats.” Every muscle in his body went taut.

“In this case, an old goat in Kent.” The ping of a computer starting echoed into the phone. “Give me a second here to look it up.”

“Look what up?” Stifling an urge to howl his irritation, he slapped the gem on his desk.

“The obit. And the accompanying story.” His friend ignored the edge of fevered agitation in Cam’s voice. “Here it is.”

“Tell me.”

“Sir Lloyd Fellowes. Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Garter. Peer of the realm. Loyal subject and friend of the Queen. Baron of Fellowes Hall.”

“Fellowes Hall.” Cam glared at the computer sitting on the desk, in front of where his mouse once sat. He damned himself for never learning how to use the thing. “Where is that?”

“Wait.” Tre muttered under his breath. “The old goat died about a month ago, and left pretty much everything to one granddaughter.”

“Granddaughter.” Jenny?

“The story states there was a family controversy brewing about the whole thing.” The click and clatter of keystrokes broke through. “Yeah. One older male cousin thought he’d get the prize and was angry when he didn’t.”

“What the hell does this have to do with my finding Jenny?”

“Fellowes Hall is the largest estate in Kent and sits near Calehill Road.”

“So what?” The turbulent mix of emotions inside him threatened to burst. “What the hell does all this mean?”

“Ye never were one for being patient, were ye?” Tre didn’t seem to be troubled by his blasted questions. “Think, dobber. Whoever has shielded Jennet Douglas from our intent hunting has to be smart and very rich.”

He grunted. It was true. Usually, he and his friend could hunt down anything. Not this time.

“Fellowes was not only a peer, he built an empire in…” Tre trailed off. “Here it is. An empire in financial services and trucking.”

“So?”

“He’d be the kind of man who’d have a whole staff of solicitors.”

“Okay. Fine.” He paced to the window and glared at the loch. “Again, I say, so what?”

“Hold on.” Tre’s voice rose in excitement. “There are photos. At the funeral.”

Cam’s heart froze.

“There ye are, Jen.” His friend’s voice went soft. “Standing right by the coffin looking like the lovely, conniving lady ye are.”

“She’s my Jenny?” His heart thumped into life in a galloping, frenzied beat.

“She’s Jennet Douglas Fellowes,” Tre announced. “And she’s now a millionaire.”

“
M
s. Fellowes
.” Her housekeeper, Mrs. Evans, huffed as she toddled around the latest pile of dirt that had been delivered just this morning.

“Ms. Douglas,” Jen corrected her with a firm note.

During the last week, she’d made some decisions. Once this garden was completed to her satisfaction and after some needed repairs were done to the roof, she was going to open Fellowes Hall to the public. The house in Bath and the Mayfair townhouse were on sale, the proceeds to go to the Royal Horticultural Society. She also was going to permanently change her last name back to what it should have been all along.

Edward and the rest of the family were complaining loudly about the sales and the public opening of the hall. But Mr. Briggs had taken care of them. There really wasn’t anything they could do. Jennet Douglas owned the estate and Jennet Douglas was following her heart.

“Yes, sorry.” Mrs. Evans batted her hands together, her flustered frown growing deeper. “There’s a man.”

Jen straightened from her crouch over the rose bed. Mrs. Evans was new, yet up until now, she’d always appeared to be completely in control. Something or someone had clearly upset her serene existence. “A man?”

“He’s quite determined and…loud.”

“Loud.” Frowning, she tugged off her garden gloves. “Is it my Cousin Edward?”

“No, Ms. Douglas.” The housekeeper brushed her frizzy brown hair out of worried eyes. “I don’t know who he is. He wouldn’t say.”

She assumed it was some salesman or long-lost relative again. In the five weeks since she’d inherited the estate, she’d been approached by a horde of supposed financial planners, a woman claiming to be her cousin, and two men pledging undying love.

“Like all the others, tell him to go away.” Swiping the clumps of dirt off her jeans, Jen turned back to her vision for her grandmother’s garden. If she put a line of tea roses down the edge of the terrace, the colors next spring would be extraordinary. “You can take care of it, Evans.”

“I did tell him. I even closed the front door on him.” Her housekeeper flapped her hands in distress once more. “But he yelled through the door he wasn’t going until he talked to his Jenny.”

His Jenny
.

A trembling ache bloomed from the center of her heart, breaking it all over again. She’d been very busy during the last few weeks, and it had been a relief. She hadn’t had time to think of Scotland or her stupidity in falling in love with a man who didn’t do love and permanence. After she’d mailed the ring, she’d purposefully turned her attention to her new life. A life of endless responsibilities to the family heritage.

It couldn’t be him. Not Cameron Steward.

Sure, there’d been some publicity when her grandfather had died. She’d spent a few short minutes imagining Cam reading the news and riding to her rescue. Dreaming of ridiculous expectations, though, had stopped after a few days. And it had been weeks since the news reports.

She’d been careful when mailing the gem. She’d made sure her name wasn’t on the package. The temptation to write him a note trying to explain had been squashed. What did it matter? By this time, the fun-loving Cameron Steward had probably flitted from Amanda to another woman.

He couldn’t have found her because of the ring.

Why would he even want to? He had it back now.

“What should I do?” Evans waved her hand at the mansion standing behind her. “Should I call the police?”

Jen glanced past the waving hand to see a familiar figure pacing by the mews. The way the man moved, prowled, was instantly recognizable.

Shock raced through her body, making her stiffen.

The man
was
Cameron Steward. From the tight way he held his body and the taut pace of his steps, it became quite clear. He wasn’t here to rescue her and be her knight in shining armor. He was here because he was angry at her for taking the ring.

But she’d returned it to him within weeks.

Wasn’t that enough?

“Oh, no.” Her housekeeper glanced over her shoulder, following Jen’s stricken gaze. “The gall of the man. I’ll go and get some of the men to throw him off the grounds.”

He drew closer, and now Jen could see the power of his shoulders and thighs as he strode across the vast green grass of the lawn. All of the yearning she’d battled to suppress rose inside. The wish to taste his skin one more time, to be held in those strong arms, to feel safe.

Still, she wasn’t safe with Cam.

Her heart wasn’t, and from the look of him, her body wasn’t either.

She took a step away, wanting to run from this confrontation and run from the yearning.

“Don’t ye dare,” he roared from across the lawn. “Don’t ye dare run again, Jenny!”

“Goodness.” Evans jumped at the noise. “Does the man know you?”

Yes, he knew her well. And she knew him. If she tried to run from this, he’d follow her until he’d pinned her down.

She had stolen from him.

She owed him his pound of flesh.

Straightening her shoulders, she took in a long, slow breath. If he was here to yell at her for taking the ring, she’d hear him out. It was the least she could do. “I’ll take care of this. You can go back to the house.”

“Yes, Ms. Douglas.” The older woman scurried down the path leading toward the front of the house, making a large circle around the furious man approaching.

Jen could see his eyes now, the brown and gold both gleaming with animosity. His mouth, the mouth that had given her such pleasure with his kisses and such pain with the words he’d whispered to Amanda, was twisted into a tight grimace. “Stay right where ye are.”

“I’m not going to run.” She sucked in another breath.

“Well, that’s a change,” he snarled as he prowled right into her personal space. “We’ll have it out now, once and for all.”

He was sweating, the gleam of moisture on his neck making him appear to glow in the sunlight. The deep scent of him, crisp and dark, encircled her, drawing her, as it always did.

“All right.” She kept her gaze on his, meeting his frown and the anger in his eyes straight on. “I’m sorry I took the ring.”

Shock rippled through the gold and brown and he took a step back. “Are ye, then?”

“Yes.” She desperately wanted to reach out and soothe him, brush her palm along the dusky scruff on his jaw. Forcing the yearning away, she tightened her hands into fists. “I did it for my grandfather.”

“Your dead grandfather.” Cam jerked his head around, taking the estate in. Apparently, he accepted the fact she wouldn’t run, and he could take his eyes off of her for a moment. “The one that left ye everything.”

“Correct.” She knew by the look on his face, he wasn’t impressed with her newfound wealth. Yet, she’d known that about him before. He hadn’t been interested in his own wealth. Why should hers move him in the slightest? “Not that I wanted any of this.”

“No?” He swung back to glare at her again, his voice hardening. “I’m thinking any woman would want such a grand place. And do her best to get it.”

“Not me.” Jen kept her gaze on his, willing him to believe at least that. “Believe me.”

Shrugging finally as if he couldn’t be bothered to know if what she said was true, he glared out at the grounds once more. “Did he give ye his money because ye stole the ring for him?”

“I don’t think so.” She’d give him the complete truth even if he didn’t believe her. He deserved it. “But I’m not sure.”

“Your dear old grandfather couldn’t get the ruby from me in an honorable way.” He leaned in then, surrounding her with his big body and its heat and scent. “So he sent his wee granddaughter to steal it, instead.”

“Yes.” Her nails bit into her skin, yet she didn’t back away. “I’m sorry, Cam.”

Shock skittered across his face. “Are ye?”

“Yes. My only defense is my grandfather was dying and his last wish was to have the ring.”

“Have
my
ring.” He sneered at her. “Ye could have asked for it, Jenny. With your pretty face and your graceful ways, I probably would have been stupid enough to give ye the thing.”

“I couldn’t chance it.” She let herself glance away for a moment, wishing she’d taken the chance when she’d come to really know him. “I didn’t know you well enough at the beginning—”

“As if ye know me now,” he scoffed, his rich voice rusty and rancid.

Forcing herself, she stared at him. “And after I did know you, I couldn’t chance what you’d do if I told you what I wanted.”

His glare reminded her of hard stones. “Ye couldn’t trust me, is what you’re saying.”

“My grandfather didn’t have much time. What if you’d thrown me out or called the police?”

He grunted, a low, sour sound.

She pushed on, trying to make him understand. “Your ring was once my grandfather’s. He’d given it to a lover long ago and she never returned it.”

That stopped him. He stumbled back, a look of dawning realization making his mouth go slack. “My mother?”

“I think so. Though I can’t be sure.”

His two-toned eyes went opaque for a moment. Then they snapped back to life, filled with resentment once more. “That doesn’t excuse what else ye did. Ye didn’t just take a ring. Ye came into my home and lied to me over and over.”

“Yes.” This was becoming too painful, but she owed him. Even though he’d flitted onto Amanda, she’d been the one to actually lie. “I’m sorry for that, too.”

“You’re sorry ye charmed my son into loving ye?” The words spat from his hard mouth, laced with bitterness. “My Rob is still asking for ye.”

“I’m sorry.” Something welled in her throat, and she couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t a panic attack, though. It was grief. “I’m very sorry.”

“Not good enough.” His rough hands grabbed her arms, yanking her toward him. “Not good enough at all.”

“You have the ring now.” Keeping her gaze on his was torture, but she forced herself to do it. “If you want, I can write and explain to Rob.”

“Explain?” he roared right into her face. “Explain to the lad that ye didn’t mean any of it? That ye didn’t love him like he loved ye?”

“I love him, Cam.” Jen uncurled her fist and laid a hand on his heaving chest. Her pride was nothing compared to what she’d done to this man and his son. Coming into his home and stealing had been bad enough. Still, from the rage in his eyes, she’d stolen his son’s heart, too, if not his own. “I’ll come and visit him anytime you want me to.”

“Visit?” He shook her, then let her go as if the touch of her contaminated him. Turning, he glared at her garden. “Ye think I’ll let ye near Rob again?”

Tears clogged her throat, but she pushed them down. “I’ll do anything you want me to do.”

“Anything, eh?” He turned to look at her, his gaze now dull and glazed. “Then tell me.”

“Anything,” she whispered.

“Tell me if any of it was real.”

* * *

S
he was so pretty
, his Jenny. Not average at all.

How could he have forgotten the way the sunlight played in her hair, bringing the gold and honey strands to life? How could he have lost the memory of her misty-grey eyes welling with every one of her emotions? How could he have ever thought the reason he’d come to bloody England had been about yelling at her for taking a bloody ring?

His being here had nothing to do with the ring.

Not one little bit.

His question, a question he couldn’t contain inside himself anymore, seemed to have stunned her. His Jenny stepped back.

She’s not yours, dobber.

Cam clenched his jaw. “So none of it was, I take it.”

“I just told you.” She wrapped her arms around her, as if trying to protect herself from him. “I love your son.”

Kicking a piece of turf, he wished he could kick his son to hell and back. Not that the boy deserved it. His Rob had managed to gain Jenny’s heart, but not him, apparently.

That wasn’t Rob’s fault.

Then, with a blast, the memory returned. In his rage and pain during the last week, he’d forgotten the conclusions Tre and he had come to after the night of the bonfire. “I did nothing with Amanda,” he blurted.

“What?” A delicate frown creased her brows. Yet her eyes told him everything he needed to know. The mist had turned cool.

“That night of the bonfire.” He met her gaze, willing her to believe. “What ye saw was nothing.”

“Who said I saw anything?” Her tone was nonchalant. The whiteness of her knuckles as she clutched her sides told the real story.

“Ye saw Amanda and me having a chat about my not wanting to have sex with her.” His blunt statement fell between them.

“That’s not what it looked like to me.” The mouse wasn’t prone to feisty, but her words were edged with a close cousin.

“That’s why ye blocked me from your bedroom.” He prowled closer, yearning to grasp her in his arms and sweep her up. However, she’d object. He could see the rejection in the thin line of her mouth. “That’s why ye said no to me that night.”

“I said no because I was leaving the next day.” The grey of her eyes went to cold ice. “I said no because we’d had a bit of fun. That’s all.”

He stopped, his heart cooling to a block of ice. “A bit of fun?”