Lord of the Isles: International Billionaires VIII: The Scots (23 page)

T
he lass was
hopeless at paddling.

A big, brilliant slap of affection hit Iain across his heart. Her blonde curls bobbed in the wind, her slender shoulders bowed into her work, her lush tush eased up and down on the seat with every stroke.

Hopeless.

And completely, utterly delicious.

Yes, a man could pretend what he felt for her was lust. Merely a male wanting a willing female. But he’d lost the ability to pretend somewhere along his path through life and he knew it wasn’t lust.

Making love.

His words echoed inside him, just as they’d echoed against the rock wall where he’d tried to leave something of himself behind with his pitiful childhood engravings.

You didn’t leave for good, Iain. You’re standing right here.

He stared across the waves toward Somairie. Towards the McPherson castle. She was right. He was right here. Right here where he’d grown up. Where his da had grown and died. Where his ancestors had ruled and loved and wept.

He was still here.

“I don’t think I’m very good at this,” she piped into his thoughts, driving away any melancholy in her own perky way.

“You’re not.”

Glancing over her shoulder at his response, she gave him a fierce frown. Then, she laughed. Her curls bounced, her pretty mouth opened, her eyes danced.

He felt it rise inside him: the unwanted happiness, the unexpected joy, the delirious reality of being alive.

He laughed with her.

Their laughter twined around each other’s, spilling onto the ocean and the land, breaking something free in him so he felt as if he needed to fill himself with something more and better.

Her laughter finally trailed off and his did too.

“That’s more like it.” She winked before turning back to look out at his sea.

He wanted this. He wanted her.

Yet, what was
this
exactly?

And did she want him, too?

Sticking his paddle into the roll of the water, Iain frowned. Did she see him as a temporary man? One of many men she’d probably danced with and teased and had some fun. Hell, he was probably right—she had a man in every country ready to take her. Ready to do anything she wanted.

Was he merely one more?

I mean, we made love.

She’d said those words so surely, with absolute certainty. As a man, the words and her certainty had shaken him. Scared him with such an immediate punch he’d been an arse and handed her some
shite
to protect himself until he figured his feelings out.

But she and his feelings weren’t the only things he had to figure out, were they?

He had to figure out himself.

Before he deserved her.

“I’m hungry again,” she called from the bow. “It must be all this exercise.”

He was hungry again, too. Hungry to see her naked and nibble on every inch of her peachy body he’d been unable to taste their first time. That first time was not going to be the last. Not if he had to encircle her with a moat and chain her to his bed.

“What are you going to cook for me tonight?”

Snorting, he managed to stifle his smile just in case she turned around. “I’m thinking it’s your turn to cook.”

“Nope.” She splashed the paddle into the water, not making a dent in their journey. “You’re the cook in this relationship.”

Relationship
.

A frantic thrill went through him.

She saw they had a relationship, and all he had to do was figure himself out fast enough, fast enough that she wouldn’t leave at the end of this month. Fast enough that she’d see what he could offer her.

“Am I, then.” He dug his own paddle in and they surged closer to Somairie. “And what would that make ye?”

“Hmm.” Cocking her head, she pondered.

He could practically see the wheels in that blonde bob twirling, looking for something to tease him with. “Och. Don’t even think about it.”

“No?” Turning again, she looked at him with arched brows.

“Naw.” He flexed his arms, using the stroke of the paddle to highlight the muscles he knew she liked. The reward was watching her eyes grow dark with passion. That was one thing he could give her. That, and so much more. “I’m thinking as I’m the Lord of the Isles, I should assign ye your role.”

“Your Majesty.”

“Aye.” He gave a quick glance at his castle as they sailed by and felt…okay. A bit unsure, yet essentially, okay. Unlike the time he’d marched away from his da’s funeral and took in the splendor and weight of his home. Took in the history and heritage. Then, ten months ago, he’d ached with regret and knew he’d never be able to live up to what his da wanted and his ancestors demanded.

But his da was dead. The rest of his family, too.

And he was still here. With Lilly.

Anything was possible with Lilly.

“I’m waiting.” She tapped impatient fingers on her leg, a twinge of a smile edging those provocative lips.

“I’m thinking ye should be the
donas
.”

“The
donas
.” Her gaze narrowed. “I thought I was already that. You’ve been calling me that for days.”

Days. Just days he’d had her. How could that be? He felt as if she’d been inside him and his life for as long as Scotland had existed.

“Now it’s official, though.” He kept his gaze on hers, hoping she’d understand what lay beneath the surface meaning of the word. “I’ve proclaimed it.”

“Okay.” She pulled her paddle from the water and twisted around to face him as if she instinctively knew this was going to be important. “Tell me what it means.”

“Devil.” He pursed his mouth. “Demon.”

Those sea-green eyes flashed with instant hurt and he wanted to howl. How could he explain to her the name had turned from a curse into a caress, if only inside his head?

He pulled his paddle from the water, too, and let them float. To where, he wasn’t sure, but he needed all his concentration to figure out how to make her understand.

“Imp,” he offered. “Brat.”

The hurt on her face eased. “I suppose those labels are a bit better.”

“Lilly.” He glanced at the fisted hands in his lap, knowing he had to give more. “When ye came into my life, I was in bad shape.”

“Yes, you were.” Her voice drifted across the canoe, soft and quiet.

“And I transferred my own rage at myself onto ye.”

“Ah.”

“In reality, however, your devilish ways woke me up. Got me going again.”

“Iain.”

He kept his focus on his hands as they tightened, his nails biting into his skin. “Ye were a demon who wouldn’t let me go.”

“True.” She moved in her seat. The canoe rocked.

“And I thank ye for it.” Finally, he lifted his head and met her gaze. “Now, you’re an imp and a brat, but I…”

She cocked her head once more. “But you…?”

I love ye
.

That’s what he should say, if he were a brave man. He’d been a brave man for years and years. Why couldn’t he be brave now, when it was so much more important?

“Like having me around?” she slipped in before he could gather his courage.

“Right.” Coughing, he pulled back his confession. Maybe she didn’t want it. Maybe she didn’t need it. Maybe it was true he wasn’t brave any longer.

Still, he could become brave again. For her.

If given some time. Just a bit of time.

The lass gave him a jaunty smile that told him he’d been forgiven before twirling around in her seat and sticking her paddle into the sea. “Let’s go, Your Majesty. I want to get to the castle.”

Iain dug into the water because he didn’t know what else to say. The moment had slipped by and he didn’t know how to bring it back, or even if he wanted to. She’d forgiven him, though, apparently. That was good, wasn’t it? The memory of what she’d said on the beach rose inside him.

You deserve to be forgiven
.

His hands tightened on the wood of the paddle.

No, he didn’t deserve to be forgiven. Not by his men. Not by Donal. Not by her.

Yet, she’d done it anyway.

I forgive you, love
.

A clot of immediate tears clogged his throat. God damn, he wished he could face Donal and his men one last time and plead for their forgiveness. But he hadn’t had to plead for hers at all. She’d given it freely.

Would his cousin and his men have done the same?

Aye
, his spirit whispered to his soul.
Aye
.

Iain paddled faster, not knowing if he should believe what was inside him. Not knowing if this was the way to get back to being whole. Because, God, he was not whole and strong and worthy of her love.

Worry twisted in his gut.

What did he really have to offer Lilly Graham? He was a washed up, drunk ex-soldier with anger management issues. Sure, he had money, but was he using it for any good, or letting it sit and do nothing? His islands were going to hell—a hell he’d wanted only a few short days ago. He had no purpose in his life, no plan for how to spend the rest of his days.

Whereas Lilly was filled with life. She loved her job and was apparently wildly successful at it. She traveled the world, had tons of friends and probably a dozen men who wanted her as a lover.

What the hell did he have to offer her?

The canoe bumped onto the sand of their beach and she scrambled out, getting her sneakers and the hems of her jeans wet.

“Look what you’ve done,” he muttered, wishing he hadn’t been so muddled in his head to the point he hadn’t issued her some orders so she’d stay dry. “You’re all wet.”

“I get wet a lot around you.” She waved his concern away with a breezy move. “I’m used to it.”

Immediate guilt pounded inside him. “I should be taking better care of ye.”

She stopped and stared at him, startled. “Iain. You don’t have to take care of me.”

But he wanted to. Desperately. Still, look what a failure he’d been the last time he’d taken care of things. Ordered people about. Done the wrong thing. Maybe the lass was right to not want to trust him with her care.

Jumping from the boat, he dragged it out of the water, expressing his frustrated confusion by wrenching at the hard wooden curve of the craft.

“Hey.” She came right to his side and patted his arm. “I can take care of myself.”

The pat and the words created a firestorm of hurt inside. His turmoil boiled over. Batting her hand away, he leaned in and sneered. “Didn’t I tell ye not to touch me that way?”

Instant regret flooded her eyes. “I’m sorry. I forgot.”

Growling, he turned to the canoe and yanked it farther towards the shed.

“I can touch you in other ways when we get back to your bedroom.” The words came out tentatively as if she hadn’t a clue how he still burned for her.

He stopped. Remembering something.

Something that roared into his mind with a howl.

His bedroom. Where the condoms he’d ordered were hidden in the bottom drawer of his dresser.

Condoms.

He hadn’t brought any with him today because not in the furthest recesses of his mind had he imagined lovely Lilly would oblige, much less initiate.

There’d been hope that eventually…but not today.

On his island.

Making love.

He’d been too messed up in his head, too consumed with emotions, to even think of the danger until now. He’d done the same damn thing to Lilly as he’d done to his men. Put her at risk because his damn emotions had overtaken him.

“Fuck,” he snarled. “Goddammit all to hell.”

* * *

L
illy jumped back
from his obvious anger.

What the heck had happened?

A couple of minutes ago, he’d nearly torn her heart out with his confession. The nickname had hurt, yet after he explained and after he’d offered her compliments that made her want to cry, she’d willingly take on that name for the rest of her life. She’d wanted to scurry across the length of the canoe and hold him in her arms. Only the slight fear they might fall right into the sea had stopped her.

Now, the man stood in front of her, vibrating with rage.

“What?” She took a cautious step away from him. “What’s wrong?”

Throwing his head back, he closed his eyes, while his wild hair blew around his face. “Tell me you’re on birth control.”

His words hit her sideways, making her stumble. She’d thought of their lovemaking as something profoundly special, something that changed her whole life. The little patch of grass on his island had turned into heaven and something of its power still lingered inside of her.

But his words, his demand, brought her back to reality in a sharp plunge.

“Tell me.” He kept his eyes closed.

She’d taken the pill since she’d been sixteen at her mom’s insistence. Her mom had had this crazy idea that Lilly had to be saved from the awful fate of falling pregnant and marrying a man she didn’t love.

So, she’d taken the pill.

With her lifestyle, she’d thought about getting an IUD or an implant, but the pills worked to regulate her periods and she’d never gotten around to doing anything else. Every year, she went to her doctor and got checked and got a new prescription. The India trip had come at her unexpectedly, though, making her cancel her doctor’s appointment. She’d figured it wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t like she was going to fall madly in love in India over two weeks, or when she slept in her dad’s quaint little cottage.