Lord of the Isles: International Billionaires VIII: The Scots (30 page)

“Dad.” She glanced around for a hideout. “I think I’ll do some browsing.”

“Don’t ye want to greet Iain?” Her father frowned. “Don’t ye think it might be a good time to have a chat with him?”

“Not now.” Glancing at the castle’s front steps again and noting that gaze was swinging their way, she dodged behind a stall filled with a selection of woolen scarves. “Remember your promise.”

Her father grunted. “And don’t be leaving for the cottage until ye talk to me.”

She hadn’t promised him that. As soon as he stomped off toward the vendor selling hot toddies, she whisked down one lane of stalls toward the open gate.

“Lilly Graham.” A plump hand grabbed on to the edge of her coat, stopping her flight. “Aren’t ye a sight for sore eyes.”

Turning, she confronted a wall of women. Mrs. Ciste and Mrs. Solas and Mrs. Butler stood in a straight line, beaming at her with friendly eyes. She wanted to ignore them and scram, but she didn’t want to hurt their feelings because she was worried about her own. “Hi, ladies.”

“Your dad has been talking to everyone about ye coming here for the holiday.” Mrs. Solas clapped her hands in glee.

Everyone?

Like Iain?

A shiver of anxious worry slithered across her skin. Straining her head, she looked over the tops of the women’s heads to the castle steps.

Crap.

Her dad stood right by the McPherson, chatting away, his face alive with excitement. If her father broke his promise, she was going to throw him into the sea or cut him into small slices and feed him to the fishes.

Mrs. Butler patted her shoulder, yanking Lilly’s attention back to the women. “I’m thinking there is a lovely surprise waiting for ye tonight.”

There was that word again.

Surprise
.

Her shivers turned to a shudder.

She glanced at the castle steps. Both men had disappeared into the crowd. She could assume that was a good thing or she could listen to her instincts that were screaming at her to run. “Ladies, it’s been nice to see you—”

“I have no doubt ye will handle the hubbub surrounding the announcement with your usual grace and charm.” Mrs. Ciste’s jowls jiggled as the strange words rolled from her mouth.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, as she gave their smiling faces a frown. “I need—”

“Well, well,” Mrs. Butler cooed. “Here he is himself to clear your confusion up.”

“Lilly.” The voice wasn’t her dad’s, though it did have the same accent. But this voice rang through the crowds, through her ears, into her soul like a burr of Scotland that would cling to her forever.

Her heart stuttered to a stop. Her luck had run out.

Swinging away from the voice, she made for the front gate.

“Och.” Strong hands swept her to a stop. “Naw, ye don’t.”

“Let me leave.” She kept her gaze on the bridge leading from the castle, leading far from him.

“I don’t think so.” Twirling her around, he took her into his brawny arms. “Look at me,
donas
.”

“No.” She folded her arms in front of her, aware of how close her secret was from being exposed. If he moved her another inch closer, he’d know. “Let me down.”

“I’m thinking ye might like to see the inside of my home again.” He hefted her weight as if he were settling her in before marching toward the castle. Or maybe he was surprised at the extra weight? “Ye used to be quite interested in my antiques and such.”

Nerves twitched all over. “No. I don’t want to see anything. I’m not interested any longer.”

“There’s a wee bit of difference now.” He sounded winded. “You’ll be surprised.”

Did she really weigh that much more?

“I don’t care.” She tightened her muscles, trying to pull far from his heat, trying to curve into a ball to protect their baby. “I want to go back to my dad’s cottage.”

“
Shite
,” he muttered. Then, his body straightened and he began to move forward toward the castle with her still in his embrace. “I’m not done with ye yet.”

Yet. What the heck did that mean?

“I’m not interested in whatever you want to show me.” She risked a glance at his face before she could stop herself.

His dear, handsome face.

He stared straight ahead, his jaw firm, his porcelain skin flushed. His sky-blue eyes were clear in the firelight and there were no circles under them.

He looked wonderful. He looked well.

Accomplished without any of her help.

“Iain,” she whispered. “Please let me down.”

His beautiful mouth firmed, but he ignored her, instead, pushing through the laughing, cheering crowds surging around them.

“He’s done a fair bit of work on the castle,” her dad stated by their side, his voice cheery. “You’ll be impressed, Lil.”

She was already horribly impressed. All this work on his island. All the time and attention given towards Fingal, towards the happy villagers, towards the new commerce and energy pulsing through the island. All of this coming from him.

The McPherson had recovered himself and everything else in his kingdom.

All by himself.

Without any of her help at all.

Bursting into tears wouldn’t be a good thing to do. It would hurt her dad and fluster Iain and break her pride in two. Lilly bit her lip instead, and forced her focus onto her hands. Hands that covered her most important secret. If he found out now, there’d be no stopping him. She could see what a forceful, impressive Lord of the Isles did when he was motivated.

He’d roll right over her and destroy her forever.

They advanced through the crowd, past the foyer where a group of young lads were caroling, through the hallway going past her favorite room. The place sparkled—gleaming furniture and chandeliers glowed upon a cadre of villagers playing cards and sipping ale. She stuffed gasp after gasp down her throat, because she didn’t want to have him stop and show her more of his brilliance and make her even more miserable.

He’d recovered.

Himself. His castle. His island.

He didn’t need her at all.

She got dropped to her feet in a sudden thump. The great hall of the castle was filled with an enormous Christmas tree, glittering with gold and silver ornaments. Above the blazing fire hung the portraits of his father and mother, beaming down on the crowd circling several long oak tables filled with food. Roasted goose and turkey. Slabs of sliced roast beef and ham. Bowls of gravy, mixed in with heaping mounds of fresh raspberries and blackcurrants. Small tables dotted the hall, filled with chattering, feasting villagers. In the center of the great room, right in front of the fire, a circle of dancers swung in and out of each other’s arms in a stately jig.

“Would ye like me to feed ye again?” Iain’s voice filled with forced humor. “Ye used to like that a lot, if I remember correctly.”

“I’m not hungry.” Tugging on her coat, she pulled it down to her hips and avoided meeting his gaze. “I want to go home.”

Home to her dad’s cottage and home to New York and far from this home she no longer wanted.

“Ye aren’t going to cooperate, are ye?” he snarled.

Snarled? Jerking her head up, she stared at him.

He sneered. “Well, I’m not going to slink away, even if that’s what ye want.”

“I don’t want you to—”

“I’m going to do this. I promised myself I would do this no matter what.” A flash of dark pain went through his eyes before he straightened his shoulders.

She wanted to reach out to him and touch him, but she might grab onto him and never let him go. She had to give him something, though. Some string of words that would tell him she was impressed. He’d done well. She respected him, honored him for what he’d become.

A hero.

Just not hers.

Lilly glanced away, not wanting to look at who she couldn’t have. “Iain, I think what you’ve done—”

“Come here.” His hand grabbed her own, and before she could object, she found herself in the middle of the circle of dancers.

They all stopped and smiled.

“What are you doing?” Looking around, she noticed her dad smiling from the edge of the crowd. Mrs. Butler stood with Mrs. Solas, a wide grin on both of the women’s faces.

“I’m doing what I need to do.” His other hand came to her shoulder and he steered her to face him.

She kept her gaze on the stone floor, not willing to stare at him and see how far he’d come without her help.

The crowd encircling the dancers went silent.

A naked, male knee landed on the floor. His hand grabbed hers again.

Horror sliced through her depression. She jerked her gaze to his.

The blue of his eyes was dark against his white skin. His mouth appeared tortured, taut and tight.

“No, Iain. Don’t—”

“I promised myself.” His grip tightened on her as he slid a purple box out of his coat.

A ring box. An engagement ring.

“Lilly,” he intoned, his voice hoarse and rushed. “Will ye—”

Swinging around, she glared at her father. “You told him!”

Her dad’s pleased smile fell from his face, replaced by one of dismay. “Lil—”

“Told me what?” Iain’s grasp hardened, pulling her off kilter.

She turned to glare at him. “I won’t. Not ever. Do you hear me?”

“Aye.” He dropped her hand, his beautiful mouth going slack. “I hear ye well enough.”

Freed from his clutch, she swung away from the awful scene, scrambling through the dancers, past the gaping villagers, round the crowds of tourists. She needed to leave. Right now. She needed to never come here again or she’d break in two and never, ever recover.

How could her dad have betrayed her trust like this?

And how, how could Iain ever think she’d accept his hand when he offered it only because of his sense of responsibility?

Brushing her tears off her cheeks, Lilly raced through the fair crowds and stumbled past the front gate. She’d find someone to take her to Oban tonight. If she offered enough money to someone, they would take her. Far from here.

Forever.

The crowd thinned to nothing as she ran. She came to the bridge, the rugged stones making it hard for her to gain any speed, her tears making it hard to see in front of her. But she kept pushing herself to go faster, farther.

“
Donas
. Stop.”

I
ain thought
his heart had already broken.

Then, she turned.

“Ah, Jesus.” He fisted his hands before he made the mistake of reaching for her again. “Lilly.”

Tears streaked her cheeks. Her hands fisted, too, as if she were prepared to fight. She stared at him, hurt and anger and fear swirling in the sea of her eyes. What had he done that was so awful? The only thing he’d done was kneel before her in front of his people and offered himself to her.

Was that so bad? Was he so bad?

“I wanted to show ye.” He waved his hand in a defeated sweep. “Show ye what could happen on the island if a man made some plans.”

“Plans.” She spit the word out.

“Aye.” He remembered that last morning together and how he’d mishandled the entire situation. “I was hoping to surprise ye, but perhaps that wasn’t a good idea.”

“I don’t like surprises.” Her tears came faster.

His Lilly didn’t like surprises?

That surprised him. She seemed to dance along with life, happy to encounter new people and places. Wasn’t it her job to embrace the new and exciting? Wouldn’t it naturally include a few surprises on the way?

Yet she’d settled down. She’d bought a place. She’d resigned from her exciting job.

Did this mean she’d changed completely? She appeared so utterly unhappy, nothing like the lovely lass he’d fallen for four months ago. What had gone wrong? She’d rejected him with incredible brutality, something he’d never thought to experience with her. She’d screamed at her da, something he’d never thought to see her do. And now she appeared as if she were about to crumble, as if she were about to give up.

The
donas
was made of sunshine and light, bright smiles and shiny optimism. The
donas
loved people when they were basically unlovable. The
donas
never gave up.

Confusion threatened to overwhelm him.

“You don’t have to do anything for me, do you understand?” Her breath hitched, yet her gaze never wavered. “I can do everything on my own.”

“Everything?” His confusion deepened. “Why would ye want to do everything on your own?”

Her face twisted into an angry scowl. “I’m not interested in letting Iain Arrogant McPherson take care of me.”

He’d imagined they’d take care of each other. He’d imagined she’d help him take care of his islands with her boundless enthusiasm. He’d imagined they’d eventually have some small lads and lasses of their own they’d both take care of.

Why would she object to that?

Because she didn’t love him. Because he still wasn’t worthy, even after all the work he’d done to improve himself and his islands. Because she might have settled, yet she clearly didn’t want to settle with him.

He coughed to hide the cry of bitter disappointment boiling in his throat.

“Nothing to say?” Marching right into his personal space, she slapped a hand in the middle of his chest. “Then go back to your stupid castle and stay out of my life.”

She pushed him.

Pushed him.

Rage rushed inside him, twining around his pain and disappointment. Before she could push him again, he grabbed her hands and jerked her into his arms.

She gasped and went still.

For a moment, he thought he’d hurt her and he wanted to howl in frustration. Then a new reality crashed down on him, stunning him into incoherence.

A bump.

That was a bump in her stomach thumping on his lower abdomen.

Before he could grasp what this meant, she tore herself from his arms and started to run across the bridge. The bridge with its stony pathway and rough edges. An ancient crosswalk he had on his list of things to upgrade in the new year. An uneven lane a pregnant woman should not be running on.

Pregnant?

Jesus.

“Stop right now,” he bellowed.

She kept running.

“Damn ye,
donas
,” he bellowed once more, before lunging into a run himself.

He caught her at the top of the bridge. Caught her elbow, and then her shoulder, and finally, he wrapped a quivering arm around her waist.

And knew for sure.

Pregnant.

He went from confused to confounded. Then to crazed.

“Were ye thinking,” he snarled into her ear, “of letting me know about my child at some point?”

Her whole body froze. “What?”

His hands tightened around her waist, angry betrayal ripping through his heart. “Or were ye thinking I wasn’t worthy of knowing at all?”

She jerked in his arms, her head twisting to meet his glare. In the dark of the night, he couldn’t make out what was in her eyes. Still, she radiated confusion with the tense line of her jaw and the crease of her brows. “But you already know.”

“How the hell would I know?” He thought he might explode with fury. “Ye took yourself off in one
shite
second and didn’t even give me a chance to figure anything out before ye were gone from the island. And ye never came back. Ye never called or emailed or wrote me a damn letter.”

“You already know.” She struggled in his tense grip. “Let me go, Iain.”

“Let me go, Iain,” he sing-songed, his voice thick with animosity.

“You’re being—”

“Let’s talk, Iain, she says.” Leaning closer, he took in her lemony, spicy scent with reluctant need because what he wanted to do was shake her in anger. “But ye didn’t talk at all, not really. Other than to throw another offer in my face.”

She glanced at him again, her frown fierce. “I didn’t throw anything in your face, even if I wanted to. I merely laid out my options.”

“Your options.” With one arm, he kept her tight to him while one hand swept over the bump. “Your options, lovely Lilly, have gone down to one.”

“I knew you would do this,” she screeched.

A hard jab of her elbow into his stomach knocked the breath out of him and she used his shock to pull loose.

“Don’t ye go anywhere,” he wheezed. “We’re not done.”

“We are so done.” Yanking around to face him, she folded her arms in front of her like she needed to protect his baby from himself. “I knew this is what you’d do. Go all responsible on me.”

“I am responsible.”

“You are not.” She flew at him, slapping his bicep with her palm before jamming her face right next to his, their noses almost touching. “I told you I had it handled.”

“Clearly, ye did not, though.” He glared at her, trying not to notice how pretty her mouth was in the dim light. “Which means ye lied to me.”

His words deflated her attitude. Taking a step away from him, her pretty mouth twisted. “You’re right about that. You deserve an apology.”

Throwing his head back, he closed his eyes. “I don’t want an apology, dammit. It happened. We’re going to have a baby—”

“You don’t need to worry—”

“I’m not worried.” He forced himself to look at her when he told her his truth. “I’m glad.”

“Glad?” A scowl swept across her mouth. “More like just feeling as if you need to take care of this, too.”

“Aye.” He kept his hands to himself, although what he wanted to do, now that reality had seeped into his soul, was sweep her into his arms. Take her up to his sanctuary and pamper her. Feed her and love her. And dammit, care for her. “I’ll admit it. I want to take care of ye and the baby.”

“Mr. Responsibility.” The words were laced with pain.

“Why is that so bad?” Before she could object, he caught her hand in his. “Why don’t ye like who I am?”

“Oh, Iain.” She burst into tears.

“
Shite.
” The hell with it. He did what he wanted to do and swept her into his arms. Maybe she didn’t like him much, yet she still needed comforting. “Come on then, let it all go and I’ll be right here.”

With a sob, she leaned on his shoulder, her tears wetting the wool of his suit coat.

He didn’t mind. In the end, she was here again. Here in his arms again. He couldn’t understand what the drama was about, really. She was pregnant with his baby. He loved her, and even though she didn’t share the same feelings, he could live with that for the baby’s sake. The only thing she had to do was stay. That would be enough for him.

She sniffled into his neck. “I hate you.”

“Och.” His heart trembled with hurt.

He didn’t think she meant the words though. She’d been in his bed and had told him she was his friend. That was enough to build a marriage on, wasn’t it? If for no other reason than the baby.

Lifting her head, she eyed him, tears lingering. “I suppose I can’t blame my dad.”

“Huh?”

“I knew he’d eventually spill. It was only a matter of time.”

“Spill?” His confusion simmered to life once more.

“I want you to know,” she patted him on his shoulder, stirring his inevitable irritation. “I’ll let you see the baby as much as you want.”

“
Let
?” His grip hardened, making her yelp. “As much as I want?”

“I have a place.” She met his murderous glare with a stout one of her own. “I bought a place in New York.”

“Your place is here,” he shot back, filled with determined resolve. “With me.”

“No.” Her hand whispered along the line of his shoulder and then, patted him again. “I won’t let you do it. I love you too much.”

I love you too much.

His heart thudded into a jiggling dance. “Ye love me?”

This time, she didn’t meet his gaze. But even in the darkness, he still detected a flush on her cheeks. “Let me go.”

He’d never let her go now. Not for the rest of her life.

“Listen, Lil.” He ducked his head, trying to get her to look at him. “Listen.”

“If I listen, will you let me down?”

“Maybe.” Probably not.

She laughed, a wry sound. “All right. I’ll take my chances. I’m listening.”

“Look at me.”

“Iain Arrogant McPherson, Lord of the Isles, His Majesty, demanding I obey.” His courageous
donas
met his instant scowl with a feisty one of her own.

“I love ye.”

The flush drained from her cheeks, leaving her ghostly white. “Don’t do this.”

“Lilly Graham.” His frustration made his voice hoarse. “I love ye.”

“You’re only saying this because of the baby.” Her hands fisted in her lap, covering their child with her rejection.

He rushed on, trying to find the right words. “I fell in love with ye when ye first came to my door.”

“You did not.” Her jawline went taut.

“When ye were a tiny lass and I was a stupid boy.”

She jumped in his arms and her eyes went wide in surprise.

“I fell in love with ye all over again when ye charged into my castle and saved me from myself.”

“You’re grateful. I can understand that.” She patted him one more time.

“Stop patting me like a dog.” His hands tightened on her with growing frustration.

Her hand snapped away. “I’m sorry—”

“I’m not a dog,” he growled into her downcast face. “I’m a man.”

“I know.” Her lips compressed. “I’m well aware of that.”

“I’m a man who’s found his woman, and I’m not letting ye go.”

“I don’t need your—”

“I’ve gone to counseling,” he offered, his brain in a frenzy to find something she’d accept along with himself.

“Have you?” Meeting his gaze, she gave him a tentative smile. “That’s good.”

“It is good.” He shifted her in his arms, bringing her closer to his heart. “I aim to continue until I’m completely well.”

“Good, that’s good.” Her voice was gentle and kind and gave him hope.

“I worked hard these last few months.” He twirled around so they faced the castle. The light of the ongoing fair streamed from the open gate, the merry laughter and chatter of the friendly crowd reaching them on the bridge. “I have plans, lots of plans.”

“Plans.” Her voice dropped into a sigh.

Why was she sighing? Did she not like what he’d done for Somairie while she’d been gone? “Plans that include ye,” he stated with force, willing her to like his plans, willing her to accept him.

“Because now, there’s a baby.” Her pretty mouth drooped.

His frustration escalated, his blood roaring in his veins. If he couldn’t convince her, he’d lose her and lose any hope of happiness for the rest of his life. “My plans included ye long before I knew about the baby.”

“What?” Her head bobbed up. “What do you mean?”

“Why do ye think I had your da lure ye back to Somairie?”

“Had my dad lure…” she stuttered to a stop, her wide eyes pinned on his.

He finally let her go, placing her gently on the stone bridge’s edge because he was sure he’d caught her attention and she wouldn’t run off until he’d had his say. “I had him get ye here so I could show ye what I aim to be.”

“You don’t have to prove yourself to me.”

“I do.” He brushed her cheek with a trembling finger. “I know you’re reluctant to take the hand of an ex-drunk beast of a man.”

Her mouth dropped open.

“Still, I aim to prove to ye I’m more than that.”

“Iain.” She trailed her fingers down his arm to his hand and for the first time, her touch was one of a lover, not a friend or an enemy.

His heart chugged into a rapid beat.

“I knew you were more than that the very first time I came to the castle,” she added.

“Then I’m asking ye to take a chance on me.” He caught her hand before she could withdraw.

“Take a chance on you?” Her fingers curled into her palm, not threading through his as he wanted. “Because of the baby?”

“Naw.” He struggled to find the right words. “Because of us.”

Her delicate brows furrowed. “The baby—”

"Dammit.” Frustration and fear and ugly doubt raged inside him like a dolster. “This has nothing to do with the baby. Didn’t ye notice I was on my knees for ye before I knew about the baby?”

“That’s not true.” Her expression turned truculent. “My dad told you this evening and that’s why you proposed.”

“I just happened to have a fucking engagement ring in my pocket?” he bellowed at her stubborn intractability. “Is that what ye think?”

She didn’t retreat in the face of his wrath. Which was why he needed her, needed her at his side for the length of his life. Someone who stood by him, and up to him, and for him. Only she had ever done that.