Quarterback's Secret Baby (Bad Boy Ballers)

by Imani King

  We walked back to Castle McLanald together, Anne peppering me with questions about America and me peppering her right back with questions about Scotland. By the time we walked through the front doors I had a feeling we could easily become friends - all the weirdness of the earlier discussion of her brother had dissipated and I assumed it was probably the jet-lag and the unfamiliar surroundings making me a little sensitive.

  Chapter 4

  I was roused from deep sleep the next morning by the distinctive sound of a helicopter. A helicopter? I sat up in bed and rubbed my eyes, confused and certain I was misinterpreting the noise. But it was a helicopter - I looked out the window just in time to see it slowly lowering itself behind one of the castle walls until it was out of sight.

  Up until that point it hadn't really occurred to me just how wealthy the McLanald clan was, or how different the lives of its members must have been compared to mine. I'd seen the castle and taken in the huge swathes of land surrounding it but somehow it hadn't quite sunk in that Laird Darach owned this place. He and his sister had both seemed surprisingly normal and neither of them was anything like the idea I had in my head of a European aristocrat - snooty, unfriendly and, perhaps most importantly: old. Anne was no older than twenty-five and Darach looked to be around thirty, maybe thirty-five at most.

  My thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. It was Mrs. Clyde.

  "Jennifer! Are you awake? Wee Cameron is back from London - I've got breakfast ready if you'd like to come down?"

  "Yes! I'll be right down!" I called back through the door, jumping out of bed to get ready.

  I hadn't been expecting the child to arrive so early in the morning, so I rushed through my shower, threw on the first clean clothes I found and hurried downstairs as fast as I could, worried that I'd screwed up by not being ready earlier.

  "Don't worry, lassie, there's time," Mrs. Clyde reassured me as I almost ran into her on her way out of the kitchen. "The Laird is playing in the courtyard with Cameron, you don't have to be there right away."

  I didn't want to eat breakfast, because I'm never hungry when I wake up too quickly, so I made my own way through the castle's halls and out to the courtyard. No one was around except Darach and Cameron - who I could see had inherited her father's pale blonde hair - so I held back for a few moments and watched them, slightly nervously. I've spent a lot of time around children - babysitting was my main source of income from the ages of fourteen until I went away to college but this wasn't a neighborhood toddler. This was the heiress to Castle McLanald and her sexy, self-assured father. I desperately wanted to make a good impression.

  "Jennifer!"

  Darach had spotted me hanging back behind one of the archways. Oh, God. Heat rose in my cheeks as I walked out into the courtyard to meet Cameron.

  She was adorable - a tiny little sprite in a white summer dress - and the spitting image of her father and her aunt. At first she sat shyly on Darach's lap, hiding her face against his broad chest and refusing to look at me directly when I greeted her. She soon warmed up, though, when I started asking her questions about her life - how old she was, where she lived, what her favorite food was. In fact within a few minutes she'd squirmed her way over to my lap and was busy twisting one of my dark curls around her fingers and taking her turn to ask me questions:

  "Why do you sound like that, Miss Robinson?"

  She'd obviously been told how to address me. I wanted to ask her to call me Jenny but the Laird was right there and I was worried he might disapprove, in spite of his earlier statement about disliking formality.

  "Because I'm not from Scotland. I'm from America."

  She turned to her father, eyes wide:

  "Daddy, I went to America!"

  "Yes you did, Cameron."

  Darach was attentive to his daughter, but sitting there next to him on fountain's stone ledge, I could feel his attention was also on me. I didn't acknowledge it because I didn't know what it meant - it was probably just the interest a good parent takes in the relationship between his child and her new nanny - but having his eyes focused on me was both nerve-wracking and strangely enjoyable. It was the first time I'd been so physically close to him, too, and the proximity actually made me feel small. I'm five foot eight and blessed with the kind of lush, generous curves that make some girls insecure and turn other girls into huge show-offs. I was neither of those things, but feeling petite next to a man was a new experience. I liked it. I liked it more than I should have. When the Laird told me and Cameron he had work to do I was almost relieved when he left, exhaling slowly when he was out of sight and relaxing for the first time in over an hour.

  "Did you see the loch Miss Robinson?"

  I told the little girl I had seen the loch the previous day, but that I wanted to see it again with her and she happily slipped her small hand into mine and showed me the way.

  Over the course of the next two days Cameron McLanald became my little shadow. Even when I was off-duty she insisted on being with me, which I didn't mind due to both my own lack of companionship and a certain fragility in the child that brought out my protective side. I told myself it was just that I hadn't been around little kids for a few years but the truth was Cameron was the most nervous four year old I'd ever met. When I told her she would be going to London the next weekend, to see her mother, she reacted by bursting into tears and wrapping her small body around me, repeating through jerking, sobbing breaths that she didn't want to go. It wasn't my business to pry into the circumstances of her family life and it isn't what I intended to do, but she seemed to be genuinely inconsolable and it made me suspicious. What kind of child reacted that way to being told they were going to spend a whole weekend with their own mother?

  We were in the courtyard again, armed with small nets and searching the murky waters of the fountain for salamanders when she fixed me with her blue eyes, already brimming with tears, and said:

  "Miss Robinson, I don't want to go to London this weekend. Can I stay here with you and Daddy?"

  I thought the Laird was away, for how long I didn't know, but he'd left on the helicopter shortly after introducing me to his daughter. Part of me thought her clinginess was about his absence - and I had no idea our conversation was being overheard.

  "But your Mommy misses you, Cameron. She'll be sad if she doesn't see you. Don't you want to see her?"

  That question pushed the tears glimmering in the child's eyes over the edge and she started to cry in earnest as they slid copiously down her cheeks.

  "No. I don't want to go. I want to stay here. Please can I stay here with you?"

  When I scooped her up onto my lap her whole body was trembling and something inside me just took over. There was no good reason for a four year old to be trembling with fear over the prospect of seeing someone - especially her own mother. Her sadness made me angry. Surely she'd expressed herself to other adults? Had they just ignored her? I pulled my head away so I could look her in the eyes.

  "Cameron, why don't you want to see your mother? Are you scared?"

  Her lower lip wobbled as she nodded her response.

  "Why are you scared?"

  "I don't like Mummy. I like you. I want to stay here. Please, Miss Robinson. Please don't make me go."

  She then dissolved into sobs and buried her face in my neck and I gave up on questioning her further about her mother, knowing it was probably just going to make things worse. It wasn't up to me whether or not she went to London and it appeared to be some kind of arranged agreement so there was no canceling. I just held her tightly until her breathing started to slow down again and asked the question that would, unbeknownst to me, lead to my seeing a side of her father I had yet to experience:

  "What do you want to do with Daddy when he comes back?"

  Cameron thought about it for a little while and then replied, in a voice still thick with tears. The combination of her upset and her accent made it difficult to understand exactly what she said.

  "I want to
go shooting."

  I, being American and not aristocratic, completely misunderstood what Cameron was saying.

  "Cameron, why would you talk about shooting? You don't shoot people with your Daddy!"

  She'd looked up at me, confused, and she was just about to say something that probably would have clarified everything when the Laird strode into the courtyard with a face like thunder. Neither me nor Cameron had time to say anything before he snatched her off my lap and turned his anger towards me:

  "You were hired to make sure she's safe and fed. You weren't hired to fill my daughter's head with wishy-washy American bullshit!"

  It took a few seconds to even process what was happening - I had no idea what the Laird was so angry about. Surely he wasn't taking issue with my telling Cameron that shooting people with her father wasn't the best way to spend her time? He was fuming, though. I could see it in his narrowed eyes and, frighteningly, the fact that he seemed to be shaking slightly.

  "What? I - Darach, I'm not sure what-"

  "Pack your things!" He bellowed, cutting me off before I could finish and so loud it was enough to have tears of dismay starting immediately in my own eyes. What had I done? I stood there in front of him, staring dumbly for a few moments as Cameron started to cry again, and then I got angry. Whatever he was yelling about it must have been a misunderstanding. I hadn't done or said anything that warranted that kind of reaction. I was his employee, yes, but that didn't mean he had a right to speak to me like that, to yell at me with that tone in his voice.

  Without saying anything I turned and walked away, back into the castle and up the spiraling stone steps to my bedroom. Cameron's howls were loud enough for me to hear even from my room. When I looked out the window I saw Mrs. Clyde rushing over to the Laird and remonstrating with him, waving her arms around and speaking loudly, although I was too far away to make out what she was saying.

  In a daze, I started to pack my things, blinking back tears of confusion and disbelief the entire time, refusing to let them come. As I packed I got angrier. Not only was he firing me for something so small I didn't even know what it was, he was taking me away from his daughter, who was already obviously attached to me - both Mrs. Clyde and her husband had remarked upon it, with Mrs. Clyde seeming especially happy that the child had found someone to confide in.

  I stayed in my room until it got dark, checking airfares on my phone and eventually booking one for the next day and using my own credit card to pay for it even though part of my employment contract had included travel costs. There was no way I was taking another cent from Laird McLanald. There was also no reason to stay the night, I just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible, so I called a taxi from the nearest town I could locate on Google maps and headed downstairs to wait outside for it to arrive.

  I wasn't waiting for more than two minutes before Mrs. Clyde opened the front door and walked up to me, her expression tense and sad.

  "Jennifer, I can't ask you to stay after that."

  No, she couldn't ask me to stay. Even if I had wanted to, it wasn't Mrs. Clyde's decision anyway.

  "The Laird has been having such a rough time lately, and so has wee Cameron. I know it's only been a short while but I can see how much she likes you."

  The mention of Cameron instantly had tears rising again but I swallowed them back down, looking out at the road and concentrating on waiting for the taxi. Mrs. Clyde continued, wringing her hands as she spoke:

  "Jennifer, he doesn't want you to leave. He can see how happy Cameron is with you."

  "He just fired me, Mrs. Clyde." I fought to keep my voice calm and steady, but even I could hear the wobble in it.

  Mr. Clyde emerged from the castle and walked down the stairs to join his wife, and the sight of the two of them, clearly distraught at the situation, just made fighting my emotions that much harder.

  "Jennifer," Mr. Clyde started, meeting my eyes and then looking down at the ground almost apologetically, "the Laird has such a temper when it comes to those he loves. He had to fly to Edinburgh but he would have told you him-"

  A car turned into the driveway before Mr. Clyde could finish, its headlights illuminating the pale gravel as it made its way up to where I was standing. It was the taxi. I knew I was going to cry if I said too much and I just wanted this awfulness to be over, so I only spoke briefly to the Clydes before getting into the cab:

  "I understand you're trying to help. You didn't hear the way he yelled at me, and as I said I don't even know what I did. I don't want to leave, but I can't stay."

  What I wanted to say was "I don't want to leave Cameron" but I knew that would have the words catching in my throat so it went unsaid. Neither of the Clydes could think of anything else to try and prevent me from leaving so instead they just stood watching sadly as the taxi pulled away. I managed to wait until the driver had turned onto the road before putting my face in my hands and bawling.

  Chapter 5

  The train station was deserted when I arrived and there didn't appear to be any staff anywhere so I settled onto a cold concrete bench and steeled myself for a chilly night waiting for the first train the next morning. No part of me was looking forward to explaining to my friends what had gone wrong with my summer job, which wasn't helped by the fact that I myself didn't really know what had caused the Laird to blow up like he did. I let my shoulders slump forward - there was no one around to try and look strong for so why bother? - and went over the conversation I'd been having with Cameron before Darach lost it. He'd obviously been listening in. Maybe it wasn't the comments about shooting, maybe it had been the conversation with her about her mother?

  The loneliness that had been with me every waking second since my grandmother passed came back with a vengeance that night in the empty train station with its bright, irritating fluorescent lights. I made a feeble attempt at warding off a bout of self-pity but in the end just decided that if I couldn't feel sorry for myself shivering with cold in the middle of a foreign country and with no one around who knew me, where could I feel sorry for myself? When the tears finally seemed to stop coming I used one of my bags as a pillow and lay down, tightly curled up against the cold, on the bench to try and get some sleep.

  "Jennifer!"

  I woke up disoriented, my body aching from shivering and not entirely sure where I was.

  "Jennifer, listen to me."

  I looked up as it slowly dawned on me who was speaking. The Laird. He was alone, standing at the foot of the bench I was sleeping on and looking straight at me. I turned away from him as soon as I had the wherewithal to do so.

  "Come back, Jennifer. Why are you out here in the cold?"

  Why was I out there in the cold? Because that jerk fired me in the most humiliating way possible, that's why. I ignored him but he didn't go away. When I sat up, he used the space I'd vacated to sit down beside me.

  "I can see that you're angry and you have every right to be. Will you just listen to me?"

  "Listen to you? What, the way you listened to me when I tried to ask you what I did wrong?" I shot back angrily, still not looking at him.

  "Please, Jennifer. I'm trying to apologize to you right now. I know that was an ugly scene and I know it was my fault."

  There was something in Darach's voice, a certain weary tone that I recognized from some of my own thoughts and conversations over the past couple of years. He sounded tired and not a little desperate.

  "What exactly did I say that was so bad?" I asked, finally looking at him.

  "Nothing. You didn't say anything. I used the shooting comments as an excuse - I was angry at myself and what's happened to Cameron since her mother left and I took it out on you."

  "But what's so fucking bad about telling a four year old that shooting people is a bad idea?!" I blurted, my voice rising with irritation. Even if he had used the comments as an excuse, I still didn't realize what he could possibly have thought was so misguided about them.

  The Laird shrugged his heavy shoulders and
shook his head slightly in a gesture that i could tell was aimed at himself, not me.

  "I take Cameron shooting with me on the estate - or, I have taken her, twice now. She enjoys it and it's something that needs to be done if the wildlife is to be properly managed."

  What? Wildlife? I paused before replying:

  "Was she talking about...hunting?"

  "Yes. And I understand if that's not something that's part of your life or that you disagree with but-"

  "I thought she was talking about wanting to shoot PEOPLE!" I said as the exact cause of the misunderstanding sank in. "I had no idea she was talking about hunting!"

  I didn't love the idea of hunting, either, but Cameron's earlier discussion suddenly made a lot more sense. She'd just been talking about spending time with her father doing things that were normal for her.

  "You thought...?"

  Darach's couldn't finish his sentence because he'd started shaking. For one awful instant I thought he was sobbing but when I looked closer I could see that, actually, he was laughing. He was trying to contain it but he was failing badly. Eventually he just leaned his head back and let it out, guffawing and slapping one hand on his leg.

  Within seconds the idea of a small Scottish girl proposing to go on a murder spree with her father also struck me as absurdly hilarious.

  "What did you think?!" Darach's eyes were leaking tears of mirth now, "did you think we just go out on jolly little murdering parties with our children in Scotland?"

  I was offended by that remark because I hadn't been the only one to make a minor semantic mistake but I couldn't say anything due to laughing so hard I could hardly breathe.

  We sat like that, snickering and wiping tears and then, just when it felt like it was over, finding ourselves struck anew by the absurdity of the mistake and falling back into helpless laughter over and over. When it finally was finished we wiped our eyes and caught our breath and I felt like I'd just laughed a year's worth of tension out of my body.