Lord of the Isles: International Billionaires VIII: The Scots

by Caro LaFever

  Willing.

  The arrogance should have made her angry. Instead, it made her more amused. Really, the man needed to be taught a bit of a lesson about women and how they didn’t immediately jump to wedding songs and la-la-land whenever a man made a nice gesture. “I thought maybe we could go that way on a bed of rose blossoms.”

  He swung his startled gaze around to stare at her.

  The amusement turned to hilarity. “And if you wouldn’t mind finding some unicorns and butterflies who can dance above us as we make love that would be fantastic.”

  His face turned from startled to horrified.

  A giggle gurgled up her throat and before she could squash the sound, it fell out of her mouth.

  Yanking his hand from hers, he scowled. “You’re laughing at my romantic gesture?”

  Another giggle burst from her at his abrupt shift. First, he wanted to make sure she wasn’t going to take him wrong, then he got offended when she let him off the hook.

  Because his romantic gesture wasn’t really romantic. Come on, she knew better than that. The man wanted sex and he was confused so he’d done something without thinking it through. Then, when he’d realized what he’d done, he’d run. Quite simple. A girl would have to be silly to think it meant anything real.

  “Donas.” He leaned into her personal space, all sweat and heat and anger. “Ye better shut up before I make ye pay.”

  She covered her mouth, yet still the mirth poured forth.

  His sky-blue eyes narrowed, darkness swirling. “I’ll give ye one more second to stop.”

  “I’m not laughing…” she tried to stop, but the giggles kept coming. “At you.”

  Well, she was. She couldn’t help it.

  He was so adorable with his tousled hair and dark scowl. With his white skin flushed with anger and embarrassment. With his male confusion and masculine indignation.

  “No?” He took a step closer, looming over her. “Ye just happened to start your howling when I tried to do something romantic for ye?”

  “It…wasn’t…romantic…”

  His scowl turned fierce and his skin went even ruddier.

  Lilly waved a hand in front of her, trying to buy some time so she could explain. She hadn’t meant to hurt him. She’d meant to let him off the hook. “Iain, I didn’t—”

  Before she could complete the sentence, he’d swooped her into his arms and stomped into the waves of the sea.

  With one look into his eyes, she understood his intent. “Don’t you dare!”

  “No donas who laughs at a good Scotsman’s honest gift gets away with it.” And with that, he launched her right into the water.

  She came up laughing again. Belly laughs now, instead of giggles.

  Any other woman would have come out of the water in a rage. They would have slapped him for what he did or screeched at him. They would have mourned their hairdo or fixated on their streaked makeup.

  But of course, the donas did none of those things.

  She laughed.

  Her blonde curls hung about her ears and cheeks, little swirls of damp prettiness. Her T-shirt plastered onto her body like glue, leaving him with little to imagine. Yet it was her laugh, the merry, lovely laugh that made him want to cry.

  Damn her.

  She was so happy with life. So filled with delight at the simplest food or the stupidest joke. Happy to stay with him even though he was angry and surly. Happy to be here in his ocean, all wet, all willing, all life.

  “You’re a crazy woman,” he bellowed.

  She laughed again.

  Twisting around, Iain marched out of the ocean, water making his jeans sag on his hips. His boots squelched on the sand. “Shite.”

  He’d been so angry, so flustered, he hadn’t thought. He’d acted. With emotion. Something that was wrong, very wrong. He’d learned that in a hard lesson that would never leave him.

  “Fuck.” He stopped to pull off his waterlogged boots.

  “No, not that,” she cooed from the sea. “Making love is the right phrase.”

  “Go to hell.” He didn’t want to look at her and see those womanly curves highlighted by her wet T-shirt and jeans. He didn’t want to see the curl of hilarity on those provocative lips, the shine of amusement in her female gaze, the taunt in the way she cocked her head.

  “Not until I have your love to console me.”

  He wrenched around to see her plant her hands on her heart and flutter her lashes at him.

  “Ye.” His boot came off with a last yank and before he thought it through, he lobbed it at her.

  She ducked, a quick, agile move, her eyes twinkling. “Another gift, my love?”

  “Dammit.” Instant dismay pummeled him. His boot was big and hard. If he’d hit his target, he could have done some damage. Once more, he’d acted emotionally, recklessly. “I could have hurt ye.”

  “But you didn’t.” She waded toward the beach, a smile lingering on her mouth. “And I was teasing you.”

  “I shouldn’t have done that.” He stood, one foot naked, the other foot steeped in a soggy boot, feeling as if he’d stepped into life again with the usual disastrous results. “I’m a danger to anyone around me.”

  She stopped, the water lapping at her hips, an immediate frown crossing her face. “Don’t be ridiculous. You didn’t throw the boot that hard.”

  “I threw the boot. That’s the point.” Leaning down, he yanked the other one off. This time he hefted the thing into the water, wanting his whole worthless life to fit in that shoe and never come back to shore. “I can’t be trusted not to hurt people.”

  A silence fell between them, filled only with the call of the seagulls and the swell of the tide on the shore. Iain kept his gaze on the sea, trying to understand when the water he’d loved as a child and even as a young man had turned into an enemy. When had he lost his love for this island, his home, his place? How could he ever find his way back to belonging, when he didn’t anymore, and never would?

  “Interesting,” she finally said. “When you start talking, you really start talking.”

  He turned to glare at her. “Could ye leave me in peace, here?”

  “But that’s the point, isn’t it?” She slogged the rest of the way out of the water, her clothes dripping, a string a seaweed trailing behind her. “You’re not at peace. Not yet.”

  “Not ever.”

  She shivered and wrapped her arms around her body.

  Another thundering roll of guilt washed through him. Lovely Lilly was cold because of him. Wet and almost hurt, and all because of him. And instead of taking care of her, he was selfishly muttering about his problems like she could do anything about them.

  “Here.” He tugged his jumper over his head and held it out to her. “Put this on and then I’ll get ye up the stairs and by the fire.”

  She didn’t take the offering. She didn’t giggle or laugh or tease, either. Wishing she’d do all of the above instead of staring at him with those sea eyes of hers, he scowled. Those eyes that wanted to delve into the center of him and figure him out. He shook the jumper at her. “Take it.”

  “Thank you.” The donas plucked the wool garment from his shaking hands. “Still, handing me clothing and changing the subject isn’t going to work, Iain.”

  “I don’t know what ye mean.” He strode away from her, his T-shirt wet with his cold sweat, his legs chilled and heavy with his dripping jeans.

  He headed for the shed because he needed to escape her and her questions. The shed he’d used as a kid to hide his collection of sea shells. The shed his dad had used to store his prized canoe that his son had only been allowed to use alone when he’d turned fourteen. The shed he hadn’t checked since he’d come home ten months ago.

  “I don’t think you should go in there.” Her voice rose in apparent consternation.

  Turning, he stared at her. “What can ye mean by that? It’s my shed.”

  “Yes, but now’s not the time to go there.” The delicate line of her b
londe brows furrowed, and a wisp of worry appeared to cross her eyes.

  “Why not?” He glanced back at the simple shed before turning her way again. “I want to see if the storm did any damage. Why don’t ye go up the castle and I’ll follow ye in a second.”

  It was definitely worry filling her eyes now. “The storm could reach the shed?”

  “Quite often.” He shifted to fully face her. “Except most of the gear is hooked to the ceiling or wall so there’s not much danger of damage.”

  “Um.” She clutched his jumper in front of her.

  “Why aren’t ye putting that damn thing on instead of standing there shivering like a drowned cat? Go back to the castle.”

  “You’re right.” She stuffed the sweater over her head in a frenzied movement. “You should get me back into the castle, pronto.”

  For a woman who’d wanted to stand on the beach and dissect his guts two minutes ago, she seemed to be in an amazing hurry all of a sudden to distract him.

  From the shed.

  He frowned at her.

  She looked at him, and he knew her well enough now to see what else was in her gaze.

  Guilt.

  A niggle of inspiration hit him, along with a tidal wave of disbelief. “Ye didn’t.”

  “Um.” She twisted her hand in front of her.

  “Ah, God damn it all to hell.” Yanking around, he loped to the shed door and pulled it open.

  His guns.

  Every single damn one of his guns.

  Ruined.

  Chapter 17

  Iain didn’t appear to be too upset.

  Yet.

  Lilly skittered one step closer. “I didn’t know the storm would reach the shed.”

  He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “My guns.”

  “I should have thought about putting them somewhere high.” She glanced at the old canoe turned upside down and hanging from a hoist. Her gaze ran over the mishmash of ropes and paddles and plastic tubs. “But I didn’t think about it.”

  “Ye piled my guns on the floor as if they were a bit of refuse ye had to dispose of.”

  “I was trying to help.” Clutching the edge of his wool sweater in her hands, she stared at the waterlogged mess she’d created.

  “I was trying to help.” His deep voice went high in its mimic of her flat drawl. “Ye know, I’m starting to worry every time ye say those words. Something bad is bound to happen to me.”

  “Really?” A niggle of anger threaded through her guilt. “Like when I helped you by cleaning your place?”

  He grunted and kneeled to grab what appeared to be an old shotgun.

  “And when I helped you by giving your neck a massage.”

  Turning the slimy steel barrel in his hands, he grunted again.

  “Or how about the crappy attitude I’ve had to put up with from you.” She crossed her arms in front of her and pouted. “All the time.”

  “Put up with me, eh?”

  “Yes. Not many people would put up with you. But I have because I want to help.”

  He threw the gun down and rose to his full height. “I’m not good company, is what you’re saying.”

  She took a cautious step away, her soggy sneakers squeaking in the sudden silence. In the gloom of the shed, she couldn’t quite make out his expression. His voice didn’t give her many clues, either. He wasn’t bellowing as usual, but there was a thread of danger sliding through his tone that made her leery. “Yes.” A stout quiver ran through her voice. “You’re a pain in the ass.”

  You have a very nice ass to make up for it, though.

  The ever-present lust she always struggled with when she was around him sizzled to life, mixing with her growing anxiety.

  “A pain in the arse, she says.” He didn’t move, yet it felt to her as if he’d come right at her, overcoming her. His body was big, but it suddenly seemed larger to her, looming in the dusty, salty air.

  “You should have had these guns properly stored away, not under your chair.” Her righteous accusation shimmered between them, an attempt at a barrier. Still, she felt him even more, surrounding her. She took another step back. “Then I wouldn’t have had to get rid of them.”

  His hand shot out, bridging the distance between them and yanking her into his body.

  Lilly squealed in surprise before his other hand went to the back of her head and pushed her face right into his broad chest. He smelled of pine and sweat and male. The combination made her blood fizz with female need.

  “Now here’s the thing, donas,” he said from above her.

  Her words went right into his cotton T-shirt, too muffled to make sense.

  “Yes, I’m sure ye have a lot of things to say. Ye usually do.” He kept his hand firmly planted on her curls. “That’s why I have ye like this now because I’m not going to let ye take this particular conversation over.”

  She tried to wiggle from his control, but his brawny arm was tight along her shoulders, his other hand firm on her hip.

  “Ye always want to talk, so I’ll talk.” He moved then, moved both of them until she was plastered between the wooden wall of the shed and his toned, hot body. “I’m thinking the destruction of my guns needs to be rectified in some way.”

  “Mmbrrggg.”

  “I’m glad ye agree.” Sliding his arm from behind her, he used his hips to keep her pinned. “I’m thinking you’ve danced away from what’s between us for long enough.”

  The lust in her rose, because not only her brain, but her body understood what he meant. “Arggmennn.”

  “Ye don’t say.” He hummed, and she heard the clear amusement in his tone.

  She kicked his shin.

  “Och.” In retaliation, he slid a solid thigh between her legs and lifted her off the sandy floor. “There now, there’ll be no more of that.”

  The hot pressure of his leg hit exactly the right place between her own. Or the wrong place, if a girl was trying to keep things friendly. “Smflltekk.”

  “Ye do have a way with words, don’t ye, my lovely Lilly.” He framed her head with both hands now, keeping her close to his chest.

  Lust raged inside her, making her pant into his shirt. The compassion she felt for this man sank down and down into a sea of need and want and desire. She tried to yank her focus back, tried to think of him as a man in need of her help. Yet his big, muscled body, the press of his hips telling her he wanted her too, and more than anything else, the tender way he held her head in his hands, made it impossible.

  This overwhelming passion scared her.

  She liked sex. She’d had sex. Except this wasn’t about sex, not for her, not now. The craving for this man came over her like a great wave, crashing against all her beliefs about sex and men and her. The craving wasn’t only for his body. No, she wanted more. More of his thoughts and emotions. More of his affection and respect. More of his heart and soul.

  She punched him hard in his abdomen.

  He grunted.

  She punched him again. Harder.

  He laughed, a laugh she’d never heard from him. Young and free and happy.

  This was trouble. Not for him, not as she’d once thought. Trouble for her. Trouble in a way she’d never thought to experience.

  She punched him with both of her fists.

  Shifting closer, he ignored her attacks and instead, made one of his own. His hips canted into hers, telling her exactly what he wanted to do. He was big down there and, if she’d had to guess, fully erect.

  A thrilled, jittery excitement rushed through her body.

  “Ye can hit me again, if you’d like,” Iain murmured into her ear. “For being such a pain in the arse.”

  She obliged and socked him again.

  “That’s good.” His words tickled the skin of her neck. “I want ye to get all your aggression out before I start on mine.”

  A trembling started in the center of her chest and the core of her body. His words were simple, yet the meaning behind them was a complex myri
ad of promises and threats.

  A promise of passion for her body.

  A threat of pain to her heart.

  A promise of pleasure beyond anything she’d experienced.

  A threat of taking something inside her she’d never given to anyone.

  Before she could assimilate all of his meaning and her reaction, he pulled her head from his chest and stared at her with eyes so blue, even in the dim light, she thought them unreal.

  “There ye are, donas,” he whispered. “There ye are.”

  She should say something. Something strong and sure. Something friendly and jaunty. Lilly couldn’t think of anything. Her brain had turned to mush; a mushy, soft, hazy stew of nothing except want and need.

  “There then,” he crooned. “Now we’re right where we both want to be.”

  He leaned in very slowly, as if expecting her to finally figure out what to say. He leaned in with a gentle sway, so unlike his hard body pinning her to the wood. He leaned in, and she did, too.

  She did, too.

  “Ah, lass.” His breath brushed across her open lips, hot and earthy. “This is exactly right.”

  He didn’t steal this kiss, not like the last one. Touching his mouth to hers with a soft sip, he made her give herself to him. Give her kiss, her mouth, her terrified heart. His lips moved over hers, gentle and warm, like the Scottish wind outside. His lips asked and hers answered.

  A low sound of pleasure rumbled from his chest as he used his hands to shift her head, letting him come into her mouth in a deeper, darker slant.

  He tasted of peat and heather, sweet and sting. His lips weren’t enough for her and before she could stop herself, her tongue swept along the crease of his mouth, begging for more.

  Gasping, he lurched back, his gaze narrowing into lasers of pure heat. “Lilly, I thought to take it slow—”

  “Come here.” Now, instead of using her fists to pummel him, she used her hands to grab him. His dusky curls, his strong neck, his rough cheeks. She yanked his mouth to hers again and this time, he opened wide for her, letting her taste however much she wanted.

  The depths of his mouth tasted of smoky sex and tangy male, mixing with his sweetness and sting. His taste curled around her like a solid fist, driving her blood into wildness, pushing her past the point of reasoning. Restless with need, she clutched his neck and sank deep into his power.