Lord of the Isles: International Billionaires VIII: The Scots

by Caro LaFever

  Come what may.

  “As I said after breakfast.” She waved at the window. “It’s a beautiful day. Why don’t we go into town?”

  His heart shuddered again, but not with life this time. With fear. “No.”

  Sighing, she tugged his hand into hers. “Come on. The villagers love you.”

  That was the point. His heart might be lighter than before the donas arrived to save him, still, it wasn’t light enough to accept the undeserved.

  Another surge of restless energy pulsed inside him, and along with it came inspiration.

  “Ye want to go somewhere, then we’ll go somewhere.” He turned, yanking her in his wake. He couldn’t handle the villagers’ affections. Perhaps, though, he could handle a bit of his kingdom. Maybe he could confront a bit of his past and put it to rest.

  “Where are we going?”

  “The kitchen first.” Pulling her through the arch, he surveyed the dirty dishes in the sink. “Didn’t I tell ye to clean up the breakfast?”

  “Yes, I believe I remember that order.” She stopped at his side and threw him an impish look. “I also remembered I cooked. So that means you’re supposed to clean.”

  “Does it then. Is this some American rule ye have?” He couldn’t help himself. Although he knew they were friends and maybe he needed her more as that than as a lover, he couldn’t help himself. He came in closer, taking in the flicker of her blonde-tipped lashes, taking in the smoothness of her silky skin, taking in the aqua of her eyes.

  “Iain.” Her flat voice dragged out his name in a clear warning.

  He couldn’t afford to lose her. Not now. Perhaps not ever.

  His heart banged like a gong in his chest at the last realization. Jerking back, he gave her a pointed glare. “Ye clean the dishes. I’m packing us a picnic.”

  “A picnic?” Her face lit with delight. “That’s a great idea. I haven’t been on a picnic in years.”

  Before he lost himself and grabbed her pretty face in both of his hands and took, he swung his gaze to the pantry and forced his brain to think rationally. “Get to work on those dishes. I’ll be ready to go in a few minutes.”

  “Where are we going to go to have this picnic?” Her voice rose in excitement, like a small child. “The beach?”

  “A beach.” Pacing to the storage room next to the laundry, he jerked out his old rucksack that had seen duty in multiple countries.

  She bounced behind him, apparently trying to see what he was doing. “Not our beach?”

  Our beach.

  The words stole through him in a soft wave. He zipped open the sack, attempting to ignore the implication.

  “Iain.” Her drawl filled with irritation, overlaying the excitement. “Tell me!”

  “First ye need to clean those dishes, or we won’t be going anywhere.” He threw the directive over his shoulder. “Once that’s done, I might inform ye of my plans.”

  She humphed, but stalked to the sink and flipped on the water. “Might. You can be so irritating.”

  “Ditto.” Going to the pantry, he rustled through the offerings, picking and choosing carefully. By the time he’d raided the fridge and his locked supplies, Lilly had wiped the last dish clean.

  “Ready?” He swung the heavy bag over his shoulder, the motion as familiar to him as walking. As comforting to him as a comrade’s slap on the back. He stilled at the realization, taking it into his heart and letting it be. Letting some of the pain ease out of him and into the air of his sanctuary.

  She eyed him. “That thing must weigh fifty pounds with the amount of stuff you packed into it.”

  “It’s always good to be prepared.”

  “That’s the soldier in you, I can tell.” She made the declaration like she understood him, knew what it had cost him to become prepared for anything.

  A clog of tears circled in his throat, but he’d be damned if he’d weep on her shoulders again. “Come on, we’re wasting the day.”

  “Is what I’m wearing okay?”

  The question was so female. So unexpected from the girl who whooped her way out of the ocean, the girl who’d stolen his clothes, the girl who hadn’t seemed to care how she looked that he laughed.

  Her head shot up from inspecting her simple cotton shirt and jeans. “Don’t laugh at me.”

  “Sorry.” He coughed over another chuckle. “You’re fine. Let’s go.”

  “Wait. I need to get my camera.” She scuttled into the den.

  Following behind her, he frowned. For some reason, he didn’t want her to have that. He wanted her focus on him and his islands and sea, not hidden behind a lens. “Ye don’t want to bring that.”

  “Why not?” Slinging the case’s strap over her shoulder, she shot him a puzzled look. “I bring my camera pretty much everywhere I go.”

  “It might get wet.”

  “Wet?” The puzzlement fell away, replaced with a thrilled elation that reminded him of the girl who’d followed him to his back-door steps years ago. “We’re going on the water?”

  “That’s the plan.” He gestured at the camera. “Better leave that behind.”

  “I’ll take my chances.” She stroked the case at her hip. “I’ve taken this into a lot more dangerous places than a sail on the sea.”

  Another objection didn’t jump to mind. Other than the one that would show how vulnerable he was to her, how much he needed all of her, so he shrugged and turned to the stairs. “Suit yourself.”

  He felt her behind him as he marched down the stone stairs to the beach, her gait more tentative than his. By the time he’d reached the sand, she was only halfway along. “Do ye need me to hold your hand?”

  She gave him a scowl.

  The sun warmed his skin and the air around him seemed to open its arms and welcome him back. Her pretty face with its mutinous glare blended into the stone wall of his castle, making him think she’d been there all along, just waiting for him to come home. Waiting with her snappy words and flat drawl and warm arms.

  He laughed again filled with an unexpected and incomprehensible joy.

  “No more laughing at me,” she announced as she hit the sand beside him.

  “Why not?” He leaned near to smile into her glowering face. “Aren’t ye the one who’s always telling me to lighten up?”

  “I’ve never told you to lighten up.”

  “Not in so many words, but your intent since ye arrived has been clear.” He got a touch closer, enough he could see how the center of her irises was pure green with streaks of blue blooming on the edges. “So I’m only doing what ye want me to do. Is that so bad?”

  A reluctant grin edged her mouth. “I have to admit, it is nice to see a smile on that face of yours instead of the usual grouchy look.”

  Before he thought it through, he kissed her cute nose with its sprinkle of amber freckles dancing across the skin like little fairy spots.

  “Iain.” She drawled out another warning.

  “Just a friendly kiss, lass.” He swung away before he did more and started for the shed. “Nothing to fash yourself about.”

  He hoped the old canoe was still seaworthy. His da had been sick for a couple of years and likely wouldn’t have had the energy to get the thing into the sea by himself. If he’d been home, he could have…

  Shaking off another bolt of guilt, he slid the shed door open and stared up.

  “We’re going to take that out on the water?” Her voice came from behind him, filled with sudden doubt. “I thought maybe you’d have a boat come around from the harbor.”

  “Naw. I don’t need a big boat with a motor to get where I want to go.”

  “And where’s that?” She shuffled to his side, her piquant face lifted, her blonde brows furrowed. “Are you sure this canoe is going to get us there?”

  “Aye.” He eyed the cedar hull. Apparently, his da had done his due diligence, even if he hadn’t been able to take the boat out. “It’s in fine shape.”

  “It looks small.”

&nbs
p; He glanced at her. Her forehead was creased with faint worry, making her appear impossibly young and impossibly desirable.

  Pushing the lust away, he focused on his affection for this woman who’d come into his life at exactly the right time. “What’s this?” he teased. “Is this the spirited woman who stormed my castle to rout me out? Can that girl possibly be worried about a wee trip on the water in a boat?”

  Lovely Lilly glanced at him before giving him a wary chuckle. “You promise we won’t be going far?”

  You promise.

  The echo of his past pulsed through him for a moment, but he pushed that away, too. He wanted this trip to wash everything away. He wanted his home back, his happy memories back, at least for a time. And somehow, he knew, his fairy girl had to be there for him to accomplish this goal. “Not far at all.”

  “Okay.” She patted his arm in the irritating way of hers that made him think he was a doggy.

  He shook her off. “Don’t do that.”

  Her hand dropped and hurt crossed her face. “Sorry.”

  “See here.” He ducked his head to her level, immediately wanting that hurt gone. “Ye can touch me anytime ye want, all right?”

  “Um.” The hurt didn’t leave her face. Instead, a flush ran across her glossy cheeks, giving him a jumbled view of what she was thinking.

  Confused by her, he came closer attempting to find the right words. “What I don’t appreciate is when ye touch me like I’m some injured animal who needs comforting.”

  Her face cleared. “Oh. I get it. I’m only trying to help, Iain.”

  Her soft voice touched something deep inside, making the restlessness leap. His lust reared its head and he couldn’t stop himself. “I don’t mind when ye touch me in other ways.”

  “Don’t do that thing with your eyes.” Her own gaze narrowed and she punched him hard in one bicep.

  “Och.” He danced away, rubbing his arm. “Now why’d ye do that?”

  “Because whenever you do that thing with your eyes it makes me mad.”

  He had no idea what she was talking about and really, he itched to get out on his sea. “Just use that strength of yours to help me get the canoe down, will ye?”

  She gave him another pointed look, but obediently walked into the shed and waited for his instructions.

  Within a few minutes, they’d unhitched the boat from the ceiling and tugged it to the water’s edge. Iain inspected the gunwales, thwarts, and ash wood seats with satisfaction. The craft was in grand condition. Setting the rucksack on the middle seat, he went back for the paddles and lifejackets. He came out of the shed to find her standing at the prow of the canoe, looking scared again.

  “The waves are pretty big.”

  “Naw, they aren’t, honestly.” He set the paddles in the boat and threw one of the jackets over her blonde head. “Now see here, Lil.”

  “What?” Her worried eyes lifted to focus on his face.

  “I’m a Marine.” The words trickled through him like an old friend, a hated enemy. He hadn’t claimed them for months, almost a year. Yet they were still true, even if he’d screwed everything up and done great damage. “I know my way around water.”

  The muscles around her tight mouth relaxed. “I guess I didn’t think about that.”

  “Think about it all the way across to my island.” He slid his own lifejacket on and tightened the harness into place.

  Her eyes lit with immediate interest. “I thought Somairie was your island.”

  “Somairie is my family’s. We’re going to mine.” Impatient to get on the water, something he found astonishing since he’d avoided it for so long, he pulled her close and latched her harness at her waist. The camera bag stuck out at an odd angle and for a moment, he wanted to wrench it away, but he refrained, nudging it instead. “Ye might want to store your camera under the covering in the bow.”

  “No. I’ll put it right here.” She stuffed it under her lifejacket, her head swinging down, her curls brushing close to his nose.

  Before he got lost in her scent, he turned to the boat and pulled the prow around so it faced his sea. “Climb in.”

  A flicker of apprehension flashed in her eyes before she gingerly climbed into the canoe. “Where do I sit?”

  “Up front. Here’s a paddle.” He nearly laughed when she grabbed it like it was a lightning bolt ready to electrify her. Tiptoeing toward the front of the craft, she settled into the seat facing him.

  He did laugh then. “Have ye never been in a canoe?”

  “No.” Her face went truculent. “I have, however, done a lot of other things you probably haven’t done.”

  “Probably true.” He twirled his finger at her. “Turn around, donas, and face my sea.”

  A light of understanding gleamed in her pretty green eyes and she lifted her legs and settled in correctly.

  With one push, he had the craft out on the water and himself in the backseat. His paddle sliced into the ocean with an ease he hadn’t felt for months. The slap of the water on the hull went through him like one of his mum’s lullabies. The ones she’d crooned to him when he’d been a small boy falling asleep, secure in his family, happy in his home. The salty, fresh air filled his nostrils, reminding him of his da and his childhood adventures.

  Lilly chuckled, pulling him back to her and his present.

  “What am I supposed to do with this?” She glanced over her shoulder, the paddle lifted in one hand, her provocative mouth pursed in merry bewilderment.

  “Watch me for a while.” He dug into the water, loving the feeling of using his muscles once more. She’d accused him of having some extensive workout room in his castle, but in reality, he’d only kept in shape by doing the remodeling. He hadn’t done much of anything for the last couple of months, and the ache of his muscles yelled the knowledge at him.

  Swinging the paddle to the other side, he dug in again, pushing the canoe past the point of the island where his castle stood, and onto the open ocean. Her gaze never left him, and he wondered if the heat of his skin was more because of her perusal than the exercise. Likely, it was because of both.

  The heat, the life, the lust exploded inside him, making him take in a deep breath of air.

  She gave him a sudden, jaunty smile. “I think I’ve got it.” Turning, she dipped her paddle into the water and promptly lost it to a wave. “Crap.”

  A big laugh boomed from his belly. Iain threw his head back and let it come. Let his whoop spread over his water, let his euphoria grow inside, let himself take in the present without the past.

  “Stop laughing,” her surly voice came from the front. “I can’t get it.”

  He opened his eyes in time to head off catastrophe. “Don’t, Lil. Don’t move.”

  “What?” She froze in a crouch, leaning way too far out of the canoe.

  “Sit down.” He barked the orders in a familiar, hard voice.

  Like his men, she responded instinctively, sliding onto her seat. “You don’t have to turn all commander on me,” she grumbled.

  “I do if I don’t want to have to fish ye out of the sea, as well as your paddle.” Scooping the thing out of the water when it passed, he lifted it across the boat. “Here. And this time, hold on.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  He laughed again.

  Chapter 20

  Lilly soaked in the sound of his happiness. He’d given her a surly laugh and an ugly laugh. But this laugh blew all of those previous ones away, replacing it with a laugh she wanted to hear over and over. Every day. For the rest of her life.

  For the rest of her life.

  Jerking her focus off his joyful face, she turned to stare at the waves in frozen horror.

  When had this happened?

  When had she fallen?

  “Come on, donas.” His cheerful voice came from behind her. “Don’t make me do all the work.”

  She stared at the paddle in a daze. How could this be? How could she have traveled a million miles, eaten with a thousa
nd people, seen amazing sights and heard astonishing sounds, and never once had her heart been in danger?

  Never once.

  Not until this moment.

  “Are ye okay?” His voice went tentative.

  No, she was not okay. She was very, very not okay.

  “Lilly?”

  “I’m fine.” Gripping the paddle’s handle in a tight grip, she stuck it in the waves.

  “Ye don’t have to attack the water. It’s easier if ye work with it.” His voice came again, this time mild and serene like the man had not a care in the world.

  Which was patently not true.

  She’d come to be friends, friends only. She’d come to offer him help, not her heart. She’d come to make sure he got well, not get her.

  She slapped the water once more, sloshing a wave over the edge of the canoe that drenched one of her legs. “Crap.”

  “Shite.” His voice, the voice she’d heard in every variation—tough and angry, hoarse and anguished, teasing and sultry—that voice went straight to remorse, making her hurt inside. “Don’t do anything, lass. Let me do the paddling before ye do more damage to yourself.”

  His fault. She could practically hear the words swirling in his head.

  Damn him.

  She’d fallen in love with a man who could be the poster boy for responsibility. A man who took on too much and felt too deeply. A man who was exactly opposite of everything she was.

  Fallen in love.

  She poked the paddle into the sea again, whacking at the water as if it held her stupid, stupid heart. How could she have done this to herself? How could she have fallen into a trap as deadly and disastrous as the one her mother had fallen into twice with horrible results each time?

  “Do ye ever listen?” That voice of his was filled with exasperation now.

  Yes, she had listened well.

  She’d listened as her father and mother fought and fought until they’d finally broken up when she’d been five. She’d listened to the unfamiliar roar of New York City overwhelming her child ears for the months and months she’d grappled to find her place in this new home her mother had chosen. She’d listened to the marriage vows her mom had taken with her stepfather, knowing she was losing her in some unfathomable way her nine-year-old self had understood with a naїve instinct. She’d listened to the cries of her two sisters when they’d been born and she’d felt like she’d been replaced.