by KyAnn Waters
“Not until you answer me.” He touched the ring on her finger. “This was the ring my grandfather gave my grandmother when he asked her to marry him. It’s magical. It joins two lives. I love you, Cassandra.”
Cassie drew a sharp breath. “Trent, you can’t mean this.”
“I mean this with all my heart.”
Her father appeared in the hallway behind Meg, Sophia and her mother. By all that was unholy, had they called a family meeting?
“Will you marry me?”
“We’re already married.”
“Will you stay married to me?’
Her family started toward them.
“Cassandra, what is this?” her mother demanded.
Cassie didn’t reply Her gaze lingered on his face. “Yes,” she whispered. “Now get up before the interrogation begins.”
Trent stood, pulled Cassie into his arms, and kissed her.
“Why are you proposing?” Her mother’s lips pursed.
Trent wrapped an arm around Cassie’s shoulders. “I’m proposing forever. I was just giving my wife her real wedding ring.”
Sophia bent and picked up the diamond ring from the carpet. “What’s this?
“That?” Trent said. “That’s just a piece of junk.”
“Trent,” Cassie cried. “That ring—”
“Means nothing to me,” he cut in. Trent curled her fingers to his lips and kissed the band. “This ring belongs to you.” He smiled. “It’s grandfather’s gift to us.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Trent glanced up when Cassie entered his grandfather’s office.
She stopped beside him at the desk. “Still at it?”
Trent set the letter he’d been reading on the desk and pulled her down onto his lap. She giggled and tried to squirm free, but he held tight, found her lips and tasted the sweetness of his wife.
“Wow,” she said when he broke the kiss. “Keep that up and we won’t get any work done for the rest of the day.”
He laughed. “I know. Did you talk to Maryanne?”
“Yes. She’s thrilled with the idea. With all the notoriety, she said the phone is ringing off the hook. Apparently I am ready for Hollywood. I’ll oversee our new West Coast Division, and she’ll stay in Miami representing our East coast clients. I’ll open an office in Denver.”
“It’s a good thing you already have a company helicopter to take you into work.”
Her gaze narrowed. He could see the argument coming before the words spilled from her lips. “I didn’t say anything about expecting Liam to shuttle me back and forth,” she said.
Trent shrugged. “You won’t win this argument.”
“So you’re saying a helicopter, jet, and driver are just perks of being a billionaire’s bride.”
He smiled. “I didn’t think Brettonwood would feel like home anymore, but I was wrong. We belong here—helicopter, jet, driver and all.”
“It won’t be a place of quiet solitude anymore. My family doesn’t understand boundaries.” Her nose pinched. “You’ve met my mother.”
“I’ve had enough of being alone.” He held her a little tighter. “I want a family.”
She rested her forehead against his. “You have one.” She kissed him quickly, then glanced at the papers on his desk. “How much longer do you think it’ll be before you finish going through your grandfather’s things?”
“I’m pretty close,” he said. “I found something interesting.”
“Oh yeah?”
He picked up the letter and handed it to her. “Read this.”
Her gaze moved across the page and, a moment later, she looked up at him. “Does this mean what I think it means?”
“If you think it means an attorney contacted Granddad about some inheritance in Scotland, then yes.”
“Why didn’t he say anything?” she asked.
Trent shrugged. “I can only guess he didn’t think it was all that important, given his health.”
“It’s dated two and a half months ago.”
“I know. I think he knew he was sick long before he let me know.”
She set the letter on the desk and hugged him. “I’m sorry, baby.”
A lump formed in Trent’s throat. He closed his eyes and tightened his arms around her. Losing his grandfather hurt to his core, but Cassie salved his soul.
She pulled back. “The attorney is requesting James’ presence. Will you go in his place?”
“I think we should.”
“We?”
“I’m not going without you,” he said. “I need to honor my grandfather and take his ashes back to Scotland.” He picked up the letter again. “The attorney is in Inverness where we have to go anyway.”
Her brow furrowed. “That’s a coincidence.”
“Is it?” he replied. “You see the name of the deceased?”
She took the letter from him. “Kennedy Elliot,” she read. “Elliot?” Her brows furrowed. “Your, what was it, great grandmother was an Elliot?”
Trent nodded. “Granddad’s mother was Rebecca Elliott.”
“Kennedy Elliot, a long lost relative?” she said.
“It must be. Granddad was named in the will.”
“As his only heir, whatever was his would be yours,” Cassie said. “I wonder what it is?”
Trent set is aside. “I have no idea. It didn’t matter enough to Granddad to bother with it, so it may not mean a great deal.” He shifted his gaze onto her. “You’re going to love the cove where Granddad wants his ashes scattered.”
She leaned her head on his chest. “I’ll love anything he loved.”
“Does that include me?”
She kissed his neck. “Especially you.”
###
From the Authors
We hope you enjoyed Trent and Cassie’s story. The Rented Bride is the first in the Highland Billionaires series. In book two, The Inherited Bride, you’ll meet Ava Binghamton and Marshall Elliot and learn more about the inheritance and even get to stay in a haunted castle. We’ve included a short excerpt from The Inherited Bride.
KyAnn and Tarah
The Inherited Bride
Book Two: The Highland Billionaires
Tarah Scott & KyAnn Waters
Headlights appeared at the entrance to the circular driveway and Marshall recognized the light green Renault Grand Modus driven by Angus. The car eased around the fountain in the center of the drive and stopped in front of the mansion as Marsh hurried down the front steps, anxious to escape the party. He should have known better than to accept an invitation from his old friend Gordon MacKinzie. Gordon was a decent guy, but his friends tended to be self-righteous snobs.
Today was Marsh’s first night back in Scotland and he wasn’t in the mood to be waylaid by another wealthy guest out to prove they were more in touch with the common man than a rich American. He’d had to pry himself loose from just such a conversation with Donald Atwater when Gordon joined them. Marshall wouldn’t be surprised to discover that Donald had bloodhounds on his trail. Success comes with its own problems, his father used to say. How right he’d been. Marshall didn’t wear his wealth on his sleeve, but he wasn’t about to apologize for being successful.
He reached the cab and climbed inside.
“Evening, Marshall,” Angus said.
“Good evening, Angus,” he replied. “Would you take me to my hotel, please?”
“Aye, sir.”
The cab started forward then slowed for two couples walking to their cars.
“Wait!” someone called.
Marshall looked up when the other back door opened and a woman jumped inside the cab.
“I thought I’d missed you—” She looked up and he locked gazes with green eyes the color of moss in the morning light. She glanced toward the driver, then her eyes narrowed when they returned to his. “I believe you were trying to steal my taxi.”
“Your taxi?” Marshall repeated.
She blinked. “You-you’re—”
&nbs
p; He lifted a brow. “I’m...”
She shook her head. “Nevermind. I mistook you for someone else.”
He just bet she did. She was the woman who’d been sitting at the bar when Donald Atwater read him the riot act. And that wasn’t all. Marshall hadn’t known it then, but that voice gave her away as Ava Binghamton. He recognized the dress that molded to lush curves and the tumble of dark hair around slim shoulders. So the woman who owned half interest in Castle Highburn had been eavesdropping on his conversation. Why not? Turnabout was fair play. He’d eavesdropped on her earlier today. Had she known who he was when she was listening to his conversation with Donald?
“Who did you mistake me for?” he asked.
“No one you would know,” she replied.
No. She didn’t yet know his identity. This woman wouldn’t have been able to sit quietly by and listen if she’d known he was the man who owned half of her castle. In fact, at one point in his conversation with Donald he could have sworn she was laughing.
“I’m happy to share my cab,” Marshall said.
“This isn’t your cab,” she insisted.
“Actually, it is,” he said.
“You can’t simply appropriate someone else’s cab,” she said. “I called for this taxi. That makes it mine.”
He gave his head a single shake. “This taxi—this particular driver, in fact—is mine.”
“Rubbish,” she said.
“I’m afraid it’s true, Miss,” Angus said. “I have been driving Mr.—”
“Angus, let’s do the lady a favor and take her wherever it is she needs to go.”
“Angus? Angus McPhee, is that you?” she said.
“Aye, Miss.”
“Did this gentleman hire you?”
“He did, Miss.”
She looked at Marshall. “My apologies.” She reached for the door handle.
“There’s no need to leave,” he said. “I meant what I said. I’m happy to share the cab.”
She shook her head. “I live north of the city.”
“We are north of the city. Angus, please head north.”
The car started forward.
“You have no idea where I live,” she insisted.
“I’m betting Angus knows. If not, we can drive all night. It’s a beautiful night for a drive.”
They passed through the gate and the lights illuminated her frown. “You’re purposely being obtuse,” she said.
“Perhaps.”
She released an exasperated sigh. “All right. You’re correct, Angus does know where I live.”
Angus remained quiet, and Marshall decided that Angus had earned a substantial tip.
***
What was she doing in a cab with a stranger? Just because Angus knew the man, didn’t mean it was wise to let him know where she lived. Not to mention, she wanted to be alone.
Ava turned to him. “Thank you for sharing your cab.” She extended her hand to the man. “Ava Binghamton.”
He grasped her hand with long, strong fingers and gave a firm shake. “My friends call me Marsh.” He released her, but she was certain he’d held her hand an instant longer than was strictly necessary.
“We aren’t friends, sir.”
“Not yet.”
She frowned. Was he flirting with her?
“Are you here on business or pleasure?” she asked.
“I’m beginning to think pleasure,” he replied.
Warmth crept up her cheeks.
“A woman who blushes. Does she appreciate a compliment or hide a secret?”
By God, the man was damned forward. In the bar, she’d laughed at the way he’d verbally sparred with Donald because, well, Donald could be an ass and he deserved it. However, now that she was on the receiving end—
“You’re being rude,” she said.
“As rude as when I was talking with your friend Donald Atwater?”
“Not quite—what?”
“You were eavesdropping and, if I’m not mistaken, you were laughing, as well,” he said.
“I was not,” she blurted.
In the wash of dashboard lights, she caught the hint of a smile on his lips.
“If you wanted a private conversation, you shouldn’t have been talking in a public place. Besides Donald is an annoying a—” Ava broke off. She had no idea who this stranger was in relation to Donald. For all she knew, they were dating. She cocked an eyebrow. The good looking ones were always gay.
“It’s all right to laugh,” he said. “Like you said, he’s annoying.”
“I’m sure he’ll be disappointed there won’t be a second date.”
“What?”
“I was just thinking,” she said.
“I’m uncertain I want to know where those thoughts were going.” He laughed that same amused laugh she’d heard earlier, only this time the sound filled the small space and caused her pulse to skip a beat. “But I wouldn’t mind a second cab ride,” he added.
“I think you’re toying with me,” she said.
“Not yet,” he replied. “But the night is young.”
Butterflies fluttered inside her stomach. She grimaced inwardly. She wasn’t just sharing a cab she was flirting—with a stranger. She didn’t even know his name. Marsh, what sort of name was that? What if he was psychotic? How could she describe him to the police if she survived the cab ride? She could barely make out his features in the dark. One thing was certain, no one would question why she fell victim to him. His voice alone would melt the clothes off most women.
“I don’t believe for an instant you’re really flirting with me,” she said.
“Then you underestimate your charms,” he replied.
“You’re no common idiot.”
He laughed again. “An uncommon idiot, then?”
A muffled snort sounded from Angus.
“An idiot, at any rate,” she said under her breath. And she was playing along, so what kind of idiot was she?
“Where are we taking you?” he asked.
“Castle Highburn. It’s another twenty minutes north.”
“Castle Highburn,” he repeated thoughtfully. “I heard the owner passed away.”
Ava swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. “He did.”
“You were close?”
She nodded, glad they’d left the lights of the mansion behind. Just the thought of Kennedy brought her to tears. “He was my best friend.”
“I’m sorry.”
Ava looked at him, startled by his genuine sympathy. “Thank you.”
“There’s not much that makes it better,” he said. “Time helps.”
She looked out the window at the sparse lights that dotted the distant landscape, then discreetly swiped at a tear that had slipped from the corner of one eye.
“Are you the new owner?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes.” Half owner, at any rate. Full owner, if tomorrow’s negotiations went well.
“Are you planning to sell?” he asked.
She jerked her gaze onto him. “No.”
He laughed. “I believe you.”
Ava winced. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day.”
“Running a castle must take a lot out of a person.”
“There’s always a crisis looming.”
“What’s your latest crisis?” he asked.
“Ever see a brood of chickens cross the road?”
“Is that the beginning of a joke?”
She grimaced. “Yes, but it’s not funny when you’re chasing chickens for an hour.”
“After that, is chicken on the menu?” he asked.
Ava laughed. “The chickens are lucky. They’ll live to lay another egg.”
He chuckled. “So then it’s breakfast instead of dinner. I prefer scrambled.”
She snorted.
Chasing the chickens had been a nuisance, but it was the burst water pipe in the caretaker’s cottage that became the real problem. But she had no intention of sharing her problems with a s
tranger. The last thing she needed was the neighbors gossiping about how Highburn was falling apart. It wasn’t, of course. All large estates had their problems. But any such talk could cause real estate prices to fall. Maybe that was exactly what she needed. If Mr. Elliot thought Castle Highburn wasn’t worth anything, he might sell her his half. And where would she get the money to buy it?
Her attorney, Roger Barrett, had called to say that Mr. Elliot arrived in Scotland that afternoon, but had postponed their meeting. So why cancel the meeting? Her stomach churned. She should have finished that glass of wine at the party.
“How is it you know, Gordon?” she asked. “I’ve attended many of his parties but have never seen you before tonight.”
“We went to school together in Edinburgh.”
Ava studied him. “You attended university in Scotland?”
“I was born here. On the Isle of Skye, to be precise.”
“You’re Scottish?”
He laughed. “You sound shocked.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just that you speak with an American accent.”
“I spent most of my early years in the States. I can speak with a brogue, if you prefer.”
“I don’t prefer,” she said. “It was just an observation.”
“You’re the second woman today to make that observation,” he said.
“What?”
“Nevermind. How is it you know Gordon?” he asked.
“I met him when I came to Garve.”
“Did you attend school in Edinburgh?”
She shook her head. “No. The University of the Highlands and Islands.”
“An excellent school,” he said. “What did you study?”
“Business, communications, and hospitality.”
“Three degrees?” he said. “You’re a smart lady.”
“Only two majors,” Ava said. “The Communications was a minor. When you’re young, you can do anything.” That’s what Kennedy had told her. He’d paid for her education—and insisted she study at least two subjects. He’d been immensely proud when she’d added the minor in communications. “What did you study?” she asked.
