by Caro LaFever
“I need to understand.” A pugnacious tone edged his voice.
“You aren’t going to let me out until you do, right?”
“Exactly.” His eyes were still closed. “I’m going to go through this last month step by step.”
“Oh, God.” Although her anger didn’t recede, reluctant amusement bubbled underneath. “Seriously?”
Her logical lover.
No, her pride reminded her. Not your lover anymore.
“Seriously.” He lifted one long finger. “I come back to London to find my da has left my castle to a woman. A stranger.”
“It is your castle, Lorne. I’ve told you that. Can’t you just let this be?”
He ignored her as he had so many other times before. But now she realized, after living with him, it was a coping skill. Unlike other people, he needed to focus his intense brain on one thing at a time. Her unwanted love for him and her unwilling affection towards him kept her tongue quiet.
“I was angry.” His eyes flashed open and he winced at the light. “I was also hurt.”
Her heart tilted toward him against her strong will. “I’m sorry.”
“Why should ye be sorry?” His looked at her, his gaze confused. “It was my da who hurt me.”
“Your father didn’t mean—”
“I was determined to get it back.” He brushed right by her, his concentration once again focused. A second and third finger went up. “I was determined to make ye pay.”
And he had. Probably not in the way he’d envisioned, yet she’d paid an awful price for Lorne Ross. Losing her dreams of belonging to Castle Ross. Losing her dreams of making her lotions with Ross heather and roses. Losing her heart because he’d wheedled it from behind her armor before she realized the danger he was to her. The only thing he’d left her was her pride. The pride that demanded she not buckle in front of him and beg him to take her the way she was.
A T-shirt-and-jeans-type woman.
A female who would never allow herself to be dressed up in a role.
A girl who’d lost her hope and was too frightened to ever want it back.
“So that’s why I ordered the first security report.” He cut into her thoughts with his dogged recitation of facts. “To find out your agenda. To find out your weaknesses.”
Ceri pressed herself along the door, trying to stop herself from following him down the memory lane he was intent on traversing.
“I came to Castle Ross to drive ye away and to claim what was mine.”
“It is yours. I’ve said that.”
He ignored her once more, his gaze growing distant, his hands dropping to his desk, fingers loose and lax. “But then I found ye.”
Found her in a way no person on earth had. The inner, secret heart of her. And he damaged her, too. She understood he hadn’t meant to, but getting so far in, he’d trampled on the last piece of her she’d held safe.
The realization shook her pride.
Shook her soul.
His glance came her way. “Ye weren’t anything like I expected.”
Fury flared. “I wasn’t all dressed up with my make-up on.”
“Naw.” He frowned, confusion filling his expression as well as his eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Really?” She pulled out her weapons. Weapons she’d laid down weeks ago when this man came for her and took her. Angling her hips into a flare, she thrust her chest up. “I don’t believe you.”
He eyed her presentation. “Ye know, I can be a wee bit slow on the uptake, but I’m beginning to get an inkling of what happened in Edinburgh.”
“Are you?” She plastered on her best fake smile, hoping he was wrong.
“Aye.” He closed his eyes again, his hand lifting to massage brow. “Still, we’ll get there soon enough.”
“No, we won’t.” Since he wasn’t looking anymore, she dropped her weapons and sagged on the door instead. She was tired. Defeated. “Just let it go.”
“I don’t let anything go until I’ve figured it out.” His hand fell to the desk and one finger started to tap on the marble. “Where was I?”
“Cnych.”
His eyes flashed open at her swearword. “What does that mean? Something in Welsh?”
“I’ll tell you when you tell me what a ghràidh means.”
A winsome, almost bittersweet smile crossed his face. “I promise ye, I’ll tell ye at the end of this conversation. Even if it’s not something ye want to hear.”
“Then get on with it.” She didn’t allow her heart to melt this time at his expression. “I want to see my brother.”
He straightened, as if girding himself for something horrible. “I met ye. I watched ye. I studied ye.”
Hurt bloomed inside. “Oh, great. Like a specimen.”
“I suppose ye could say that. At first.” Another flash of his eyes came her way. “It’s how I usually deal with people.”
She knew that, understood that. She’d also come to appreciate it, too. It would be grossly unfair to throw him at himself. He was who he was, and so was she. The difference was she accepted him. But he wanted to change her. That’s why this whole thing wasn’t going to work. “Go on,” she barked. “I don’t have all day.”
He winced, his face filling with hurt. A hurt that tore at her staunch stance not to fold in front of him and become what he wanted.
“Ceri,” he said, his gentle voice wafting across the room. “Have a bit of patience with me.”
“I’ve had plenty of patience.” Suddenly realizing she had some control, she yanked her mobile from her back pocket. “I could have called the police and told them I was being held against my will.”
“Ye didn’t, though, and I appreciate that.” He paced around his desk in that gangly, yet elegant, way of his.
She braced for his nearness, but he settled himself on the marble edge, his long legs spread before him. Sighing with relief, she eyed him. “Finish your long, boring story.”
A soft chuckle rumbled from his throat. “I’m not going to win ye over with my tale, eh?”
“Like I said, you’ve already won everything, so I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He shook his head in rejection, and a stray curl of fire slipped out of the bun, sliding onto his cheek. It struck her—she’d never touch his hair again or smell his skin or have him inside her, strong and sure. The realization made sudden tears well in her eyes. She willed them back, catching them before they fell on her cheeks.
Yet he caught them, too, before she could hide her gaze. “Ceri. Lass.”
“Finish this,” she choked.
He sighed. Grabbing the tan packet, he ambled over to where she stood. Not touching, but too close. “I realized,” he murmured. “Realized ye loved the castle and the land far more than I ever had.”
“That’s not true. You love the place.”
“Now I do, that’s true. And I have ye to thank for it.”
Closing her eyes to his powerful draw, she held herself stiff. “I don’t want your thanks.”
“I know, deep down, ye want the castle.” He grabbed her hand and stuffed the packet into her limp grasp. “I know what it means to ye so I’m giving ye everything free and clear.”
Her eyes opened to a narrowed gaze as she tried to shake his grip and the packet away. “What do you mean by that?”
“Exactly what I said.” His frown turned to a scowl. “No ties. No demands. The castle is yours, with no mortgage, and no estate taxes due anymore.”
His claim slammed through her like a Highland windstorm. It couldn’t possibly be true. Even if Lorne Ross had told her truth after truth, she couldn’t comprehend this one. “You’re lying.”
He immediately snarled at her, his white teeth gleaming in the harsh light. “I don’t lie.”
That was true. He didn’t lie.
“I don’t understand.”
Looming over her, his expression still fierce, he stated, “It’s pretty simple. Most things are when ye get to the heart of them.�
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Her heart wasn’t simple. It hadn’t been for a very long time. Her heart was twisted and broken and hard. She couldn’t give him that. And she couldn’t give him a pretty version of herself either. “I can’t be—”
“Don’t say a thing.” His rawboned hands landed on the door, pinning her in. “Until I’ve had my say.”
A shiver of pain swept down her spine. She knew, in her gut, she did not want to hear what he had to say.
“Here’s my simple truth, Ceri,” he whispered near her ear, not meeting her stony gaze. “I met ye. I studied and watched—”
“Don’t—”
“And I fell in love.”
The words laced around her like a silky, slick rope. Something that would tie her into a knot and never let her go. “No.”
“Aye.” Pulling his head back, he kept coming at her, his expression filled with determination. “What do ye think a ghràidh means, lass? It means my love.”
She believed his claim. She also believed he loved a woman she couldn’t become. “I can’t,” she whispered to him. “I just can’t.”
He stilled, his chest punching out as he sucked in a breath. Then, it whooshed from him in a near gasp. “Right. Got it.”
Easing away, he gave her a weary smile.
That smile made her bleed inside. “I’m sorry—”
“There’s no need to be sorry.” His smile held. “I understand. I’m not normal.”
He said the words with such surety, the bleeding inside her gushed into a torrent. Even though she couldn’t be what he wanted her to be, this didn’t mean she was willing to leave him with this wretched conclusion. “That is not true at all. You’re perfectly normal.”
“No. I’m not.” Wrenching around in a jerky movement, he headed back to his desk. For the first time, she noticed the line of computers behind it, ready for duty. With a flick of his finger, the three screens filled with white-on-black code. “I’ll email Doc and let him know he can come and unlock the door. Your brother will be wanting to see ye, I’m sure.”
“No. Wait.” With a lurch, she tore across the room and past the desk. She grabbed his arm before he could punch any keys. “Wait just a moment.”
“See, here’s the thing, Ceri.” He turned to meet her gaze with a stark look of pain. “I got the message. Ye don’t want to be with me.”
“I…that’s…”
“And that’s okay.” He shrugged as if it meant nothing. “I’m an odd bird.”
“But…that’s not—”
“Ye have the castle now, and I want ye to build that shop of yours.” Waving at the tan packet in her hand, one she’d forgotten she held, he gave her another bleak smile. “Ye will have plenty of money from the tours, since ye don’t have to pay the taxes or mortgage anymore.”
He’d given her so much. Yes, he’d stolen her heart, yet in exchange, he’d given her hope and love. He’d given her his home and her dreams. The least she could do was tell him her truth. “I love you, too.”
Shock filled his slate-blue eyes, and his jaw dropped open.
“It won’t work, though.” Scuttling back, she slapped the packet on the desk.
“What?” He didn’t move a muscle, his gaze growing glazed.
“It won’t work,” she forced the confession out, “because I can’t be the woman you want me to be. And there’s nothing left to say.”
“What?” he said again.
Her hands fisted at how hard it was to tell him her weaknesses, her terrible scars, but she kept going. “I can’t be your doll.”
“Doll?” His eyes suddenly went clear and narrowed. “What the bloody hell does that mean?”
The tears came once more, this time in a rush. “I can’t dress up. I can’t wear those things you bought me.”
Before he could respond, before he could brush aside her truths, she headed for the door. Why hadn’t she let him call Doc? She’d have had time to confess her awful secrets and then she could have escaped the wretched aftermath. Instead, she was still stuck in this room with him.
“Wait, now.” He grabbed her before she even rounded the desk. “Just a minute, here.”
“There’s nothing left to say.”
“Ye are repeating yourself.” Wrestling her to a stop, his voice filled with humor. “As usual.”
“Don’t. Don’t do this.” She didn’t quite know what she was objecting to, yet she knew she couldn’t handle whatever he was going to say to her.
“Don’t do what, lass?” His gentle words wafted on her skin. He nudged at her chin. “Look at me.”
“No.” With a concentration born of pain and pride, she kept her gaze on the knot of his tie. But a red curl slipped into her view, bringing with it him. His bright brain, his fiery love, his fierce focus.
His sigh went through him and her, telling her they were so close they could be one. “Ceri.”
“I want to leave.”
“Repeating again.” He nudged at her chin once more. “So why don’t ye repeat the part about loving me one more time?”
“Lorne.” Giving up her last piece of pride, she met his gaze. “I can’t be what you want me to be.”
“A doll?” The blue of his eyes had never been so dark, so keen. “A woman who needs to dress up all the time and wear her pretty make-up—”
“Yes and I—”
“For me. Not herself.”
She stiffened as the lance of truth sliced into her. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Oh, I think ye do, lass. I’m finally getting the full picture of what happened in Edinburgh.”
“No.”
“Yes.” His dangerous voice curled around her. “And why it is ye tend to wear baggy jeans and ugly T-shirts, unless you’re working.”
“Stop.”
“I can’t, a ghràidh. Not if I’m going to win your hand.”
“What?” She gaped at him through the glaze of her sudden tears.
“Now if I let ye go, do ye promise to stay where you’re at for a spell?” His hands tightened on her, as if he weren’t sure he’d do it even if she agreed.
“Let me go.”
Sighing, he did what she asked. “I suppose I’ll have to learn to trust ye.”
“You already do.” The words burst from her mouth without her brain filtering the meaning behind them.
“I do.” He gave her a soft smile. “I’m glad ye know that and I know ye trust me in return. It will make this a bit easier, hopefully.”
“Make what easier?” Stomping away was a useless endeavor. The door was still locked, Lorne was still focused, and she was hurting but hoping all at the same time. “Tell me.”
“How about I show ye?” He pulled out a little, round box tied with a black velvet ribbon.
She stepped back, her heart leaping with joy and pain.
“Och. No going anywhere.” He glared at her. “I would appreciate it if you’d give me the chance to say my piece.”
“Lorne.”
A grin, his happy boyish grin, flashed across his face. “I love how ye say my name.”
“This isn’t—”
“And I love ye. With all my heart.”
“Lorne.”
“Aye. Here I am.” He eyed her before kneeling in front of her. “Now before I open this thing, I have something to say.”
Amusement, shiny hope, complete terror rushed inside her. “I can’t stop you, can I?”
“No. I don’t think ye will want me to, once I began.” His lips firmed and she could practically see the logical wheels swirling in his head. “I’ve said I love ye. So there’s that.”
She suppressed a crazed chuckle.
“But here’s the thing I think ye need to understand about that phrase, Ceri.” His gaze pinned her down. “I love ye for who ye are, not who I want ye to be.”
A big gulp of tears clogged her throat.
“I bought ye those pretty things because I thought ye might like them.” His brows furrowed. “Well, that’s not the who
le truth. I thought I might like them on ye as well.”
“Lorne.”
“But for all I care.” His tone was stilted, his voice monotone, yet something about his controlled nature flooded the words with meaning. “Ye can wear your baggy jeans for the rest of your life, if you’ll only allow me into it.”
Ceri’s heart went to mush. Again with this man. Again for the thousandth time. Because he’d heard her awful confessions and accepted them right away. He didn’t quibble around the edges or ask her to change her mind. He didn’t demand she fall into his wishes or pretend what she told him wasn’t important.
He did accept her. Just the way she was.
Lorne Ross is true.
He looked at the small box lying in his palm. “I think I might have made another mistake here, but I’m hoping ye will forgive me. And ye can change it to anything ye want.”
The reality was, she’d forgive him for anything now. Because he’d taken her hurt and pain and turned it into joy. “Open the box.”
His grin came once more. “There’s the lass I know. Confident. Strong. Ready for anything.”
“I suppose I’m ready for you.”
“Are ye?” Delight flushed his face red. “Then I better open this box, eh?”
The ring was more than pretty. More than what she’d expected from a billionaire. The blindingly brilliant diamond sat within a simple silver mounting. It looked like something the Queen of England would wear. Or a billionaire’s wife.
“Oh.”
“I know, I know.” Lunging to his feet, he wrapped his arms around her. “Don’t run.”
“I won’t.” Wearing that ring would be a statement she didn’t know if she could handle. Still, he’d promised her she could change the ring if she wanted.
He latched onto her eyes with a fierce glare. “Will ye marry me? With whatever ring ye want?”
A burst of sure, sweet love filled her, washing away the pain of her past and bringing hope back to her heart for the first time since she was a girl. Lorne Ross had done this for her. Given his truth to her, and in the process, transformed her life. What wouldn’t a woman give to a man who did that? Her hand was only the first of many gifts she planned on giving him. “Yes. I will.”
His eyes went blank for a minute like he couldn’t take her truth in. Then he grinned, the boyish grin that got her every time.
