If I do, I could be right back where I was three years ago, and that is not an option for me. I’d barely survived that experience; I won’t open myself up to more heartbreak.
“You realize you’re being a right wanker.”
I look up from my desk to see Dad lounging in the doorway, his hair disheveled—as always—from hours spent pouring over his books and catalogues.
Dad is a classic case of the lord of the manner. The oddly eccentric gent who cares more about his leisure pursuits than business or money. To be fair, we have so much of the stuff that I could sell the company and still leave my great-grandchildren a tidy sum, so the fact that he’d told me to take the helm or let him sell ten years ago isn’t a black spot against him.
He just doesn’t have the desire to rule and nurture a business and I do, so I’d taken it up and turned it into my own personal toy. I love wheeling and dealing. The thrill of acquisition is my greatest pleasure and something that kept me from going mad after—
“Cam, lad.”
“Sorry, got lost there for a minute,” I say, waving at the chairs by the hearth and joining him with two snifters of Scotland’s finest. “You here to chew me out as per orders from her majesty?”
“Not hardly. Just wanted to make sure you know what you’re doing. That girl is not what you think, lad, and we both know it,” he says, stretching his legs out toward the fire and sighing at the heat.
“Maybe. Maybe not. I can’t forget that she had a chance to prove her case and refused it.”
“You can’t tell me you were okay with having some quack shove a foot long needle into her and her unborn child. It’s barbaric and completely unnecessary. At worst she’s lying, which yes, I won’t deny could be the case. But just look at what her arrival has done for Margie. The woman stopped crying into her pillow at night. I can tell you I am just grateful that I didn’t have to watch my wife go batty with grief.”
That’s Dad. The man adores Mum to the point of obsession, and he makes no bones about loving her even more than his precious Louis the Fourth collectables. I’d always wanted a love that strong until I’d been shown the error of putting that much of myself into a woman.
Treacherous creatures the lot.
Except Mum, but that goes without saying.
“Just don’t be so…brutal is all I’m asking. She’s not in a condition to be upset, and your mother gets so unhappy I end up cuddling my bleeding pillow. Give your old man a break won’t you. Some of us like having a soft, happy woman.”
“Unnecessary.”
He laughs at my grimace and raises his glass.
“That episode with Letitia shouldn’t color your every move. She hoodwinked us all, and we’re lucky to be rid of her. Don’t let your bitterness push away something that has the power to make us all happy, Cam. Please.”
I snort and sip my drink, staring into the flames but seeing Lettie’s face the day I caught her and Rob playing tonsil hockey. Worst day of my life finding my very pregnant fiancée sucking the lips off of my brother.
And then I’d discovered something worse, worse even than having been betrayed by my own flesh and blood and I’d sworn never to put myself in that position.
Dammit.
I wish I could do what Dad wants and trust Shaw, really I do. But I can’t because I know that the moment I do, I will do everything in my power to be over and inside her and that would just be wrong.
I’m going to have to do something about the constant arousal though before I do something that I’ll regret.
“Well, I think I’ll go out for the evening,” I say, making up my mind and standing with a weary stretch.
Dad gives me a knowing look and shakes his head with a sigh.
“You’re not going to get what you’re looking for, lad, but go ahead and fool yourself if you prefer. Just don’t do anything that will make matters worse for you. That hole you’re digging is getting too deep for you to crawl out of unscathed.”
“Goodnight, Dad.”
“Night, lad. Tell Sophie I say hello, and that she needs to find a man who’ll marry her.”
I ignore his laughter and make my way outside and to my car, the hair at my nape rising uncomfortably. Sophie has been my go-to since the days of chaos when I’d been trying to shake my anger and hurt.
She’s not serious about me, and I’m not anywhere near serious about her, but she provides me with something I need, release, and that’s good enough for me.
Especially now when no amount of self-pleasuring will take care of the need I have for that infernal woman.
Chapter Eight
Shaw
This is awful. Horrible. A disaster of nightmarish proportions, and all I can do about it is plaster a smile on my face and pretend that I don’t hear, see, or feel the veiled comments flying my way.
No one knows who I am, save for my closeness with the Stones and the fact that I’m living in their home. They’ve been speculating since I walked in, my belly preceding me, and haven’t stopped since.
Nothing is said in front of Marge, of course, and the dear darling is flitting around the room in her element, taking great pleasure in avoiding the subtle questions and the outright curiosity.
We’d agreed not to tell anyone that Robert is the father of my child because as she put it, it’s none of their bloody business, and also she doesn’t want me subjected to their brand of concern.
I rather suspect she’s afraid that people will put two and two together and realize he knocked me up and flew the coop before the seed had even taken root, and I can’t blame her.
It’s one thing to know that your son was a light-skirt and another to have people gossiping about him post-mortem.
“Sooo, this is proving to be even worse than that time Fanny Cartwright put worms in my punch.”
I snort and giggle when Molly levels a glare at a stuck up blonde across the way, her green eyes shooting sparks that should have set the woman’s extension ablaze long ago.
“As far as I’m concerned, they should all be taken out and shot. Bloody snobs.”
I giggle again and toast her with my orange juice, liking her brand of conversation, and the fact that she’s asked me not one thing about my belly and the sower of my misfortune. She’s a cute little redhead with a curvy figure and the sarcastic female equivalent of John McClane.
I smooth out the flowing skirt of the lilac dress I’ve worn and avoid looking across the room where Cameron is engaged in a conversation with another one of the vapid zombies like Fanny and her crew.
How he can even breathe with the cloud of perfume permeating the air is beyond me, but that’s not my business. And no, it doesn’t bug me at all that he seems to be enjoying her attention, and it definitely doesn’t chap my ass that he hasn’t even bothered to say hello to me.
“God, he’s so bloody handsome I can’t stand it. How a woman like Lettie could ruin things after landing him is so beyond me,” Molly says, giving Cameron a not so subtle once over.
I don’t know what she’s talking about and hold my tongue even though I’m dying to know who Lettie is and what the hell happened there.
“She was pregnant you know, and I thought poor Cameron would combust with joy. And then everyone found out that she’d been fooling around with his best mate, Jonathan, and that the baby was actually his. Terrible scandal that.”
Huh.
Is it a coincidence that his ex had hoodwinked him like a pro and that he’s torturing me this way? Not fucking likely. And that knowledge only serves to piss me off. Not enough though because instead of stalking across the room and kicking his finely muscled ass, I find myself feeling terrible for him.
It must have been so humiliating for the guy to walk around like a proud papa only to find out that your woman has been growing squash instead of your prestigious, award-winning asparagus.
Yeah, I know that I’ve chosen a phallic looking vegetable for Cameron. I’ll think about that later.
“That’s har
sh.”
What else can I say? I’m not family, and I doubt he’ll be too pleased that I’m getting the dirt on him even if I’m not even trying. And I hate gossiping. Hate it, but short of telling Molly, my new bestie to shut up, there’s nothing I can do.
“Quite. He booted her right quick and hasn’t been serious about a girl since.”
“Hhmm.”
“Oh look, Fanny and her bunch are headed over. How thrilling. Why I’m about to swoon with excitement!” she mutters, plastering on a smile that’s says—“I’ve just swallowed a roach and I’m trying not to hurl.”
Now we’re twins.
“Why hello there. You must be Shaw.”
She sounds like a cross between Hermione Granger and Professor Snape with the oily air of Voldemort and that Scampers guy who’d been a rat that belonged to Ron Weasley.
Yeah, Harry Potter is big over here, and I am now a total fan.
“Shaw Mallory.”
I don’t expound because it’s not nice to meet her or her mean girl crew and I’m not a liar.
“Sooo, there’s been some speculation since we heard that you’re pregnant and living with the Stones, and we’ve just been dying to know…”
She breathes, leaning in conspiratorially and winking at me as if we’re friends or as if I’m dumb enough to think we could ever be.
“Hhmm?”
“Well. Someone got you in trouble,” she says as a hint, staring pointedly at my middle, and I smile when Molly growls beside me.
“True. I’m not a frog or a lizard,” I muse.
Molly giggles when Fanny’s eyes glaze over a little, and I can tell the statement has flown right over her head. So, not intelligent. Check.
“Well, uh, are you going to put us out of our misery and clear up this week’s mystery? My money is on one of the cousins. Sad that side of the family and so not a surprise that one of them couldn’t keep their dirty laundry out of the public eye.”
Is she really likening me to a used gym sock? And did she really just insult the Stone cousins?
Okay, now I’m annoyed. I’ve met some of the Stone cousins from Wales, and while they may be a little wild, they’re sweethearts. Flirtatious but harmless.
“I rather think you’re overstepping, Fanny dear. Why don’t you run along and go kill a few more brain cells with more hairspray and Botox.”
That gets the toothpicks all aflutter, and I tense when she smiles and gives Molly a sneering once over.
“You’d do well to stay in your corner where you belong and leave us alone, Molly. Or have you forgotten that slumber party we had three years ago. If I remember you’ve been carrying a torch for a certain Stone. Wouldn’t want that getting out.”
Molly tenses, and I almost feel the embarrassment radiating from her before Fanny looks back down at me and smirks.
“So who knocked you up and gave you a ticket to the high life? I can’t imagine one of the Stones would find a plump hen like you attractive.”
I’m literally flapping my mouth when I feel him come up behind me and lay a hand over my shoulder. God, wasn’t he just across the room talking to anorexic Annie?
And God, does he always have to be around when something embarrassing happens.
“Not all men like fucking a bag of rattling bones, Fanny dear. Why don’t you take your friends and run along now. You’ve lost nothing here.”
Oh ssnnaaap!
Did he, Mr. Sauerkraut just defend me to his little society misses?
I’d better go check and make sure the freaking sky isn’t falling.
But first I need to surreptitiously dry my eyes before he sees how silly I am. I’m mostly teary because I’m mortified, but if asked, it’s the hormones—and I’m sticking with my story.
“Have you eaten yet?”
His voice is clipped, and when I look up, I see the same pinched expression that I’ve become so familiar with.
“Uh not yet. Molly and I are waiting for the others to clear off.”
“Yes. The last time I tried to fill a plate with one of those in the vicinity, my mother was so embarrassed she made me eat carrot sticks for a full week. Daddy had to sneak me food after she went to bed, but I can’t stomach another carrot for at least a decade. Carrot tops should not eat carrots.”
We giggle, and I see Cameron’s mouth curl indulgently.
“I’ll bring you each a plate. Oh, and Kent is here Molly. He’s been looking for you.”
She blushes and blows out a breath when he sidles off to the buffet, and I raise a brow.
“Oh shush, don’t look at me so. He’s just…”
“Your secret looovah?”
Her face goes even redder, and I swear I didn’t think it was possible for a redhead to look that good with a red face and neck.
“So. You and Kent, huh?”
“No. Kent Stone is just looking to apologize for a comment he made when he wasn’t aware that I was within hearing distance.” She sniffs, keeping her eyes down.
“Nasty, huh?”
I’m currently watching the man make his way through the crowd, his blonde head turning this way and that before he spots us and starts making a beeline our way.
“Quite. Too be fair he was a little worse for the wear on whiskey, and his brother was teasing him unmercifully. It’s my own bloody fault. I had the biggest crush on him, and he likely wouldn’t have needed to say anything if I hadn’t been staring at him like a moon-eyed ninny.”
She’s still looking down and hasn’t seen Kent, so she almost squeals when a pair of black leather shoes comes into her line of sight and she looks up to see Kent standing over her.
“Molly love. Can we talk?”
“No. Go away,” she hisses, glancing around nervously. “You know what they’ll do to me if they see you talking to me.”
I see Fanny and the motley crew of airheads glaring our way, and I almost pity poor Molly until Kent leans down, grabs the back of her neck and plants a hot, wet, tongue kiss on her open mouth.
Oooh my.
What I wouldn’t give for one of those.
“That should keep them busy enough,” he mutters before dragging her up and hustling her out of the room.
“About time that idiot did something about that. I thought he’d die for pining after the poor girl.”
I snort when Cameron sits down beside me and hands me a plate heaped with food and starts digging in to Molly’s.
“You told him where she was?”
“Yes.”
“Why? He said something mean about her. She doesn’t need his pity.”
That gets his attention, and he looks over at me for a second before grinning.
“He called her a ranga, that’s Australian for Redhead and said she was full figured. He was drunk and trying to save her virtue. When he woke up the next morning and recalled what he said, you’d have sworn the world was ending. He’s been trying to see her for months, but she’s never alone.”
“Ah, so you’re a romantic.”
“No. And there’s no need for bloody sarcasm. I just don’t think that she’s doing herself any favors running from him when she so obviously wants more. She’s a nice girl; she deserves more than a mother who starves her and ‘friends’ who humiliate her in public. Kent’s a good bloke.”
I nod and pick at a little cake, not bothering to tell him that I’m just as nice as anybody else and not deserving of his brand of friendship.
Chapter Nine
Cam
By the time we can politely leave, I am so hard I’d had to remove my jacket and use it as a shield to hide the state of my arousal from the vultures that hadn’t stopped looking our way.
She’s gorgeous and exactly what I’d wanted in a woman, before I’d sworn off the creatures. She smells like wisteria and vanilla, and her cream is a shade just lighter than honey.
I’ve spent the last hour wondering if she’d taste as sweet and go down as smoothly as the golden syrup. And then I’d started thinking about
what else I can lick from her and things had deteriorated from there.
She, of course, is blissfully ignorant of the state she’s reduced me to, and I find myself gritting my teeth and glaring at her the whole drive home while ignoring Mum’s narrowed eyes.
I want her. No, at this point, it is so far past want I have to be honest with myself and admit that I need her. So have her I will. Tonight.
“Cameron darling, did you see Kent? That lad has a real knack for causing a stir.” She chuckles with a tsk. “I hear wedding bells for dearest Molly in the foreseeable future, and I hope that mother of hers gets her comeuppance when dearest Millie steals her daughter and refuses to give her back.”
I grin at the thought of my Aunt Millie taking one look at Molly and going into raptures. The woman is a force of nature, and according to her, she can’t wait much longer for daughters and grandbabies.
Poor Molly will not only be overtaken by Kent and his dominant arse, but by her mother-in-law and a doting Uncle Arthur.
“True.”
“So how did you like Molly, Ducky dear?”
I see a dazzling smile curve her lips, and it startles me so much I have to clear my throat and shift to relieve the discomfort in my pants.
“She’s great and you know it. She’s got a running commentary about every plastic we met, and she’s so sweet. I really like her. We have plans to go shopping for her cousin, Belle’s baby shower.”
“Brilliant! I’ll come along, and we can get some more things for our little sprout.”
Mum grabs her phone and starts making one of her famous lists and misses the shadow that flits over her face. I don’t, and the thought of her not wanting to go shopping, especially for the baby makes my anger spark.
“You don’t want to buy things for the baby, but for yourself it’s fine?”
Curse my bloody tongue! Mum stops what she’s doing and gives me a chiding look.
“Shaw told me I’ve bought way too much already so I fully understand her reasoning since I’m already storing some of the items in the extra cupboard. I, however, don’t care if it’s too much, I want more. And as for the clothes I purchased for her, she only wears them out when I insist on her company because she doesn’t want to embarrass me. The rest of the time she wears her own things. You’d know this if you spent even a bloody moment looking at her instead of seeing the past,” she says with a snarl. “Now hush up unless you intend to apologize or say something nice.”
LUCI (The Naughty Ones Book 2) Page 15
