Enticed by the Billionaire: A BWWM Billionaire Romance Collection

by Raina Wilde

  He released a low chuckle that revealed his amusement at her fear. “How about a drink to dull the senses?”

  Cat hurried into the adjoining room and pulled a glass and a bottle of port from the shelves. She poured and handed him the cup with shaking hands. He took a deep drink and watched her over the rim of the cup. “You too.” He spoke between drinks. “I don’t need you sticking me with trembling hands.”

  This drew a nervous laugh from Catríona. She was relieved to find that her fear of the situation at hand was distracting her from the fear of the man before her. She retrieved another cup and poured a share for herself before refilling his.

  They drank in a silence only broken by Greum’s occasional requests to see if her hands had ceased their tremors. When they had stilled sufficiently, he dragged his chair into the light of the fire and sat down once more.

  “You’ll need fresh water and some clean cloth to rinse with. Also, some fresh strips for bandages.” He tossed a pouch of money on the table. “Take whatever the supplies will cost, and double for your efforts.”

  Catríona returned to the stockroom to gather the supplies with silent obedience. When she returned, Greum had removed his white shirt.

  “What are you doing?” She tried to look anywhere but at his exposed torso.

  “What did you expect?” He laughed. “You cannot sew my shirt to my skin.”

  “I know that, but…”

  He cut her off. “You have seen a man without his shirt before, haven’t you?” He was enjoying teasing her. The realization annoyed Catríona.

  “Of course I have.” She scoffed. “It’s the mess I don’t want to see.” She lied. What she really did not want to see was his massive expanse of chest. Broad, chiseled muscles were accentuated by the shadows cast from the hearth and, if she were honest with herself, Catríona could not stop staring at the masterpiece that was Greum’s body. She had seen a male chest before but she had never, until this very moment, seen one that made her heart race and her hands long to trace the many contours of a man’s body.

  She placed the gathered items on a low stool at Greum’s feet. With a deep breath she knelt beside him, soaked the cloth, and wiped away enough blood around his hand that she could see the full extent of the cut. It would have to be fully cleaned after the stitching, she decided. The constant stream from the site would make it impossible to clean beforehand.

  Catríona took the curved needle from Greum’s proffered hand and threaded it. She looked up into his watchful gaze and felt the strange worry that this would cause him pain. The gash was long, about the length of her hand from wrist to fingertip, and would take many stitches to close. She turned quickly, grabbed the bottle of port, and took a deep drink straight from the bottle. She handed it to her patient, who took a small sip before resting it on his knee while awaiting her ministrations.

  The first stitch was the worst. Catríona’s hand hovered with the needle for a long moment before she worked up the courage to push it through the skin. She tied a knot and allowed the thread to hang limply from Greum’s side.

  “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Greum teased, watching her battle the urge to be sick. His hand briefly grazed her cheek as he raised her chin to look at him. “I promise, it doesn’t hurt.”

  “You’re a liar.” She laughed, appreciating the distraction.

  “Well, it doesn’t hurt much.” He released a deep chuckle that Catríona found quite appealing. “Just keep going. You will not hear a complaint from me.”

  She picked the needle back up from where it hung at his side and braced herself for the rest of the task. If she worked quickly it would be over before she realized it, she told herself. Stitch after agonizing stitch Catríona worked with sheer determination. When she tied the final knot and clipped the thread she thought that there was no greater feeling in the world than to be done. A strange sense of pride washed over her followed by a small amount of gratitude to the man who had helped her through the ordeal. Perhaps she was merely giddy from the drink but Catríona felt positively buoyant.

  She retrieved the damp cloth and returned to the task of clearing the blood away from the wound. It was not until she began to pat it dry that she realized that Greum was sitting as if frozen in his chair. She looked up at him, concerned that perhaps she had harmed him, only to realize that somehow the air had thickened in the room. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the look in his eyes as he watched her, the deep green of his gaze boring into her with a force that had her holding her breath.

  She made an excuse to move away from him, taking the soiled water to dump behind the building. He had been stilled by her hands upon his body, she realized. Catríona waited a moment for her cheeks to stop burning before returning to the small room. Greum still sat as she had left him, though his eyes followed her around the room.

  With quick movements, Catríona wrapped the bandage around his ribs. Now that she was aware of his response, it was hard to ignore her own. In order for her arms to meet behind his back, and pass the bandage between her hands, her cheek would brush against his chest. When she tried to lean her head away from him, her breast brushed him instead, causing her to drop the bandage and forcing her to begin anew. He tried to make it easier for her by remaining perfectly still but, even when she attempted to walk the bandage around him, her knuckles still grazed his flesh as she guided the path of the bandage.

  When it was finished, and Catríona felt as if her nerves could handle no more, Greum stood up and once again seemed to fill the entire space with his presence. He took a slow step toward her, expressing his gratitude with words that Catríona’s ears were too full of her own heartbeat to hear.

  She should have backed away, but it was her turn to be paralyzed. Catríona could not have moved if she wanted to, though a small part of her brain admitted that she did not. When his hands came to settle on her waist, they hesitated for a long moment, waiting for her to rebuke him. But she did not. She only continued to stare at the bandage across his chest as if it were the most important thing in the world. She knew that it was a terrible thing to want to kiss Greum, but the traitorous part of her brain wondered what it would be like with such a man. The two sides of Cat’s brain warred. She could neither move forward nor pull away, and she was acutely aware of him watching the battle play across her face.

  He was incredibly patient, and that made her angry. Was not the Clan MacConaill supposed to be forceful and brutish? Had he behaved that way, she might have had the resolve to hate him in that moment. Instead, he waited with agonizing patience, ensuring that Catríona decided for herself the next move.

  She raised her face to look back at him, his own was serious as he evaluated her response. Catríona knew that, despite the longing building inside of her, she could never initiate a romantic encounter with her sworn enemy and yet, she still could not pull away. In the end, she settled her hands on his forearms that extended between them but moved no other part of her body.

  It was then that he moved. With a gentle tug he pulled her against him and brought his mouth down over her own. Catríona’s mind spun like a whirlwind. Her fingers curled against his skin and she found herself pressing against him with uncharacteristic abandon. Greum’s mouth was tender against her lips, his hands covering her back in warmth. There was another unfamiliar warmth that was coiling in Catríona’s stomach. A yearning that she had never experienced before, one that would later frighten her but at this moment only increased the thrill. His fingers stroked her back, sending tendrils of sensation ricocheting through her body.

  “Cat,” He murmured her name against her lips.

  The nickname brought back a surge of angry memories, as she had known it would. She pulled away and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. His brows were furrowed in confusion, but he clearly understood the action. With one swift motion he grabbed his tattered shirt, muttered a breathy apology and quickly vacated the premises. Catríona did not look out after him, but instead, locked the d
oor, grabbed the bottle of port and stationed herself in front of the waning fire to contemplate her inexcusable behavior.

  She had almost resolved, after the kiss, not to join Deirdre in the castle, but by the next morning she realized that it was silly to allow such a moment to prevent her from her ultimate goal. Greum was a man, and she a woman, Catríona reminded herself. It was not uncommon for there to pass moments of weakness between the sexes that played no role in the reality of their relationships to one another. It was her burning hatred that had been mistaken for passion, she told herself, a surge of feeling that was misinterpreted in the moment.

  With her head held high and her bundle slung over her shoulder she bid farewell to her hosts and made her way north to the castle. As she passed through the courtyard she noticed a large gathering standing, once again, around Father Kendrick as he spoke. She had no intention of listening, but was forced to pause upon hearing her name.

  “There is a rumor, that the men overheard last night, that the Lady Sutharlainn has been taken prisoner not five nights past.” Cat breathed a sigh of relief that the true date of her departure was so obscured. She pitied her uncle, who likely tried to keep her adventure secret in the hope of her swift return. “The Laird has sent an envoy to Castle Sutharlainn to see if we can be of any service in the recovery of the lass. We made a vow to protect the kin of our own Moira Larkin, the former Lady herself.” The crowd made quick gestures to cross themselves. “And now, I ask ye all, to pray for the young Mistress in her trials. That she might be returned safely, and without harm.” The crowd murmured its agreement. “And that the Clan Sutharlainn may be freed from the evils that plague its people, that justice might be served, and our ties reunited with the bond that was once promised!”

  Catríona stood at the edge of the crowd in an attempt to understand Father Kendrick’s speech. There was much of it that she did not understand. She knew that the MacConaills had broken their bond of loyalty but seriously doubted that would ever be restored. What surprised her most was that the speech was not filled with loathing against her own clan, but instead with hope and prayers for her wellbeing. Did they care for her over her father because she was the blood of their kin? If they wished her well and happy, then why did they destroy what little remained of her immediate family?

  Cat shook her head and moved past the crowd. She was pleased that the false story spread about her capture would keep all suspicion away from her arrival on MacConaill lands. She smoothed a hand over the pocket of her skirts, taking comfort in the weight of the vile that lay inside.

  When she arrived in the castle she was instructed to unpack her belongings in the small room adjoining Deirdre’s chambers and wash before joining the woman to break the fast in the great hall below.

  Upon entering the feast hall, Deirdre stood and motioned for Catríona to sit beside her. Cat joined her at the head table with a small curtsy and a “g’morning, Mistress.”

  Deirdre leaned back into her chair and smiled.

  “I’m glad you’ve arrived. There are far too many men around for my sanity. I shall very much like having a female companion to lighten the conversations with my boorish brothers.” She said this loudly just as the three men joined the table. One, a fair haired man Catríona believed was named Aiden, tossed a small piece of fruit at his sister as punishment. “You brute!” she laughed. “It’s all talk of beasts and battles, bears and brothels. I’ve had my fill of it.”

  “I saw a bear, in the woods, not long ago.” Catríona admitted, amused with the hearty banter between the siblings. The table went silent and all eyes turned to Cat. She assumed it was because they feared for her danger near such a beast.

  Deirdre raised her wine glass to her lips before speaking. “Do tell the story. I hope you weren’t harmed.” Her eyes shifted to her brothers. “I’m afraid our lands have quite an uncontrollable bear problem.”

  Even the sister seemed enraptured with the topic, so Catríona went on.

  “It was early morning and I was…” She adjusted her story slightly. “walking through the woods when I happened upon the largest bear I ever did see.”

  “What was it doing?” Kenzie pressed.

  “Gathering its breakfast, I presume.” Cat shrugged. “It stood upon a hill and stretched toward the sky. I had no idea bears were so large, for I’ve only ever seen a pelt. It was the most magnificent thing, as black as the night sky. ”

  Aiden slapped Greum across the back causing his brother to choke on the bread he had just eaten.

  “Oh, that bear.” Kenzie smiled. “He’s somewhat of a pet around the castle. You can practically walk right up to him and pet him.” Kenzie grunted because Greum had just punched him in the stomach. “You should try it some time.” He said with pained laughter.

  Deirdre must have noticed Catríona’s confusion because she waved her hand unconcernedly at the men.

  “Oh, don’t mind them, Catlin.” She patted the top of Cat’s hand. “I never know what these bairns are fighting about.” She shot them a look that warned the men to start behaving as adults before continuing. “Now. What’s this I hear about Lady Sutharlainn gone missing?”

  “Captured.” Aiden said through a mouth full of sausage. “Father sent an envoy.”

  “That was silly.” She argued. “We’ll be receiving his head back on a spike.”

  “You think by now they’d have figured out that it wasn’t us.” Kenzie grumbled. Catríona’s ears were ringing with excitement. So soon and she was already hearing talk of the topic she most desired. She willed herself to remain silent, not wanting to impede their conversation or raise suspicion of her interest. Of course they would claim innocence in the presence of a stranger.

  “Yes, well, there’s no proof otherwise. Is there?” Deirdre’s responded with nonchalance.

  “It was a trap.” Greum spoke softly.

  “It matters not, now.” Their sister spoke to them with motherly knowledge. “Lady Sutharlainn will never consent to renew the peace if she suspects your involvement. There is no point in pressing the matter. It’s a wonder she hasn’t sent her clansmen here to slaughter you all for retribution.”

  Aiden laughed as if he though this possibility absurd. “Good luck fighting what you can’t find.” His confidence made her want to do exactly as Deirdre had suggested and test her army against their own.

  Catríona finished her breakfast in silence. She had been right to suspect that living in their presence would fuel the hate that boiled her blood. Her eyes shifted from Aiden, to Greum, to Kenzie, then further down the table to their father. Four men, she told herself. Four lives, for the price of one.

  The following fortnight passed so quickly that Catríona barely noticed. She was surprised to find that she truly liked Deirdre, for all her frank commentary and hearty laughter. Had her life been different, Cat could imagine she and Deirdre having been the best of friends.

  Her days were measured, though, by encounters with Greum, who seemed to be everywhere in the castle. Catríona put her discomfort aside and tried to encourage small conversations with him, in the hope that she might eventually be able to pry from him the story of her father’s demise. Their acquaintance grew from courteous acknowledgment, to casual updates, and eventually to Greum joining her midday when she sat, sewing, in the shade of the trees in the gardens.

  One day, as he lay on his back in the soft grass, tossing a fallen apple into the air above his head, she finally broached the topic.

  “Greum, do you remember my first day in the castle?”

  He turned his head toward her and held the apple in his still hands. He nodded.

  “Well,” She attempted to speak as if she were only vaguely interested in the topic. “You, and your siblings, were discussing something about Clan Sutharlainn. Something you said that you didn’t do. Something that the missing Lady might never allow peace for…” She set her sewing aside and crossed her hands in her lap. “What was it?”

  Greum returned to his game
with the apple. “They think we poisoned the Laird.”

  “Did you?” she asked tentatively.

  Greum hoisted himself onto one arm and looked at her with a piercing glare.

  “All your time here and you still think the MacConaills are capable of that sort of treachery?” He rolled onto his stomach and spun the fruit in his fingers, staring at it but seeing another time entirely. “The other clans hate us because we’re different, but we had better reasons for being there that day.”

  He spoke with such sincerity that Catríona’s heart went out to him.

  Cat scooted forward and laid a hand over his.

  “Because the Lady Moira was kin to Clan MacConaill?”

  “Partially.” He admitted, looking up at her with a half-smile.

  “Why else?” She pressed.

  Greum dropped the apple so that Catríona’s hand fell between his in its place.

  “It doesn’t matter.” His thumbs rubbed slow circles on her palm as he stared at their joined hands. Catríona’s heart beat fast and her breath came in shaky bursts. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation of his fingers tracing the lines of her hand. He must have felt her tremble because a moment later his lips pressed against the sensitive skin. Catríona opened her eyes to see Greum watching her.

  With slow movements, never breaking eye contact nor releasing her hand, Greum raised himself into a seated position. His thigh pressed against hers, her knee resting beside his hip. His hand raised and tucked a stray lock of chestnut hair behind her ear.

  Catríona felt a knot rise in her throat. Her opinion of this man was terribly conflicted. He was known as a fierce warrior, and yet was so gentle. He claimed to be falsely accused of her father’s murder, yet he and the clan were riddled with secrets. He was the very face of her enemy, and yet she craved his touch.

  “Cat.” His fingers brushed her shoulder and followed the length of her arm down to the elbow. This time the name did not recall memories of her hatred. He spoke her name as a man should. The result was an increasing heat in her body, a coiling tension that built in the very center of her body.