Lord of the Isles: International Billionaires VIII: The Scots (27 page)

The best of life and the best of him.

Laying a hand on the closed laptop, he decided. He didn’t want to show her anything until he was sure of where he was going and where he’d end up. “Good morning.”

“Is it?” She drifted to his side and stared at him with concern. Then her face lit with a smile at what she apparently saw. “It is, isn’t it?”

“Aye.” Snaking an arm around her cotton-covered waist, he patted her hip.

Her fingers slid through his hair, making him shiver with pleasure. “Because of us together.”

The words zinged through him, ricocheting from his brain to his gut. What she said wasn’t true. He’d done nothing last night but break apart. She’d been the one who put him back together. “Naw, naw, lass.”

Her body stiffened in his grasp. He tried to think of a way to describe to her that it was her joy of life that saved him, not anything he’d done last night. He fingered the laptop, wishing he was already well and could offer himself to her with confidence. Looking up at her, he opened his mouth to explain. Something. Anything.

Her attention was not focused on his face. It was focused on his hand lying on the closed computer. Her pretty lips firmed and her blonde brows arched. “What were you looking at when I came in?”

“Nothing much.” He skidded from the thought of telling her the broken part of him needed therapy. That he’d need help for a while before he’d be well. Even though she’d suggested it herself, he still didn’t like the thought of confiding how far he had to go to the woman he’d fallen in love with. “Nothing ye need to fash yourself about.”

“Really.” Her gaze narrowed as she swung to look him in the eye.

Iain struggled to find the words that would tell her she shouldn’t worry. He’d figure this out, figure himself out and prove to her his worth. He couldn’t meet her gaze, so instead he stared at the laptop. “Just doing some research.”

Her hand dropped from his hair. “Some of your plans for the islands?”

He glanced at her again, the sudden coolness in her voice startling him. Her face was blank, a look he’d never seen before. But he didn’t want to drag her into this
shite
he’d have to go through to get well. She’d already suffered enough with him. She deserved better. She deserved the best. “Some plans on certain things.”

Lovely Lilly stepped away from him and pinned a fake smile on her face. He knew it was fake because her eyes didn’t light like they usually did when she smiled at him. “I think I’ll get dressed.”

“Um.” He glanced down at his naked self, trying to lighten her mood. “I guess I should, too.”

She laughed. Yet, that was fake, too. It held none of her usual merriment or delight in life, in him, in herself.

“Lil—”

Her abrupt twist from him cut off his fumbling attempt to fix whatever was wrong. Because there was something wrong. He sensed it.

She marched around the arch, disappearing, her spine straight, her shoulders stiff.

“Lilly.” Following her, he couldn’t help the inevitable erection as his gaze drifted to the swing of her hips and her long, graceful legs. The lust pulsed inside him, scrambling his already-confused thinking. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing much.” She strode to the armoire where she’d taken over a small corner with her collection of clothes. Pulling out a pair of jeans, she stared at the floor as she pulled them on. “I think I’ll go see how dad is doing after the storm.”

“Um. Okay.” He shifted from one foot to the other, suddenly very aware of his nakedness. Pacing to his own stash of clothes, he grabbed a pair of his jeans. “I’ll go with ye.”

“No.” Her sharp rejection made him wobble back on his heels. She didn’t even glance his way. “You should stay here and make your plans.”

His plans included leaving her and his island for at least six weeks. Would she stay while he was gone? Would she stay with him when he wasn’t well, wasn’t whole?

Should he even ask it of her?

Lilly was vibrant with life, filled with her own dreams and plans. She hadn’t confided any of that to him, but he was sure she had them. A
donas
always had her own plans and her own dreams. Self-disgust swamped him. He hadn’t even thought of what she wanted for her life. Hadn’t even asked her one question about what she looked forward to.

Why the hell would he assume she’d center her life on his?

She pulled off his T-shirt, dropping it to the floor as if she couldn’t care less. Then, she threw one of her own T-shirts over her head, yanking it into place. Her face had gone stony. “In fact, I think I might stay a few days with my dad. You seem to be fine now. With all your plans and stuff.”

His hands fisted on his jeans, his heart lurching into a gallop. “I…uh—”

“After all, I came here to Somairie to visit him.” She gave him a straight look, a hard one, a look she’d never given him before, even when he’d been at his most obnoxious.

The look screamed at him for answers.

His brain rushed around in his head, trying to find the words to stop her, stop this, trying to find an answer for her unasked, unknown questions. “Um, maybe ye should—”

“Right. It’s decided.” Bending over, she tugged her backpack from under the armoire and began to stuff her clothes into it.

All her clothes.

“
Donas
,” he gasped, his skin turning cold, goose bumps covering his flesh. “I don’t think ye—”

“I have an offer.”

His stunned brain slid to a halt inside him. An offer? What did she mean?

“An offer,” he managed to stutter out.

“Right. A good one, actually.” She swept her pretty hair combs off the top of the armoire, leaving the little bottles of lotion he’d bought her behind. “One I have to leave for soon, if I want to accept.”

The disregard for his gifts shot through him like sniper fire. Then, her words scattershot across his wounded emotions, leaving only destruction behind.

Leave soon.

Accept.

A good offer from another man? When had she had time for another man? Was it before she’d met him?

A bright, fierce blast of rage spiked inside him.

She stopped stuffing her clothes and girly things into her sack long enough to give him a glance so frigid now it ringed his rage in sea-green ice. “Not much to say, huh, Iain?”

Cold and heat, rage and fear, pride and heartsickness combined in him, freezing his tongue.

“Guess not.” Her eyes went opaque, leaving him with nothing. “Good to know.”

Goddammit, he wasn’t going to stand here naked when the woman was leaving him in the dust.

He’d been temporary. Like a lot of her life apparently.

Rage turned to raw, bitter fury.

He yanked on his jeans and punched his arms through a shirt. The only sound she made at his side was the harsh rasp of the bag’s zipper closing.

Forcing himself to turn and face her, he stiffened inside, made his expression impassive. He’d not hold her down. For all his rage at her offer, he couldn’t blame her. Look at what he’d been like last night. What woman would want to contend with that mess of a man for any length of time?

She swung her bag over her shoulder and met his gaze with a smooth, unperturbed one of her own. “I guess after I see my dad, I’ll take myself off to New York City and accept the offer.”

“Absolutely.” He shot the word out of his mouth, forcing it through his clogged throat. “Ye need to do what’s best for ye.”

New York City. Her home base. This man with his
shite
offer must have been in her life far before a drunk ex-soldier with his nightmares and issues stumbled into her life.

Something clouded her eyes, making the green go dull. But then it disappeared, chased away by her usual jaunty smile. “I’ve had a great time, Your Majesty.”

A great time
.

The words rolled around in his head along with all the other times he’d had with the
donas
. There had been great times. There also had been times of profound connection. Or at least he’d thought so. There’d been times when he’d bared his soul as much as his body. There’d been times of laughter and joy so intense he’d thought he’d been in a special kind of heaven with a special little demon all his own. A woman who got him and loved him and wanted him—every piece of him, even the broken ones.

A great time.

Instead of the soulmate he’d thought he’d found, all he’d really been to her was a fling. He’d merely been this kind of weird madman she’d helped a wee bit until he’d given her…

A great time
.

“Aye,” he echoed her, his heart going cold. “A great time.”

And now she was leaving.

She stilled in front of him and he thought she went pale. His hand reached for her, instinct telling him to grab her, tug her into his arms. “Lil—”

“Well, that’s all there is to say, isn’t it?”

His hand dropped before he touched her. “Is it?”

“You’re not going to go back to the whiskey, right?” Ignoring his questions, her delicate brows frowned and her mouth went tight. “You’ve got your plans to keep you occupied, now.”

“Don’t worry about me.” She wasn’t pale or sad. She wasn’t angry or loving. She was only worried about him. The messed up, beastly man. But even if she were leaving him, he wasn’t going to be that man anymore. He straightened into military precision, put his hands behind him like a good soldier. “I’ve got plenty to do on my islands.”

“Right. That’s right.” Her gaze hardened for a moment before she walked past him and to the stairs. “Have a great life, McPherson.”

Iain stood in the silence of his bedroom, the stone walls and ceiling hazy and blurry from his tears.

“
A
re ye sure
, Lil?” Her father stood on the dock by her side, frowning down at Mr. Hume’s boat.

The old sailor glanced at both of them, his eyes worried, but at her determined nod, he flicked on the engine.

“I’m sure.” Throwing her backpack onto one of the boat’s seats, she turned to face her dad’s concerned gaze. “It’s for the best.”

“Are ye sure?” he said again.

He’d asked the question when she’d arrived at his cottage yesterday, stating she wasn’t going back to the castle. He’d asked her this morning when she’d been packing. He’d even asked her as she stuffed her camera bag and backpack into his car for the drive to Fingal.

“I’m sorry I’m leaving again before our month is over.” Guilt swamped her determination to leave, but then she remembered who still lurked in his sanctuary and how damaged her heart already was. Before she started to cry, she leaned in and gave her dad a kiss goodbye. “I need to take this assignment, though. It’s my first from this new agent.”

She’d made the call as she’d walked out of the castle. She’d made the call before she sobbed and ran into his home and begged for His Majesty’s attention. She’d made the call determined to get on with her life.

The agent had been delighted.

“You’ll be going to the Philippines then?” her father grabbed her hand before she jumped into the rumbling boat. “And onto Australia?”

“Yep.” She put on her jaunty grin. “Won’t be back for several months.”

Several months where she’d work all hours of the day and night. Ignore her heart, ignore her tears, ignore her memories and destroyed dreams.

“But what about Iain?” Her dad’s brown eyes were heartsore. “I thought—”

“No, dad.” Pushing her smile wider, she met his gaze. “I had a great time with him, but nothing special.”

“Only a great time?” Edward’s gray brows rose. “Are ye sure?”

Yes. She was sure. She’d given Iain opening after opening in their last conversation and all the man had done was hem and haw and say virtually nothing.

Which had said everything she needed to know.

She’d helped him. She had done that. He’d promised no whiskey, and she believed him. And if she stayed any longer, she’d only fall deeper and deeper into love to the point she’d end up being a stupid pest he didn’t need around him as he rebuilt his life.

“I thought ye were going to stay until he was better,” Mr. Hume barged into the conversation, his brow furrowed in disappointment.

“You both saw him the other night.” She tugged her hand from her father’s. “He’s fine.”

He wasn’t fine, but he was well on his way. The McPherson she had grown to love had enough fight in him he wouldn’t flounder again. She’d known it the moment she’d seen him staring at his computer yesterday morning. No wish for whiskey. No bellowing or angry outbursts. No, the man had been calmly sitting doing his research on how to run his kingdom. He’d find the rest of his way without her help.

A help he clearly no longer needed or really wanted.

“He was a good lad a couple of nights ago,” the old sailor’s frown eased. “He did what needed to be done.”

“He was out of his shell, that’s for sure.” Her dad sighed. “He seemed to be a wee upset, however—”

“Only cold and tired,” she shot through his worry. “He told me he’s got big plans for the islands.”

Big plans. Plans that drew him from his bed and away from her. Plans he had no intention of sharing with her.

Aye. A great time
.

The words he’d said that sliced her last, dying hope from her heart. That’s all she’d been to him. A helper, a person who made him laugh, who gave him some good sex, who drew him out into the world again. Like she supposed she’d done for several other men in her lifetime, when she’d been carefree and glad to walk away unscarred.

Just a great-time girl.

Not important to his life in any real way.

She was going to carry scars this time. For a long time.

Lilly forced herself to focus on the men before her. “He’s doing a lot of research about the islands and what’s the best way forward.”

“Is he now?” Angus looked delighted. “Well, that’s good news.”

“I’m not exactly sure what he has planned,” she continued, knowing truer words had never been spoken, yet wanting to leave them both with hope, “still, I know they’ll be wonderful.”

They would be wonderful. Because Iain McPherson might not be interested in anything long-term with her, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a hero.

He was.

Just not hers.

“He did apologize to me about the golf course the other night.” Her dad smiled at the thought. “That must mean something good.”

“So, you see?” Giving her dad’s shoulders a stiff hug, she swung down into the boat. “My work is done here.”

Her father stared at her. “Are ye sure, Lilly?”

“I’m sure.”

Mr. Hume gave her dad a wave, and pulled the boat from the dock and out into the harbor. Fingal drifted past her gaze as they turned around the point of the island, the docks empty, the storefronts looking battered from the recent storm. The castle rose before them in the mist of the morning. No lights shone down on them. Not even from his sanctuary. She wouldn’t worry, though. He’d likely still be sleeping, or maybe hunched over that computer of his, deciding the fate of his kingdom.

Forcing herself, she grabbed her camera case and opened it. Pulling out her sturdy and only companion, she ducked behind the lens and focused on the rolling waves of the sea.

His sea.

She tried to focus on anything else but him.

Yet, he surrounded her. His castle, his sea, his memory. The way his sky-blue eyes went dark when he came inside her. The way he lifted her so easily in his brawny arms. The way he threw his head back when he laughed.

She loved him. Deeply and truly. She didn’t see this moment of time as some kind of fun frolic, some kind of affair that was meant to burn out.

She would love forever.

But she wasn’t going to cry over this. Cry over the fact Iain McPherson didn’t feel the same. Sob over the knowledge she’d found her place, and the place and person who owned it hadn’t wanted the same thing.

Lilly sucked in a breath and let the tears fall on her cheeks behind the camera.

* * *

“
Y
ou can’t be seriously considering
doing this on your own.” Her stepfather’s voice came from across his wide, burled-wood antique desk. As usual, whenever he talked to her, his voice lowered and slowed, like he was talking to a small, disobedient child.

Lilly had never been a disobedient child. She’d always been the sunshine child, the kid who made sure any tension or unease was banished before she left the room. She’d realized very early on this was the best stance to take.

Yet, he still always took on this voice when he talked to her.

“Well?” Samuel Dimon’s lips tightened, a clear indication his patience was nearing an end.

Which didn’t make much sense if a person didn’t know her stepfather. They’d barely begun this conversation. But her stepfather had never had a lot of patience for her.

For her half sisters, yes.

For her, no.

She sat in the hard-backed chair, facing him. Her mother was silent, sitting on another chair nearer the side of his desk. The home office in the New York City mansion—where she’d lived since she was nine until she left at the age of seventeen—was silent, other than the soft tick-tock of the grandfather clock Samuel had rescued from a French castle several years ago.

“I’m sorry you don’t agree with my plans,” she finally offered.

She didn’t want to fight. She’d never really fought with her stepfather, she’d merely gone her own way. Usually, by the time he’d figured the situation out, she was already far down the road to where she wanted to go. He’d grumble when she came back to say hi to her mom and sisters, and then she’d leave again before anything could actually be discussed.

Simple.

But not this time.

This time she’d been suffering from shock.

So she’d stumbled into her childhood home after two months away, expecting something. Some encouragement or peace. Some acceptance.

What had she been thinking?

Not much, clearly.

“Darling.” Sandra Howe Graham Dimon shifted in her seat, her blonde brows rising. “You have to see where we’re coming from.”

She did. She always had. And most of the time, she was fine with where they were coming from or going because it didn’t include her.

“Are you sure the man won’t want to be involved?” Samuel said.

No. She was pretty sure the McPherson would jump to immediate attention and march into the situation, intent on saving the day.

That was the problem.

“Being single with a small child is hard.” Her mother shook her head, her tight blonde curls not moving a millimeter. “I wouldn’t advise you to take that on, Lilly.”

The unsaid words drifted above them. Samuel had saved Sandra from that awful fate along with her poor, small daughter.

She should be grateful like her mother.

And behave.

Her hands tightened into a fist in her lap. The purple cashmere dress her mother had pushed on her this morning, before they’d all gone to church, felt damp on her skin.

“While I’m not a believer in the career you chose, such as it is.” Samuel leaned back in his chair, his elbows on the arms, his fingers pressed together in a pointed
V
of disapproval. “I’m sure you can see how it would be impossible to care for a baby at the same time you’re gallivanting around the world.”

Gallivanting. He made it sound as if she didn’t have a purpose every time she got on a plane for an assignment. But her purpose had changed, now. Changed dramatically when she’d looked down at the blue plus sign.

Pregnant.

She’d stared into the dinky mirror in her hotel room in Dorrigo, Australia, where she’d come to photograph the Waterfall Way and the people of the Gumbaynggirr Nation, and realized everything had changed.

Everything.

She’d known even before taking the test. She’d known by the way her breasts ached, and by how tired she was at the end of the day. She’d known when the smell of vinegar and garlic had made her stomach turn way before she’d found out the Filipino meal she was about to eat was made of cooked crickets. She’d known.

“There’s still time for an abort—”

“No.” The word rang out in the cool room like a loud bell. She closed her mouth before she started to yell because she didn’t want to fight. Fighting with her stepfather never led to anything worthwhile.

“Well, then.” Her mother coughed, a genteel sound of disapproval. “I think you should give this baby up for adoption like your father is suggesting. It would be for the best.”

Samuel Dimon wasn’t her father. He never had been, and never would be. Her mother liked to pretend, and in the decades since she’d married into this wealth, she’d become very good at it. Still, Lilly hadn’t ever forgotten she didn’t really belong here, or pretended she ever really wanted to be.

“No, Mom.” Her nails cut into her palms, but she knew some things for sure other than her pregnancy and no abortion. “I’m keeping my baby.”

She knew she wanted to be a mom and she knew she wanted Iain’s baby.

Samuel grumbled behind his desk, his black brows descending into a deep frown. “I won’t help you with this. You need to understand that.”

When had he ever helped her in years? As soon as she announced she wasn’t going to Wellesley, Samuel had pulled the plug on any more finances. He had not been happy when she’d received a scholarship to the NY Film Academy and attended there, instead. During her entire college career, he hadn’t offered her a penny.

Which had been fine with Lilly.

Money wasn’t given in this household. It was used to tie knots around her. She’d been a smart kid. She’d figured that out early.

“I understand.” She rose because there wasn’t anything else to say.

“Lilly.” Sandra sighed, the sigh she’d used when her oldest daughter hadn’t wanted to put on her Easter dress. The sigh she’d used when her oldest daughter hadn’t wanted to join her younger sisters in taking tap dancing. The sigh that used to play in Lilly’s head as she fell asleep. “I wish…”

She knew what her mom wished. She always had. Sandra wished her oldest daughter had never been born.

That wasn’t going to happen to her baby.

Walking over, she bent down and kissed her mom’s bronzed cheek. The smell of the pressed powder, designed to make her mother’s skin white, filled her nostrils, so familiar, so sad.

She wouldn’t let her baby think she needed to be anything other than what he or she was.

“I’m going to go north for a bit.” Straightening, she met her stepfather’s disgruntled gaze. “I think I might find something there.”

He snorted. “Something you haven’t found in Japan? Australia? Scotland?”

When she’d gotten over the initial shock, the first place she’d wanted to go to was Scotland. Into brawny arms, into sky-blue gazes. She’d also yearned for her dad’s warm embrace and complete acceptance. But that meant being in the vicinity of Iain. And even though she yearned to lean on his strong shoulders, she couldn’t do that to him.