A Highland Summer: The Billionaire's Nanny (A BWWM Billionaire Contemporary Romance)

by Imani King

  "You're staying, Miss Robinson?" The hope in her voice would have been enough to shatter a much harder heart than my own.

  "Yes, Cameron, I'm staying all summer. You can take me swimming in the loch now, if it gets hot enough."

  "Can I? Can we ride horses to the Treacle-Eater's Tower?"

  I nodded. The Treacle-Eater's Tower was apparently a stone tower a mile or so away from the castle and Cameron seemed particularly fascinated with it, frequently mentioning her desire to take me there and take me up to the very top so we could look out across the estate and see the sea on a clear day.

  Later that afternoon, after a restorative nap, I found myself back at the loch with Cameron, who was busy gathering sticks for a fort we were going to build near the waterfall. Anne had come along and we were lying in the heather watching the child and chatting.

  "My brother isn't always such a hothead, you know. If you could see how Diane treats that child, you'd understand why he's so wound up about it."

  I wasn't sure why Anne was defending Darach to me - I hadn't left and Anne had obviously been told what had happened - she could see I was still there.

  "I do understand," I said slowly, not sure what Anne was getting at, "but how he feels about Diane doesn't make it OK for him lose his temper with his employees."

  "No, you're right, you're right." Anne picked at the heather we were lying on. "I just - it's really hard to explain. We've never had to deal with anyone like Diane and it just seems to be dragging on and on with no end in sight. We're all going slightly mad, I reckon. Did you know Mrs. Clyde slapped her across the face for taking a scone away from Cameron?"

  I looked at Anne to see if she was joking but she wasn't. "Really? Mrs. Clyde slapped her?" I couldn't imagine Mrs. Clyde slapping anyone - she seemed far too dignified to be dealing out slaps.

  Anne chuckled a little, obviously amused at the memory. "Yeah. Diane said something to Cameron about scones making her fat and tried to take it away and Mrs. Clyde just lost it. You haven't met Diane - if you're lucky, you won't."

  The afternoon was perfect. About 75 degrees, sunny and with a light breeze that brought the scent of heather and wildflowers on it. We helped Cameron build her fort and then we helped her knock it down again when she decided it would be useless against invaders and she needed to start again. When we got ready to head back to Castle McLanald for something to eat it suddenly struck me that I felt happy. I didn't even recognize the feeling at first, and then I questioned it. Was I imagining it? What was this sensation of contentment, of not wanting to be anywhere else than right where I was? When I decided to accept it I couldn't help a big grin spreading across my face.

  "Why are you smiling, Miss Robinson?" Cameron asked. She was a very observant kid - I'd already noted her slightly uncanny ability to detect people's moods.

  "Because I feel happy, Cameron. I feel happy for the first time in a very long time."

  Anne turned to smile at me when I said that, sensing the honesty in my words. But it was Cameron who pulled her signature move of slipping her chubby, muddy little hand into mine. She then looked up at me and said two words that just confirmed I'd made the right decision by deciding to stay at Castle McLanald:

  "Me too."

  The passage of the next couple of days didn't do anything to dampen my good spirits. In much the same way that finally feeling normal after a period of sickness turns 'normal' into 'wonderful' the experience of contentment felt even sweeter due to the emotional suffering of the past couple of years. I appreciated it more than I would have before my grandmother's passing and my heart was full of hope that she was still with me in some way, watching over me as I ran around the Scottish moors playing hide and seek with Cameron and sneaking up on rabbits and the odd sheep only to jump out at them yelling "boo!" and collapsing with laughter.

  It was Friday morning when the Laird made his first appearance since our conversation at the train station. He strode into the kitchen where me, Cameron and Mr. Clyde were all filling ourselves with the bacon and eggs Mrs. Clyde had prepared for us and made an announcement:

  "The Treacle-Eater's Tower. Today. Right now. What do you two ladies say to a ramble on the moor and a picnic?"

  Cameron saved me from the embarrassment of my own over-enthusiastic yes and leapt up from the table screaming:

  "Daddy! Yes! The Treacle-Eater's Tower! A picnic! Yes, Daddy!"

  I smiled and nodded when Darach asked me if I would accompany them - I was on-duty, after all, although I would have gone anyway, and I spent the rest of breakfast trying to hide the hum of excitement inside me at the prospect of more time with him. Obviously not very well, because when I went to put my plate into the big old Victorian sink Mrs. Clyde was washing dishes in she gave me a little wink.

  "Aye, you be careful with the Laird, Jenny. He's a charmer."

  "I'll be fine," I said, projecting what I hoped was an unruffled tone to the housekeeper, "I'm just there to watch Cameron."

  Chapter 7

  I waited outside the castle in the gardens until Cameron appeared on the back of a small grey pony with a black riding hat on her head and her father beside her, holding the pony's reins. He gave me a nod and a smile as Cameron excitedly told me the pony's name (Marshmallow) and the various things he liked to eat (carrots, apples and, as Cameron adorably called them, 'sugar lumps').

  It was a warm day and there was a faint haze in the air that gave the rolling hills of the estate a gauzy, softened look. Darach was so sexy - so masculine and tall standing next to his daughter's little pony in a pair of jeans and a lightweight gray sweater that skimmed over every muscle. The sense of ease I felt walking along beside them almost embarrassed me.

  You're his employee. Remember that. Don't make a fool of yourself.

  "So Jennifer. What do you think of Scotland, then? You've had a little time here now, is it very boring to a girl from the big city?"

  Darach had this habit of looking directly at someone when he was speaking to them. Whenever he did it to me I had to make a conscious effort not to shyly avert my eyes like some besotted schoolgirl.

  "Boring? No - not at all. I love it but I still, I don't know, it still doesn't feel totally real to me."

  "What do you mean it doesn't feel real?"

  If it had been anyone else asking me those questions I would have been able to answer them easily, but it wasn't anyone else. It was Darach. The need to impress him somehow, to be interesting and smart and all of those things you want to be around certain men, was flustering me in a way I hadn't experienced for a long time.

  "Uh, I just mean...there's nothing like this in America. I keep thinking I've traveled back in time," I looked out at the views of the Highlands stretching out around us, "I mean, look at it, it looks like the set of a romance movie. I keep expecting to see men in kilts fighting the redcoats."

  Ugh. A 'romance movie'. Why did I say that? I looked away from Darach so he wouldn't be able to see the look on my face as I rolled my eyes at my own comment.

  "Aye, men in kilts. Is that something you'd like then, Jennifer?" Darach was grinning at me, blue eyes sparkling like jewels in the sunlight and clearly enjoying himself.

  It took over an hour to make it to the Treacle-Eater's Tower and it was an odd but lovely experience chatting and laughing with Darach and his daughter as if we'd all known each other for far longer than we actually had. I knew I was his employee. He knew I was his employee. Cameron knew I was her nanny. So why couldn't I stop the cozy feelings of familiarity bubbling up inside me? Why did it feel like reaching out and intertwining my fingers with Darach's would be the most natural thing in the world? My memories of that afternoon have a certain idyllic quality, as if it happened in a dream or a book my grandmother read to me as a child. It was one of those perfect days, and there hadn't been many of those for me recently.

  Cameron carefully tied her pony to a small tree at the base of the tower and then all three of us made our way up the narrow stairs that wound their w
ay to the very top. It hadn't looked that tall from a distance but once we emerged at the top the wind was incredibly strong, whipping my hair violently around my face. It was a small tower, only about fourteen or fifteen feet in diameter. Darach told me it had been built in the 1700s as a way for the McLanalds of the time to keep a lookout for the English, which blew my mind a little.

  "You North Americans are so funny. I'm convinced you spend every moment in Europe marveling at how old everything is. We do exactly the same thing when we go there, except we're marveling at how new everything is."

  He was right. It wasn't that I didn't realize how old things were in Europe, or how far back tangible history stretched, but to be standing in a tower that had been built to keep watch for redcoats - not reading about it or seeing it portrayed on screen but actually standing on the very same stones that Darach and Cameron's ancestors had stood on, looking out at the same hills they had looked out at - it was an almost trippy sensation.

  Cameron ran around the turret we stood on, pointing out the sea in the distance as well as various landmarks and telling me their significance. When we went back down again she roped Darach and I into a game of hide-and-seek that mainly consisted of picking a random spot in the heather, lying down in it and hoping the person seeking happened not to step on you. I thought about Darach's question - did I find the open, empty spaces of Scotland boring compared to the big city? The truth was that lying in the heather and looking up at the pale blue Scottish sky while a giggling four year old tried to find me was more fun than any nightclub or trendy restaurant I'd been to. I could feel the whispered beginnings of attachment stirring inside me that afternoon, before I even recognized them for what they were.

  We ate smoked salmon sandwiches, cut into neat triangles by Mrs. Clyde, and passed around a thermos of hot tea for lunch. Cameron then led her little pony down to a small stream to let him have a drink.

  "She's so good with the pony." I said, impressed that such a small child could have such confidence with an animal so much bigger than her. When I looked over at Darach, lying propped up on his elbows beside me, he chuckled.

  "I was just going to say the same thing."

  We kept our eyes on Cameron and her pony but I could just feel Darach's contentment, mirroring my own.

  "You know she hasn't ever done that before - she wants to impress you," he said, absentmindedly picking a small yellow flower and twirling it between his fingers.

  "Really?" I asked, somewhat surprised.

  "Aye - can't you see how fond of you she is? She's desperate to win your approval."

  When I thought about it I realized that I wasn't, in fact, surprised by Cameron's need for my approval. She had her father's, of that there was no doubt, but her need for a nurturing female figure was more than obvious. It suddenly made me desperately sad. I turned to look at Darach - his expression said he was thinking exactly the same things I was.

  "Sometimes I wonder if asking Diane to leave was a mistake. At least if she was still here I could keep an eye on her."

  Wary of saying the wrong thing to my employer and of sticking my nose where it didn't belong, I said nothing and Cameron broke the silence by racing back over to us and noticing the flower in the Laird's hand.

  "Daddy! Tell me if I like butter!"

  She sat down beside her father and stuck her chin out and I watched as he held the yellow flower under her chin.

  "Aye, Cameron, it seems as if you like butter very much."

  "Now check Miss Robinson! Check if Miss Robinson likes butter!"

  Darach leaned towards me and, seeing that I wasn't sure what this game was about, explained:

  "You hold a yellow flower under your chin. If it reflects yellow, it means you like butter."

  I tilted my chin up and smiled at Cameron, who was watching the proceedings with great attention and let Darach hold the flower up to me.

  "Yes! You like butter too, Miss Robinson!"

  I was glad of her presence. If she hadn't been there, I may well have failed at keeping my composure as Darach held the flower up to my face, trailing the cool, soft petals across my chin. He was so close to me I could feel his breath on my cheek.

  "Daddy! Do YOU like butter?"

  Cameron took the flower gently out of her father's hand and held it up to his chin, giving me a moment to catch my breath. It felt so good being that close to Darach. It would have been so easy to lean into his hand, to feel his fingertips tracing their way down my neck...

  "Daddy! You don't like butter!" Cameron's voice was full of mock-disapproval.

  "It's not true, child, Daddy loves butter, he just forgot to shave this morning."

  I didn't allow myself a glance - even a very quick one - at Darach's strong, square chin, covered as it was with about a day's worth of sandy beard growth and looking dangerously kissable.

  Satisfied with her survey of our individual tastes for butter, Cameron lay down on her back between me and Darach and, within minutes, was fast asleep. It didn't take long for the warm afternoon and the sunlight filtering through the haze to get to me, either, and I nodded off a few minutes later.

  When I woke up I had no idea what time it was - the sun was still high in the sky so it can't have been too much later - Cameron was still curled against me, breathing slowly and evenly in her sleep. Her father, though, was nowhere in sight. I stayed where I was and watched the little gray pony tearing up clumps of grass and chewing it contentedly until the sound of footsteps made me look up. It was Darach, walking back towards us with something in his hand.

  "What are those?" I whispered, not wanting to wake Cameron, as I saw that Darach was carrying a handful of flowers, none of which I recognized.

  "Wildflowers," he replied, also whispering and kneeling down beside me as if to show them to me. At the last second, just before I expected him to start telling me what they were, I saw something change in his expression. He put the flowers down beside me and looked me right in the eye. That time, I couldn't turn away. There is no turning away from Darach McLanald when he's looking at me the way he did that afternoon beside the Treacle-Eater's Tower. So instead of looking away I met his intent gaze as he bent down over me and opened his lips against mine.

  Rationality doesn't come into it when I'm kissed like that. Darach wasn't tentative, but he wasn't pushy either. He kissed me slowly and deeply, so that all it took was a few seconds until the only thing I could feel was the pliancy in my own body and the only thing I could taste was his hunger.

  "Oh my God..." I murmured, breathless, as he kissed my chin and then down my neck until my body was on fire with needing his hands on me. He pulled me towards him and I was just reaching up to his shoulders, to pull him down on top of me when Cameron stirred. We jumped apart as if we'd both simultaneously realized we'd been touching hot stoves instead of each other.

  "Daddy? Miss Robinson?" Cameron's voice was thick with sleep and she was rubbing her eyes - she hadn't even turned towards us yet and I breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn't seen a thing.

  "We're here, Cameron, we're right here," I said, brushing her hair - which was full of bits of heather and grass - off her face.

  She looked right at me.

  "Miss Robinson are you alright?"

  The she looked at her father.

  "Daddy? Your faces look funny."

  Darach chuckled at his daughter's questions and picked up the flowers as I hid my embarrassed smiles in my hands. "We're fine, wee girl. Look what Daddy found for you. Can you tell me what the names of the flowers are?"

  We made our way back to the castle slowly - even Cameron commented on how slowly we were walking. Darach told her it was because the pony Marshmallow was tired but I knew better - Darach and I were both trying to prolong the spell of the afternoon. I felt like Cinderella anticipating the stroke of the clock at midnight. The Laird walked between his daughter and I, and every time he touched me - something he hadn't done before that day - it sent a hot little shiver of lust jolting thro
ugh my body.

  "Are you alright?" He asked me at one point, placing his hand on the small of my back and just allowing his fingertips to graze the bare skin under my shirt.

  If Cameron hadn't been there, sitting on her pony and offering up a running commentary on everything she saw, I think we wouldn't have had any choice but to wrap ourselves around each other and make love right there in the heather. But she was there and it was probably a good thing. I wasn't a complete naif but Laird McLanald wasn't anything like any of the men - boys, really - I had ever developed feelings for before. Even as his big hands tormented me with their too-short caresses the little voice in the back of my head was warning me to be careful. You don't know him. You've seen his temper. This is a complicated situation and you have no experience with anything like it.

  Mr. Clyde greeted us when we finally got back to Castle McLanald and led Marshmallow the pony back to his stable. Mrs. Clyde was waiting inside, stepping out of the kitchen and bringing with her the smell of something delicious for dinner.

  "Och, we thought you'd all gotten lost!" she exclaimed, eying the three of us with what felt like particular concentration. I couldn't quite meet her gaze and took the opportunity to tell everyone I was going to wash up for dinner. I could feel eyes on my back as I ducked under the stone archway to the staircase that led to my room. Cameron's eyes, Mrs. Clyde's eyes and, most of all, Darach's eyes.

  When I fell asleep that night it was with the kind of tiredness that comes only from spending hours outdoors. I recognized it vaguely from the summer days of my childhood - the deliciousness of snuggling into a soft bed with the warmth of the sun still sinking into your skin. Of course there was also the warmth caused not by the sun but by the look on Darach's face when he'd leaned down over me by the Treacle-Eater's Tower, not to mention the hot, needy kiss we'd shared before Cameron woke up. Alone in bed, I blushed a little at the memory of my soaking panties, which I'd only noticed when I took them off for my pre-dinner shower. No man had ever had that effect on me before. It frightened me, but it also just stoked the fire Darach had caused in my belly even higher. He did that with a kiss. A single kiss and a few little touches. What could he do to me if it went farther than that?