The Rented Bride (Highland Billionaires Book 1)

by KyAnn Waters

  Cassie’s frown turned fierce.

  “Darling.”

  Her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.

  In for a pound. In for a penny. He pulled her close, hugging her flush against his side. She stiffened.

  “James is clearly ecstatic,” Celina said. “When is the big day?”

  Trent thought of his grandfather upstairs. He didn’t have much time. Every day his condition worsened.

  “Soon,” was all he could reply.

  “Darling,” Cassie said in a slightly mocking tone. “Can we have a moment alone?” She grasped his hand.

  “Of course. We’ll see you later, Celina.”

  Cassie slipped through the crowd toward the kitchen, but Trent directed her toward the hallway to the left of the hearth. She looked up at him in question.

  “There’s a private parlor down the hallway near the door,” he said.

  He would rather take her upstairs away from the guests and avoid the room where he’d broken up with Lindsey, but he had serious doubts about how far Cassie would follow him before blowing up. Thankfully, she allowed him to take the lead. The hollow click of her heels against the marble tile as he led her to the parlor began to match the cadence of his hammering heart. They reached the hallway in time to see Tomas slipping his wife’s mink onto her shoulders. Thomas’ eyes flicked to Cassie, then to Trent. He whispered something to his wife, then took three steps toward the parlor door.

  “Trent, we’re taking off.” He extended his hand and Trent shook it. “Regarding our earlier discussion, if you need anything, just let me know.”

  “That situation has been resolved,” Trent replied.

  Tomas nodded. “Call me.” He smiled at Cassie. “And congratulations, Ms. Adams.”

  “Thank you,” she said, and squeezed Trent’s hand harder.

  Tomas returned to his wife as Trent opened the parlor door. Cassie jerked her hand from his and stormed inside the room. Trent followed, closed the door, and leaned against it.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as she took a breath to speak. He knew what was coming. He’d be angry as hell if someone he hadn’t agreed to marry publicly announced his engagement.

  ***

  Cassie spun around. “Sorry doesn’t begin to cover what’s happened.” Her mind whirled with questions. “First you fire me and now you tell everyone we’re getting married?”

  She was too pissed to let the sorrow in his eyes—or the way his muscles bunched beneath the starched white shirt as he slipped off his suit coat—distract her.

  He glanced to his watch. “Is it really only twelve thirty?”

  “Yes. It’s late, the party is over, and I’m going home.” Back to Miami where the crazies didn’t dress in designer tuxes and sport billion-dollar bank accounts.

  “Please, sit down.” He indicated the couch, then strode to the sideboard, reached for a glass and decanter, and poured two fingers of amber liquid. “Something to drink?”

  She shook her head, then perched on the edge of the sofa and folded her hands in her lap. Her gaze caught on the ring. Cassie swallowed. She’d forgotten the damned ring. She slipped it off. “Why did you let your grandfather tell everyone we are engaged, Mr. Weston?”

  He lifted the glass to his lips and swallowed. The slide of his Adam’s apple drew her gaze.

  He set the glass on the sideboard. “I won’t bore you with the details.”

  “Bore me.”

  “I’m in need of a wife.”

  “Get a girlfriend, propose to her.” Cassie extended the ring toward him, but he didn’t approach to take it.

  “I had a girlfriend, but marriage to her is no longer an option.” He took a deep breath. “Ms. Adams, could I interest you in a temporary position?”

  “Work for you?” Cassie allowed her hand to drop into her lap.

  He nodded. “As you can see, my grandfather’s health isn’t good. I would do anything to bring joy to his final days.”

  “You want me to plan another party?”

  He chuckled, but the sound didn’t ring with light-heartedness. “No, he’s had enough excitement. He needs to relax, to know that his legacy is safe.”

  “I’m not a nurse.”

  “He has a nurse. He needs an heir, a great grandson.”

  Cassie shot to her feet. “Whatever you’re thinking, forget it.”

  He raised both hands. “You misunderstand. One day I’ll have a wife and children.” He crossed the room and halted in front of her. “I have a different proposal. I’d like you to marry me for the limited time my grandfather has left. I’m prepared to compensate you generously for your time.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll pay you ten thousand dollars,” he said.

  “Ten thousand dollars?” Cassie blurted. Ten thousand dollars. Her student loan—she cut off the thought. This was nuts. “Listen, Mr. Weston, ten thousand dollars is a lot of money, but would that be for a day, a week, a month? Please don’t misunderstand. I’m not wishing your grandfather an untimely death. But I don’t think you’ve thought this through. What if he lives another month, a year, two or even three years?”

  He flashed a sardonic smile. “Ms. Adams, I didn’t get where I am by not thinking things through. If I had the slightest hope that my grandfather would be here another three years—” He broke off and raked a hand through his hair. “I’ll pay you ten thousand dollars every week you’re my wife.”

  Thoughts whirled. Even one month would pay off her student loans. That would put her five years ahead of schedule. Two months would— What was she thinking? She wasn’t going to pay off her student loan at the expense of another human being’s life.

  Cassie shook her head. She could always make money. She could only get married the first time once, however, and this man wasn’t her prince charming. “I’ll pass. It’s been—” she couldn’t say a pleasure because the night had been a nightmare. “—interesting making your acquaintance.”

  “What would it take?” he demanded.

  “I can’t be bought.”

  “I just want to rent you.”

  She laughed. “I’m not for rent.”

  A light tap sounded at the door.

  “Come in,” he said.

  The door opened and Doris stuck her head inside. “It’s James. Annie says to come right away.”

  He started forward. “I’ll be right back, Ms. Adams. Please wait.”

  “Um, he’s not asking to see you,” Doris said. “He’s asking for Ms. Adams.”

  Cassie started. “Me?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  God help her.

  Trent faced her and looked meaningfully at the hand that held the ring. Damn him, he knew she couldn’t refuse. Cassie started forward and slipped the ring on when she fell in behind Doris as they left. Cassie followed her through the labyrinth of hallways then stairs with Trent close behind. Why was she rushing to James’ side? He wasn’t her grandfather, and the sooner she ended this charade the sooner she could get back to Miami, back to her normal, uncomplicated, debt-filled life.

  The door stood ajar. Doris pushed it open and Cassie hurried inside.

  She slowed as she approached the bed. Dark circles ringed James’ eyes and his lips and cheeks had lost their color. He blended in with the pale linen pillowcase.

  “Cassie, my sweet girl. Did you tell my grandson of our plans?”

  Plans? What was he talking about? Go with it, girl, she told herself.

  Cassie smiled as she halted. “I haven’t had the chance. Trent has been busy making plans of his own.”

  Trent approached and rested his hand on her shoulder. “Tell me about these plans.”

  “Scotland is beautiful this time of year,” James said. “The perfect place for a honeymoon.”

  Her heart lurched. She hadn’t given a second thought to his suggestion that she and Trent honeymoon in Scotland.

  “Scotland is cold and windy this time of year,” Trent said gently.

  The old
man’s eyes twinkled. “Exactly. Perfect for staying in and—”

  “Granddad,” Trent admonished. “Cassie and I are too busy for a honeymoon.”

  James patted Cassie’s hand. “I suppose I’ll have to be content with the wedding, then.”

  “Perhaps you should rest,” she said. “The wedding can wait until you’re feeling better.”

  “Promise?” His eyes slid closed for a moment. When he opened them, his gaze met hers. There was such sadness, yet something more.

  Cassie didn’t have the heart to say anything except, “I promise.”

  Trent gently squeezed her shoulder. “Get some rest, Grandfather.”

  He nodded. “In the morning, will you have breakfast with me, Cassie?”

  She smiled and nodded. Since her flight didn’t leave until late afternoon, she could spend one last night in Brettonwood.

  She turned and Trent’s hand heated her flesh where it rested on her lower back as he escorted her from the room. In the hall, he pulled the door shut, then cupped her elbow and hurried her to the steps, where he stopped.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “I’m not going to marry you.”

  He chuckled. “You can’t say no to him any more than I can.”

  She glanced down the hall at the door. Trent was right. She simply hadn’t been able to break his heart. He looked so frail. How long could he last?

  Cassie swallowed. “Even if I did agree, I’m sorry, but you have to know that there’s a chance he won’t be here long enough to see us married. A wedding takes weeks to plan.”

  “Anyone that means anything to me or my grandfather was here tonight. We can have a small service tomorrow.”

  “You call three hundred people a small service?” she asked.

  There was that damn smile again. “A dozen close friends. It has to be believable. Granddad is too wily to be easily fooled.”

  She shook her head. “We have no license, and I have no idea what exactly you expect from a…rented wife.”

  He grasped her arm and walked several paces before saying, “Nothing more than keeping up appearances. However, I would expect a level of familiarity.”

  Cassie halted. “How familiar?” Oh hello, why was she actually negotiating with him? “No.” She shook her head. “This is ridiculous.

  “This is strictly business,” he said. “You’ll make some money and I’ll give the only family I have left a little happiness before he dies.”

  “It’s crazy,” she said.

  “I’m begging you, Cassie. I just can’t tell him tomorrow morning that we’re not getting married.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “That’s blackmail, Mr. Weston.”

  He nodded. “It is. I admit that I’m not above paying the devil, if I have to.”

  “The devil might be cheaper,” she muttered.

  “Does that mean you’ll do it?” he asked.

  The hope in his voice, the pleading in his eyes, was almost as hard to say no to as was his grandfather. It was crazy. More than crazy. Her family. She didn’t even want to think about what would happen if they got wind of her ‘marriage.’ But ten thousand dollars a week? Ten. Thousand. Dollars. A. Week. Strictly business. A way for her to get out of debt. She could give Maryanne some of the money she owed as a partner buy-in. And, just as important, she would give James some genuine happiness in his final days. That was no small miracle.

  Cassie nodded. “Okay, but in addition to the marriage license, I’ll expect a contract.”

  “I’ll have my attorney draft the proposal tonight.”

  She couldn’t believe it. The first marriage proposal she’d ever received was a business deal. It was certainly memorable.

  Trent pulled her into a hug.

  Her body molded flush against his and Cassie started at the press of her breasts against his chest. “Hey.” She pushed away. “On paper only.”

  He stepped back. “And in appearance. Our affection must appear believable.”

  “How do you propose we do that?” She hoped like hell the heat in her cheeks wasn’t causing a blush. “Maybe we should define just how much affection will be required.”

  He stepped toward her and she retreated until her back bumped the wall. His breath, tinted with a hint of scotch, warmed her face. “Something along these lines, I would imagine,” he said.

  Her heart began to pound.

  “You’re a beautiful woman, Cassie, but I’m interested in nothing more than giving my grandfather peace as he reaches the end of his life. However, I want him to believe we’re in love. You will have to endure my touch.”

  His chest nearly brushed her breasts. Her mouth suddenly dry, she swallowed.

  “You’ll have to kiss me.”

  “Um, yes,” she said softly. “Kissing…” She licked her upper lip, then meshed it against her lower. “How much kissing is necessary?” He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. Stunned, she wasn’t sure how to respond, but evidently her mouth did. She breathed him in as he deepened the kiss```. Oh my god, he was going to be dangerous. Then he broke the kiss. “That was unnecessary,” she said.

  “I decide what is necessary.”

  Staring into his eyes, her brain fried from the kiss, she nodded.

  “Good,” he said. “For this event, I’ll handle the arrangements.”

  Cassie nodded. “Okay. But keep it simple. I’m not very good at lying.”

  Chapter Eight

  Morning sun streamed through the window. Cassie blinked in confusion at unfamiliar surroundings, then remembered she was still in Colorado. A dull throb pounded in her temples. How had she ended up in this mess? Sitting, she slid her legs over the side of the bed and rubbed her eyes. She was getting married today. Her father should be walking her down the aisle, her mother tearful, her two sisters serving as bridesmaids and her four brothers, groomsmen. Most important, she should love the groom. Instead she was entering a business arrangement. She marked the sign of the cross, forehead to chest, shoulder to shoulder. Her family would be horrified.

  Cassie slipped from the bed and crossed to the sixteenth century armoire where her clothes hung. She grabbed the long, bright, multi-colored LYCRA skirt and black sweater she’d planned to wear on the plane home. Not exactly a wedding dress, but this wasn’t exactly the wedding she’d planned.

  She entered her room’s private bathroom, turned on the shower, then stripped and stepped beneath hot needles of water. Once she’d washed away any reservations, Cassie pulled her nerves together, dressed, and drew her hair back into a ponytail. She stared at herself in the mirror behind the marble sink.

  Get married, get annulled, and get out of debt. Simple.

  She’d lost her mind.

  Cassie folded her dirty clothes. If she had to remain at Brettonwood, she’d need to use the laundry. It was critical that she return to Miami by Wednesday to prepare for Friday’s Bello event. Should she have discussed her work schedule with Trent? Surely he understood she had to be in Miami part of the time for work? She released a breath. He’d promised to have the contract ready for her signature first thing this morning. Wearing simple black flats, she left the room, softly closing the door behind her. Persian carpet padded her footsteps as she made her way down the hall to the staircase.

  On the main floor, Cassie heard James’ voice and turned toward the parlor.

  “I’ve been waiting for you.” He approached the door when she entered, a little shaky in his steps. Annie hovered nearby. “You promised to have breakfast with me.”

  She smiled. “Just coffee, please.”

  He offered his arm and she wrapped her fingers around the crook of his elbow. “How are you feeling this morning?”

  “Better. Now that I’m with you.” He patted her hand. “It’s Sunday and Ace always makes blood pudding and tattie scones. Reminds me of home.”

  He led her to the kitchen.

  “I’m afraid I’m not sure what either of those are,” she said.

  “Then you�
�re in for a treat. Blood pudding is a sausage made of pig’s blood, fat, oats, barley, and spices.”

  Her stomach did a little tumble.

  “Morning Ace,” James said.

  The aroma of breakfast cooking smelled good, but she wasn’t about to eat anything made of pig’s blood.

  Ace turned the sausages that sizzled in a pan. “Morning James. Ms. Adams. If you want to sit in the atrium, I’ll serve breakfast.”

  James led her to the atrium, a medium-sized room surrounded by windows that overlooked the mountains. In the morning light, the groomed trails of a nearby ski resort carved their pattern into the white and rocky mountain face. Burnt orange and gold streaked across the morning sky.

  “What a gorgeous sunrise,” Cassie said.

  “Orange and gold,” James said. “My favorite of all sunrises.”

  “I can’t blame you,” she said.

  The left side of the room boasted a small seating area. A glass table and chairs occupied the right. A ten-foot long, antique buffet stretched along the wall. They crossed to the table.

  “How long have you been in the States?” She helped James to a seat and sat across from him.

  He sighed. “Over fifty years. It’s just me and the lad since I lost my son and daughter-in-law, Trent’s mum and dad.”

  “How old was Trent?”

  “Oh,” he furrowed his brows, remembering back. “Just a wee lad. Four years old.”

  She thought of her family and how lost she’d be without them. Mom, Dad, four brothers, two sisters, aunts, uncles and—don’t let her mother hear these thoughts—an ungodly number of cousins. In fact, it was no secret that she wasn’t living up to her share of the family dynasty.

  “Damn shame.” Moisture glistened in James’ eyes. “Hard to imagine with Trent being a man, but he looks so much like his mother. Especially her eyes.” He smiled, face alight with mischief. “And as I’m sure you’ve seen, his determination. That comes from the Weston men.”

  One might also call it stubborn and arrogant. In the last twenty-four hours, he’d mocked and deceived her, even fired her. To top it all off, he would soon marry her. Maybe he was just crazy. Like her.

  Ace entered, carrying a tray with two plates filled with blood pudding sausages, sautéed mushrooms, and tattie scones, and another platter bearing grilled eggplant, peppers and tomatoes. Another staff member followed and set a carafe of coffee and a sterling silver creamer on the table along with china coffee cups.