Laird of the Highlands: International Billionaires IX: The Scots
Page 30
Sighing, he lay next to her. “Ye know I always tell ye the truth, eh?”
Even though she was angry at him, she couldn’t help but nuzzle into the wedge between his shoulder and neck. She didn’t allow herself to kiss him. Still, she did give herself the pleasure of breathing in his scent.
“Don’t I, Ceri?”
It was her time to sigh. At him, at his insistence, at his accuracy. “Yes, you do.”
“Ye said that with a bit of disgust, now didn’t ye?” Swinging his arm around her, he tugged her closer. “At least ye admitted it, though.”
She hid her face from him, nestling in and yet, pulling farther away. From what he was going to say and what he wanted her to confront.
“So here’s the thing.” With a relentlessness that was typical of him, he continued, “Doc noticed it before me, but I’ve caught up.”
Curiosity, unwanted and undeniable, made her rear her head to stare at him. “Noticed what?”
His gaze was the softest and tenderest she’d ever seen. The slate blue held not a hint of hardness, not a trace of chill. “That you’re hiding, a ghràidh.”
The accusation hit her like a slap. But her attention was caught by the Gaelic at the end. Her mam had never used the old language, and Will had rarely spoken his native tongue. He’d never said this particular phrase, yet she could tell by the way the words rolled from his son’s mouth, what the language was. “What did you call me in Gaelic?”
Amusement lit in Lorne’s eyes. “And here I thought you’d be all pissed off at what I just told ye about yourself.”
“We’ll get to that in a minute.” Fisting her hand on his chest, she put her chin on it and pinned him with a pointed look. Something about the phrase he used zinged inside, leaving a trail of hope in its wake. “So what did it mean?”
“Ye could always go and use my computer and look it up.” His mouth edged into a smile.
“You know I can’t do that because you always lock the thing down whenever you leave.”
His smile faded at her tone. “I don’t lock ye out, Ceri. It’s merely a habit.”
The practice had bothered her, truth to tell. “Okay, I believe you.”
The smile returned making his expression go radiant.
She wanted him so much. All of him. His oddness and his logic. His lanky arms and legs. The beauty of his red hair and blue eyes. More than anything, though, she wanted his heart.
His love.
“Tell me what it meant,” she said again.
“Well.” His gaze went straight to calculation as his hand softly rubbed up and down her arm. “How about we make a deal.”
“Lorne.”
He chuckled at her disgusted tone. “Come on. Ye have to trust me, here.”
Realizing he wasn’t going to give in and explain to her what he’d called her, she returned to his accusation. Her pride welled inside, hurt and pricked at the same time. “I don’t hide.”
“Don’t ye?” He eyed her. “Then prove it, lass. Come with me to Edinburgh.”
Chapter 30
The stack of packages he’d bought weeks ago sat in the back of the Range Rover like a pile of plush femininity. Lorne couldn’t believe he’d forgotten about them. Of course, he often forgot about things that weren’t on his current agenda, or didn’t involve his work. But the moment he’d thought about driving Elis to the train station, his shopping trip in Edinburgh had flashed inside his mind like a brilliant piece of code.
There’d been no choice about taking which car. He’d had not a speck of interest in explaining to a teenage boy what he’d bought for his sister.
“What is all that?” Ceri peered through the Range Rover’s window into the backseat, her expression alive with curiosity.
“Never ye mind.” Grabbing her suitcase, he stalked to the trunk. “Get into the front seat.”
“Yes, oh Lord and Master,” she said, with a snide snort punctuating the end of the sentence.
He was flustered. He’d admit it. He’d been so excited when she’d capitulated and agreed to this trip. Adding the pile of female prettiness still lurking in his backseat to his thoughts only ratcheted up his agitation. After getting Elis to the station and coming home to Ceri, the lingerie had flitted in his mind a dozen times. He just hadn’t been able to figure out where and when to give them to her.
Finally, after thinking it over a couple of nights ago, while he lay sleepless by her dozing side, he’d decided on Edinburgh. First, he’d get her there. Then he’d show her the luxury he could offer her. And lastly, he’d give her the presents he’d chosen for her. Presents that were intended to tell her she was beautiful and sexy and wanted.
The slam of the car door cut through his turbulent thoughts. She was pissed off again, but she had gotten into the car.
He’d take that as a win.
Storing the luggage in the boot, he sprinted to the front of the Rover and slid into the car. “We’ll be in Edinburgh in less than three hours.”
She ignored him and instead, angled her head to peer over the seat. “I don’t think those are for you.”
The last thing he wanted to do was have her opening those presents when they were nowhere near a bed. “As I told ye a few minutes ago, don’t pay those any attention.”
“I don’t know the store name.” She kept her gaze pinned on the backseat. “Still, I can tell by the wrapping they’re something for a female.”
“Aye.” He flashed her a warning glance, before turning on the engine. “For ye. But not right now.”
She finally pulled her focus to him. Her goldenrod eyes went soft and her mouth quirked in delighted surprise. “For me?”
Had the woman never received a gift? By the way she looked at him, Lorne doubted she ever had. The thought made his temper burble. “Ye can’t be that astonished. My da and your brother must have given ye birthday gifts and such. And ye did have a husband at one point.”
The memory of that fact sliced into him, turning up the heat on his temper.
“My husband.” Her laugh was arctic. “I suppose you could say he gave me gifts.”
His temper spiked and he drew his focus away from her so he wouldn’t ruin this trip right at the start.
“But they weren’t the kind of gifts I wanted.”
Lorne frowned through the windshield trying to decipher what that meant. Glancing her way again, he caught only her profile. Before he could figure out a question that would cause him to understand, she kept going.
“Your father was a wonderful man, but absentminded about those kinds of things.” Her gaze dropped to her lap where her hands fisted. “And Elis isn’t a big fan of his sister. At least not for the last year or so.”
“Och, lass.” His heart shrank as he took in her pain about her brother. Thoughts of her first husband sifted away, replaced by an urgent need to make this woman happy. In an attempt to quash the instinct to grab her and never let her go, he punched the gas and drove the Rover out of the castle parking lot. “The lad loves ye. Ye can’t doubt that.”
“You made me realize some things.” She lifted her chin in a brave, gallant gesture.
“Did I then?”
“Yes, you did.” From the corner of his eye, he saw her look at him.
A look of more than lust.
A look of affection, he was almost sure. A look of fondness and gratefulness too.
He supposed he should be happy with that look. Yet, he didn’t want Ceri to be fond of him. Or grateful. Or affectionate as if she’d merely picked up a stray cat and liked having it around for a spell.
Fuck no, his heart and gut and soul yelled.
His fingers tightened on the wheel.
“I realized I’ve been clutching on to Elis too close.” A wistful sigh, so unlike his competent lass, whispered across the seat. “I guess I need to let him go on his way.”
“Ceri, I don’t—”
“It’s just hard, you know?” Another sigh drifted between them. “My mam was never much
into mothering. I practically raised him until he was six.”
That hadn’t been in his initial security report, nor Doc’s. Thank goodness he’d called Reid and ordered another report. One that nailed down every inch of her life before she’d come into his. A report that would give him tangible, concrete facts he could grasp and use to win her for himself for the rest of their lives.
For the time being, however, he needed to focus on making this trip the best it could be for her. Once he had the new report, he could move forward with his final plans. Grappling for some reassurance, he landed on himself and his truth. “Ye know…”
“Mmm,” she murmured as she settled into the bucket seat.
He took courage in the fact she was apparently relaxing. “Boys of his age can be rather…”
Stumbling around in his head, he frowned.
“Rather what?” The lilt of her voice told him she was edging toward amused.
His da walked right into his mind. The memories of their battles, the angry words, his sullen withdrawal. His mum’s sudden death from a heart attack had only made things worse. Regret ached inside, and yet, he faced the memories and saw them for what they were. He’d been a raw, frustrated lad who hadn’t understood himself, much less his father. The only thing he had to hold on to at the time was his infernal intelligence and his intransigent determination to prove everyone wrong.
He wasn’t stupid or slow.
He didn’t need to be protected.
He could become someone.
“Lorne?” Her soft voice curled around him.
“Rather confused and lost. Scared they’ll never amount to anything.” Keeping his gaze on the road in front of them, he let all his regrets and pain sift inside so he could give her some comfort.
Her hand slid over his jeans-clad leg to land on his knee. The gesture wasn’t sexual, even though she squeezed him. It was an offer of understanding. He knew this straight to his bones.
“So,” he continued to lay himself out for her, “they tend to be pigheaded and obnoxious. Especially to those they love the most.”
“Lorne.”
Lornnne.
Her trill of his name was far more than a roll of vowels. Inside the sound she gave him so much, almost too much.
Sympathy and connection and thankfulness.
His heart twisted into a knot around the memories of his da and the reality of her acceptance. The twisted knot pushed him farther in, further exposed. “I’m talking from experience when I say Elis might be acting out against ye a time or two—”
“Or three or four.”
Glancing at her, he smiled when he saw her expression. A mellow, resigned sort of expression. “Aye, the lad can be a jerk.”
“But he’s only a guy trying to find his way, is what you’re saying.”
“Correct.” He looked back at the road. “We just have to be patient with him.”
We.
The word hovered above them like a tiny, spangly cloud of meaning. Lorne didn’t know if he should pull the cloud down and shower his plans on her at the moment or ignore it.
Leaning over, Ceri cut off his indecision with a decisive move of her own. She flipped on the radio and a loud blare of rap music blasted from the speakers.
Her eyes went wide. “This is the kind of music you enjoy?”
Deciding to shelve the meanings swirling inside the car for the time being, he cut the music off with one flick of his finger. “Not at all.”
“Then why did you have—”
“This is Doc’s car, not mine.” Turning the Rover onto the highway, he eased into the fast lane. “I tend not to listen to music.”
“Really?” Her dark brows rose.
“But I do enjoy two types of music.” He risked a glance and wiggled his eyebrows at her.
The light of laughter lit in her eyes, dashing away any last mist of wistfulness or anger. “What would those be?”
“Well, ye have a choice.” He put his focus back on the road as his heart rose with hope. “Ye can either sing in that lovely voice of yours.”
“Or?” Amusement filled the one word.
“Or ye can laugh for me.”
She chose the latter.
Ceri had never once been to Edinburgh.
Will and Elis had gone two years ago to the grand festival surrounding New Year’s Eve. Her brother had come back, bright eyed and rosy cheeked, with a string of tales about Hogmanay. The crowds, the rides, the food, the fireworks.
None of it had appealed to her.
But now, as Lorne maneuvered the Range Rover through the narrow streets of the city, she fell in love.
Not with him. That had already happened. The fact she hadn’t admitted to herself, much less him, didn’t mean her heart didn’t know exactly what she felt. It was almost the same emotion welling inside her as she looked up and down the streets of Edinburgh.
She was in love with this city.
“Here we are.” He swerved across the cobblestone street and into the maw of an enclosed lane. The dark stone rose above them in a black arch and the gloom of the incoming night made it seem as if they’d left this century and entered into the past.
Lorne stopped the car and turned off the engine. “Welcome to Old Town.”
She peered out the window and saw a thick oak door tucked into the corner of two ancient stone walls. The Rover barely fit into the small space lying between the door and the arch leading out to the cobbled street. “This is it?”
“Aye.” He didn’t appear fazed by the doubt in her voice. “Ye are going to appreciate this.”
“Am I?” She teased by raising her brow. “Are you sure?”
“I am. Doc thought I should buy something in New Town, but I knew this was the place as soon as I saw it.” Leaning over, surprising her, he placed a kiss on her brow. “Let’s go in.”
His words ricocheted in her head like an out-of-control ping pong ball. He knew she’d appreciate this townhouse? He’d known this was the place as soon as he saw it?
Not knowing what she should say, if anything, she kept her mouth shut. Still, her curiosity bloomed inside. She followed him and the luggage, cautiously picking her way across the damp stones until they arrived at the door.
It was massive and imposing. The oak looked like it had been chopped down sometime during William Wallace’s life and had stood here in sturdy sentry since. Lorne dug into his pocket and pulled out a white card. Slicing it into a small box next to the door, he threw a smile at her.
The contrast between the ancient door and the modern security card made her giggle.
His eyes lit with joy. “Do ye like it?”
“Silly man.” She slapped his arm in mock offense to avoid throwing her arms around him and never letting him go. Sometimes she forgot how his boyishness made her heart melt into a puddle. “I haven’t even seen inside yet.”
“Come on then.” Turning back to the door, he grabbed the golden knob that inexplicably seemed to shine in the dim fog. He waved her in. “Ye first.”
The door opened into an elegant entryway, dominated by the arch of a circling stairway. The walls gleamed, a soft, creamy color highlighting the deep richness of the wood paneling. A square, intricately decorated rug lay on the black-and-white tiled floor. Behind it, she spotted a large living room with pale-blue walls and cream trim. A grand piano stood on the far side, by a floor-to-ceiling window.
Ceri stepped onto the Persian rug in the center of the entry and her heart went still.
In her dreams, long ago, she’d imagined a place of her own. Not the cold, drab flat she’d lived in with her mam and brother. Not the garish monstrosity her husband had brought her to at the age of eighteen. Not even the cozy cottage she’d lived in for the last four years.
In her girlish dreams and imaginings, the home she’d belonged to had been exactly like this.
“What do ye think?” His voice came from behind her, eager and excited.
Ye are going to appreciate this.
A quick frown crossed his face. “Ceri?”
Forcing herself to move, she bustled to the head of the stairs and glanced up. “How many bedrooms?”
“Four.” He drew the word out, as if trying to understand what was going on. “And three bathrooms, if you’d like to know.”
“Of course, I’d like to know.” She tugged off her mac and threw it across the stair’s curved, mahogany handrail. “What woman doesn’t want to know how many bathrooms there are?”
He pulled their luggage into the foyer and slammed the door shut. The sound thudded between them like an errant chord. “Ye don’t like it.”
“What’s there not to like?” Flitting through the graceful arch soaring to the ceiling, she ran her hand along the plush end of a blue, velveteen sofa.
Everywhere her gaze landed gave her more. The leather-bound books lining one wall gave her memories of when she’d dreamed of going to university. The delicate scrolling across the fireplace gave her back the times she’d wondered if she’d ever have children and photos to place lovingly on a mantel. The elegant lines of the wallpaper gave her the wretched feelings she’d had when she’d thought she could never be more than a classless toy.
Drifting over to the piano, she lay shaking fingers on the black and white keys. When she’d been very young and very naïve, she’d asked her mam if she could take lessons. She’d dreamed of playing with the choir, of creating the music she loved not only with her voice but with her whole body.
Don’t be ridiculous, Ceri. We don’t live in a fantasyland where dreams come true.
Her mam’s voice echoed from the past, hitting her as hard with the truth as it had years ago.
Her fingers plunked on the keys, sending a jangling, harsh sound into the room.
“I bought the furniture along with the house,” he said, a tentative note in his voice. “It all seemed to fit.”