by Caro LaFever
He’d read enough, however.
Ceri had given him everything. The castle, the land, the loch, the forest. She’d also given him a headache, a heartache…and a temper.
A migraine mixed with fury was never a good combination for him. Especially when a good bit of hurt simmered below.
Yet, he had to make this work.
Because his life depended on it.
“You tricked me.” Her voice echoed from the door. “You used my brother to trick me.”
He’d turned off the lights in his office in an ineffectual attempt at loosening the tight band of pain encircling his head. The only light came from the slits of the blinds covering the floor-to-ceiling windows. But he had a clear enough view of her to see the tense line of her shoulders under her plain cotton T-shirt.
“Did I?” He forced himself to take in a deep breath and let her accusation go. There were bigger objections to overcome.
“Yes. You did. And it was a rotten thing to do.” The woman who’d become his life turned her back to him and tugged on the door. “Let me out. I need to find Elis.”
Her attempt to escape him was futile. His instructions to Doc and her brother had been explicit.
Get her in his office.
Lock them in.
Don’t disturb them until he’d won.
“Why don’t ye come in and sit so we can talk?” He focused on his voice, keeping the tone calm.
“Why do you have all the lights off?”
The last thing he wanted to admit was any weakness. He needed to show her he was strong. He needed to show her he was worthy of her. “I thought it might be a relaxing environment to talk to each other.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she threw over her shoulder, still facing the door. “I told Mr. Gordon to see you.”
Lorne wanted to lunge across the room, take her in his trembling hands, and shake her. Then, maybe, kiss her. Then, maybe, yell at her.
Bloody hell. He was a mess.
“Your solicitor did visit me.” He was proud when his voice obeyed him and stayed serene. “I got the papers.”
With a violent twist, she yanked around and scowled at him. “Then there’s nothing more to say. You won.”
He would be a loser for the rest of his life if he didn’t win this woman’s heart and hand. The reality of this made his blood burn and his temper roar.
“Did I?” he whispered the words because if he let his control go by an inch, he’d start to howl.
“You did.” She foolishly marched right to his desk within his reach. Leaning over the marbled top, she glared. “Let’s get real. You would have won no matter what I did.”
Lorne closed his eyes against her anger and tried to focus his whacked brain into some kind of working order. “Then why did ye not give up immediately? Why did ye fight?”
A clipped silence fell.
“Because I was a stupid fool,” she finally said. Her words were filled with such deep bitterness it made his hurt turn to dust inside him.
His eyes popped open to stare. “Ye are not stupid, and have never been a fool.”
“No?” She laughed, a caustic, rough sound. “I believe I’ve been a fool for my entire life. And I was absolutely a fool for you.”
A fool for you.
Hope sizzled through him like an electric shortage. He couldn’t stop himself now. Rounding his desk in a frenzied hurry, he grabbed her before she could step away. “Ceri, tell me—”
“Take your hands off me.” Struggling in his arms, she stiff-armed him from coming any nearer. “Let go.”
She was strong, his woman. Strong and tough. Hard in some ways. Cold in others. Yet he knew enough about her past to understand why she’d built her defenses, raised her walls, and battened her hatches at the sign of trouble.
What she didn’t understand was he didn’t want to be her trouble.
He wanted to be her solution.
Using his superior male strength, he pushed her arm away and pulled her so close he could feel her breath surging in and out of her lungs. “There. I have ye.”
“No. You. Don’t.” Her dark brows furrowed in a ferocious frown. “I’m not interested in you anymore.”
His heart clattered in his chest as his hope dashed against her stubborn walls. The pain in his head exploded, making his eyes mist in agony. The temper, the hot, fiery thing he’d struggled with his entire life went wild. “Don’t lie,” he snarled. “Not right now. This is too important. Tell the truth.”
Her white face thrust into his, not intimidated by his anger in the slightest. “Here’s a truth. You might have won the castle with your billions, but you can’t have me in your bed any longer. I’m not for sale.”
“I didn’t win the castle. Ye gave it to me.” He glared through his pain. “And what the fuck do ye mean I’m trying to buy ye for my bed? Nothing could be further from the truth.”
Something he’d said, or the aggression in his voice, appeared to hit her. She sagged in his arms, defeat crossing her face. “It doesn’t matter how you won. Only that you did.”
“But it does.” Loosening his tight grip on her shoulders, he slipped his hands around her waist and laid his head on her dark curls. “Because I don’t understand.”
Her response was a mere sniff into his best silk dress shirt, confusing him even more. He’d dressed up for this most important meeting in his life because he wanted to make sure she understood he came for her with everything he had.
His wealth, his power.
Ceri seemed to like him when he was naked or in jeans, yet he wanted her to understand he had other gifts, too.
He could make sure she never suffered from worry again.
He could offer her and Elis anything they wanted.
He could protect her and her brother.
Maybe she didn’t love him as he loved her. Still, she was a survivor. Using that instinct in his favor, even if it built on the hurt roiling inside him, was something he was willing to do.
“Make me understand, lass.” He ran his hand along her stiff spine. “Let’s start with that.”
“I read your emails,” she stated in a grim voice.
His hand stopped in the middle of her back, his confusion and frustration growing. “Aye?”
Ceri lifted her head to glare at him. “Aye,” she mimicked him in a sarcastic tone.
Racking his brain, he tried to remember his hurried perusal of his emails when he’d arrived back at the cottage. He came up with nothing. “Ye got angry because Elis and I didn’t send ye an email like I promised?”
“Don’t be laughable.” Dropping her head on his chest, hiding herself from his intense focus again, a muffled snort came from her. “And I’m not angry.”
Clearly, she was angry. Obviously so—even for him to detect. The fact was she wasn’t telling him the truth here, when it was so very important. His temper spiked. “If ye aren’t angry,” he growled. “Why did ye run away?”
She tried to move out of his arms, but he clung. If he couldn’t make her understand verbally, he’d do it physically. He had her. He wasn’t letting her go.
“I didn’t run away. I left. There’s a difference.” She sniffed again into his chest.
Was it his imagination or had she snuggled into his arms? Had she moved closer of her own volition? His wretched hope simmered back to life. “Why did ye leave, then?”
She stiffened, making him curse himself. How was he going to understand her, though, if he didn’t ask the hard questions? He pressed on, his breath caught in his throat. “Tell me.”
Tucking her head into his chest like she was trying to escape her words, she blurted, “I saw that report.”
“Report?” He frowned at her curls.
“From your solicitor.”
His brain zeroed in, pushing through the migraine to find the memory. “The report about ye.”
“Correct.”
That was what had angered her? She’d known he’d had her investigated be
fore. Why would one more probe make her furious? So furious she’d left. Left him and left the castle and maybe more important to her than anything, left her dreams behind.
“Ceri.” He tried to nudge her head up, but she determinedly stuck herself into his chest. “Listen to me.”
She humphed.
“I ordered another report when Doc told me about your mum’s death.”
“What?” Her head popped out of her hiding place, her eyes wide. “Why didn’t you merely ask me, you arsehole. I could have told you how she died.”
“Would ye have?” He eyed her speculatively. “Ye aren’t the type to spill all your secrets for my inspection.”
Her face tightened. “You could have asked.”
“I could have,” he confessed. “I’m sorry I didn’t, but time seemed to be slipping by and I wanted to understand your background more thoroughly than just your marriage.”
“What do you mean, time was slipping by?”
“The court case was fast approaching.” Frustration rolled in his words. “I wanted to understand everything about ye.”
“Right. The court case. How could I have forgotten?” A white line of tension appeared around her mouth. “You needed to know about my past so you could use it to win the court case.”
“Use your past?” He stared at her, his head pounding, his hands going slack in surprise.
Using his surprise against him, she pushed on his chest and escaped his clutching hands. “You had them all lined up.”
“Ceri—”
“All of them.” Her hands fisted, her eyes growing hot with anger. “Mr. Sayer. Mrs. Blevin. Mr. Pritchard.”
Who? “Who are these people?”
His blank stare seemed to catch her attention because her eyes narrowed. “The Brekelly villagers your weasel recruited to testify in court against me.”
“What? What weasel?” Horror froze the blood in his veins. “What are ye talking about?”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t read the report your solicitor sent you.”
“I didn’t.” She must mean Reid was the weasel. He couldn’t make much sense out of anything else.
She waved his claim away. “Don’t tell me you didn’t order your weasel and your security to go to my hometown and dig up dirt.”
“The first time, yes.” Truth was the only thing he could offer her right now. “But not the second report. That wasn’t ordered to dig up dirt on ye.”
A snort was all he got for that.
“Listen to me.” Fisting his own hands so he wouldn’t grab her, he took a step back for extra insurance. Instinct told him only words would soothe. “When I first came to Castle Ross, the only thing I wanted to do was drive ye away. I admit that.”
Her arms came around her and her mouth drooped, making his heart hurt. Still, he needed to tell the truth. Even things that damaged his cause.
“But then, lass, I started to know ye.” He kept his gaze level on hers.
“You started to have sex with me.” The words punched out of her, an ugly accusation.
“Naw,” he rebutted. “I got to know ye, quite a bit about ye, before we ever went to bed. And not from the first report, either.”
“What? What could you possibly know about me?”
“Things like ye enjoy singing.” He took a chance and stepped closer.
She threw him a glare and stepped back, almost hitting the wall behind her.
If he’d let his lust and fear rule him, he would have pushed her onto the flat surface, pinning her down. However, his migraine hadn’t completely wiped out the rest of his working brain.
He stilled.
“Ye are good at singing, ye know,” he offered.
“Am I.”
“Aye.” Struggling to remember all the things he’d taken in about her, he reached for another. “Also your eyes. I got to know your eyes.”
A sniff was her only response.
“Your laughs.” Frustration pulsed through him, but he forced his voice to be cool and composed. “Remember how I told ye about your different laughs.”
“None of that means you know me.” It was a stout, solid rejection.
His heart shuddered. Lorne Ross never quit, though. Not until he was sure he was defeated. And something about the way she stood—her body shifting sideways from him, as if ready to bolt and yet her head tilting toward him as if ready to listen some more—gave his hope a lift.
“I also know about your plans, eh?” he said. “Your plans for your lotions and the shop.”
“That’s never going to happen now.”
The pain in her voice pushed him past his caution. He took two steps in and wrapped both arms around her. She stood in his embrace, a cold, stiff shadow of the warm, willing woman he’d become used to.
“Listen to me,” he whispered in her ear.
“What?”
He’d thought to keep this offer in hiding until the end. He’d thought perhaps he’d give it to her along with the ring that lay like a rock inside his suit pocket. But the pain in her voice and defeat in her expression made his pompous plans to bestow this prize on his lady a blindingly stupid idea.
So he gave to her.
Gave her a way to leave him for good, leave him behind.
“Ceri.” He pressed his lips on her dark curls and took her in. The heather smell of her scent. The softness of her hair. The way she fit into his arms. He took her all in, maybe for the last time. “The castle is yours. I deeded it back to ye this morning.”
Chapter 34
Lorne’s words echoed in her mind like an old tale told to her when she still believed in happily ever after. In princesses, and promises, and in people who loved her and wished her well.
Ceri went taut in his arms.
Because wonderful things like this didn’t happen to her. Not in Brekelly. Not in Pictloch. Not in Edinburgh, and certainly not in London. He did this to her over and over. Made her dream. Made her wish. Drew her into a fantasy where he was everything she wanted.
“Stop it.” Yanking out of his embrace, she headed for the door. “Just stop talking.”
“I’m telling ye the truth.”
He sounded bewildered and she bet if she turned to stare at him, he’d have that boyish look of puzzlement on his face. The look that always made her want to wrap him in her arms and brush his fiery hair off his forehead. “Open this door now.”
“Ceri.”
The lights flashed on, flooding the room with harsh light. It startled her enough she whipped around to confront him.
Lorne Ross stood behind his desk. The marble inlay gave the wide surface the appearance of a white lake filled with lacy strands of seaweed. He had his London finery on. Red power tie. Sleek blue suit. Blazing-white shirt.
Both things—the desk and his dress—reminded her he was her enemy. A billionaire intent on having his way. A stranger. Not the man who’d held her through the night and not the man who gave her his boyish grins.
“I want to leave.”
“Not before we end this once and for all.” He said the words in a clipped, hard tone. The one she’d heard when she first met him, but never since.
The thought made her want to weep and she’d wept enough about this man. “It’s already done. You won.”
“Did ye not hear me?” He glared at her before reaching for a large tan envelope lying on the desk and thrusting it her way. “Here.”
Wrapping her arms around her, she thrust her fists into the safety of her armpits. Because she’d reached out before. Reached out with her belief in the goodness of people. Reached out with her hopes of a better life. Reached out again and again only to watch her dreams shatter in front of her. “I want to leave.”
“This is the deed to Castle Ross and the estate. Everything my da left ye, back in your control.”
Ceri’s nails dug into the skin of her palms.
“Don’t ye understand?” Frustration crossed his face, making his red-gold brows furrow. “It’s yours.”
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“Why?” She didn’t understand. Couldn’t. Why would he give up everything he’d come at her for? His heritage. His home.
His brows rose out of the frown into a confused arch. “I thought it would be clear.”
“Clear?” She scowled at him. “Clear as mud.”
A short burst of laughter came from him before he brushed his rawboned hand across his forehead. For the first time, she noticed the tight lines around his eyes.
He had one of his migraines. That’s why he’d turned off the lights.
A reluctant compassion filled her. “Lorne.”
He lifted his head, his gaze latching onto hers.
“It’s your castle. It’s your heritage. It’s really yours and always has been.” She gave him the truth she’d known inside her. The truth she’d shied away from as she’d fallen in love. Or at least, fallen in love with the man she’d had in the cottage in Scotland. Because she couldn’t deal with this London billionaire part of him. The part that wanted to dress her up like a doll and parade her around as a talisman. She’d done that once and she’d never do it again.
Not even to achieve her dreams.
Not even to have her lover.
His frown returned. “I’m giving ye—”
“No. I don’t want it.” And she didn’t. She honestly didn’t. It wasn’t worth the sacrifice.
She knew, watching him, knowing him—he thought if he got her to take the castle, she’d also take him. If he convinced her to take the castle, there were still the estate taxes to contend with, the mortgage. He had his billions and his allure, and he’d try and keep her by his side using those weapons. Ultimately, she’d have to deal with him and his demands for the kind of lady who should be with a rich man.
She couldn’t do that. Wouldn’t.
Wiping his fingers across his face once more, he closed his eyes. “I’m confused.”
“It doesn’t matter.” She tugged on the door handle one more time and sighed when it didn’t give. “Can you unlock this now?”