Lion of Caledonia: International Billionaires VII: The Scots (13 page)

“
I
’m going
to get a computer too?” Robbie danced a childish jig, circling the freshly installed desk in his bedroom. His father had elected to buy a standing desk, one he could pace back and forth in front of. His son had wanted an old-fashioned roll one, instead.

“But Da,” he’d exclaimed as the three of them had huddled around Jen’s laptop, picking furniture. “I need all sorts of places to put stuff.”

His father hadn’t been able to mount an argument to that. Much of Robbie’s collections had been safely transferred to a row of new cupboards lining one wall of the room, yet there was still the need for a cubbyhole here and there.

“Da?” He stopped mid-lurch, throwing a guarded glance at his father. “I am, aren’t I?”

“Yes.” Cam stood by the open window, leaning out into the fresh spring air. The ugly, dark curtains had been replaced with sets of shiny blue blinds matching the new quilt filled with sailboats on the boy’s bed. “Ye and I both are getting computers.”

“Welcome to the twenty-first century.” Jen’s tone was wry.

“Now, don’t be rubbing it in.” He turned and wagged a finger her way. “Tre does enough of that on his own.”

“Once we get the computers and the new TV, we’ll be ready for the party.” The boy jumped to the center of his bed, his face alight with glee. “I can’t wait.”

Jen had been yanked by both man and boy through the entire mansion as the furniture deliveries had arrived. Should the new sofas be in front of the fireplaces, or near the restored piano? Should the new billiards table be put in the great hall, or the drawing room? And a man couldn’t be in charge of organizing the new kitchen.

She’d let Mrs. Rivers take over there.

“We need a theme.” Cam leaned out farther, as if trying to see past the side of the house to the now-impressive garden leading down to his loch.

“A theme?” Jen said.

“What’s a theme?” Robbie pounced.

His father turned and sat on the window ledge, confident he wouldn’t shift too far out and fall to the ground below. Jen made a mental note to check into installing guardrails. She could easily imagine the boy imitating his father, with disastrous results.

“Our party needs a storyline,” the storyteller mused. “Something to pull all of it together.”

“We could be kelpies.”

His father chuckled at his son’s suggestion. “Naw. I’m not going to be asking Jenny to wear a horse’s head.”

The child giggled as he jumped off the bed and skipped over to stand by the window, too.

“I’m thinking May Day.” Cam’s expression lit with imagination. “Bonfire on Friday night and a wee dance around the pole on Saturday. The dates fit.”

“That sounds more like a child’s theme than an adult’s,” she said.

“We’re all children at heart, aren’t we?” He wouldn’t be dissuaded, she could see it in the set of his jaw and the flame in his eyes. “I know my friends and they’ll like it.”

“Can I have some friends come too?” Robbie piped in.

His father looked down, a flash of remorse crossing his face. “I’ve not been good in finding ye some friends, have I?”

“No. Ye haven’t.” The blunt accusation wasn’t delivered with anger, just as a fact. “I bet ye can find me some now, though.”

The belief in his father shone through the accusation, and the taut tension in Cam’s broad shoulders eased. “You’d bet right. I’ll go to the village and invite everyone there.”

“Now wait.” She held up a hand, annoyance slipping through her joy at how far these two had come with each other. “I didn’t plan for more than twelve guests.”

“Plans can change, can’t they?” The irritating man gave her a wink and a winning smile. A smile she’d bet he used from infancy to get his way. “And we’ll not be having them sleep here. Only feeding them.”

“I have only five days before the party starts.” She dropped her hands in resignation, because she could tell by his manner he wasn’t going to change his mind. “How many more?”

“No idea.” He eased off the windowsill and brushed his hand across his son’s hair. Turning around, he closed the window. “Now, Rob. You’ll not be opening these without me or Jenny here. Do ye understand?”

“Sure.” The boy gave him a jaunty grin.

“Naw. I can see the plans in your eyes.” He kneeled in front of Robbie. “I’ll have your word on that, son. A man’s word.”

The boy studied his father’s hand sticking out in front of him. His expression went solemn as he snuck his own into the larger one. “Okay. I give ye my word.”

“Good.” Straightening, Cam shot her a knowing glance. “I could see it all over your face, Jenny.”

“What?”

“Ye were worrying yourself about the window. But I’ve got Rob’s word, and we’ll do something more permanent after the party.”

We’ll do something.

We’ll.

A profound grief flooded inside, and the familiar clutch rose in her throat. During the last few days, she’d put aside her mission and just enjoyed. Enjoyed seeing the happiness in Robbie’s eyes. Enjoyed laughing with Cam as they moved a sofa closer to a fireplace. Enjoyed being part of a family and a home.

Last night, though, Cousin Edward had called again. The reminder had yanked her away from her happiness and reminded her.

She wasn’t a part of this family.

She had a family of her own.

She knew right where the ring was.

Cousin Edward had grudgingly agreed a house party was the perfect time to leave undetected with the ring in hand. She’d bought herself a few more precious days, but then she’d be gone.

For good.

“Jenny?” Cam paced to her side and stared at her. “Ye aren’t getting panicky, are ye?”

Yes, she was panicked. She was leaving a place that, of all the places she’d lived since she was five, had felt like home.

A worried frown pulled the tawny brows down. “If I have to, I’ll hire another catering firm and take care of it myself.”

“No.” She took in a deep breath. The tense tilt of his head eased at her motion. “I’m sure the current team can handle this. I’ll merely triple the order of everything and throw more of your money at them.”

“Eh.” His odd eyes twinkled. “That’s what money is for.”

“It really is for you, isn’t it?”

“What?” His head tilted again, this time in a quizzical fashion. “Money’s a means to an end, lass. Not anything to get worked up about.”

Jen thought of her grandfather, who counted every pound going out the door of his mansion. She thought about Cousin Lizzy’s mania for rich men and Cousin James with his intense focus on who would inherit what. “I guess.”

“Ye don’t sound too sure.” His mouth, the mouth that floated through her dreams on a regular basis, lifted at the edge. “And there’s another something about ye that has me fascinated.”

“Money is…” Her hand came to her mouth in an instinctive gesture. “Important.”

“Hmm.” His big hand grabbed hers. “Money is to be enjoyed. Like life.”

His hand was callused from the work he’d done in the garden alongside the landscape crew. It was hot with the heated blood running through his veins. But more than anything, his hand kept hers covered, safe, accepting.

“
You’ll want to remember your family, Jennet,”
Cousin Edward’s voice rang from her memory.
“
Remember what’s important.”

“I’m going outside to play!” Robbie’s voice replaced her memories.

She yanked her hand from his paw.

Giving her a lingering, inquiring look, Cam turned to watch his boy ripping through the barrel chest. “What are ye going to dress as today?”

“A pirate.” The kid flashed them both a grin. “I’ll go outside and dig for buried treasure.”

A big hand slid to her elbow and gave her a soft tug. “We’d better leave ye to get dressed.”

The hallway smelled of fresh lemon and the paintings gleamed. The antique tables and chairs that had once littered the walls had been dragged away, replaced with a few solid oak consoles and a long bench or two.

“I hate these paintings.” He glared at a particularly ugly replica of a wigged man with a bulbous nose.

“Then I’ll tell the cleaning manager to get rid of them,” she said. “I thought perhaps they were some of your ancestors.”

He barked a laugh. “My ancestors?” Walking to another painting, he sneered at a lady dressed in golden attire. “These pompous fuddy-duddies?”

“I take it that’s a no.”

He gave her a glinting leer before strolling to the next canvas. “My ancestors were more likely to be bloodthirsty Vikings or pillaging Picts.”

“Now I know where your son gets his talents.”

That earned her a chuckle.

Robbie’s door burst open and then slammed shut behind him. “I’m off!” he shrieked before galloping down the long hallway.

“Have fun,” she called to him.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” his father added.

She threw Cam a look.

“Leaves him with lots of possibilities, right?” He grinned. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

Jen realized she stood with him alone for the first time in days. Staring at him with something barely short of obsession. Knowing she wanted nothing more than to stay wherever he was for as long as he’d let her.

She swung her attention to the end of the hallway. “I’d better go see how Mrs. Rivers is coming along with the kitchen installations.”

“That doesn’t sound like much fun.” He took a step closer, the movement drawing her attention back to him.

A test.

“I have to call the caterers and triple the order, too.”

“Boring. Very boring.” He prowled closer.

Her heart fluttered with a mixture of fear and frustrated pleasure. Not since the night by the fire had Cameron Steward made any kind of sexual move. She’d been happy and sad all at the same time. He’d saved her from going through with her decision and making an awful mistake. Yet, his withdrawal had been a painful reminder—life was only fun and games to him. Not the horrible fall into love she faced.

“Not running, I see.” He came one step closer, close enough to touch, though he didn’t. “That’s an improvement.”

“I have things to do.”

In a swift movement that shocked her, his arm circled her waist and pulled her tight to his chest. “Hmm,” he purred into her ear.

“We shouldn’t do this.” She tried to keep herself still and taut. But his warm presence and his crisp scent surrounded her, drawing her in. “You said yourself this is a mistake.”

“What, this?” he murmured, nuzzling her neck and shoulders. “This touching?”

“Everything. Anything.” She squirmed in his arms, yet he wouldn’t let her go. And really, it didn’t take much of his effort. She was where she’d wanted to be for days. “Cam.”

“Jenny.” He reared his head to stare at her, his gaze sultry with sin. “Maybe you’re talking about this kissing we’re going to do.”

“We’re not.” A last valiant stab at the insanity of wanting him was the only thing she could do.

He smiled, a wicked, wily invitation. “We are.”

“Da!” A childish cry cut through the haze of desire curling between them.

Jen wrenched herself away from his loosening arms and turned to see Robbie’s head appearing at the top of the stairs.

“What?” His father’s one word sounded forced.

“Ye changed the locks on the cases with the guns and knives.” Outrage rang in the accusation. “I can’t pick them.”

“I did. And ye can’t.” Cam paced to the wall and leaned on it, his posture calm and mild. “I also locked up your granny’s room and,” his hand waved at the last door in the hall, “that one got a better lock, too.”

He’d locked up the ring.

Jen’s hands flew together in distress. Why hadn’t she taken it when she had the chance? What the heck was she going to do? Try and pick the lock herself? Climb through the window? The memory of her grandfather’s sorrowful expression filled her mind and guilt swam through her like a mud-filled moat. She’d stolen this time for herself, when all along, she should have been focused on stealing her grandfather’s ring.

His son marched down the hall, his red hat flying behind him, his red cheeks hot with anger. “I want a sword to play with.”

“No.” His father didn’t move and yet she sensed the tension escalating. “I’ve not been a good father to ye. But I aim to change that starting now.”

“Taking away my toys isn’t being a good father.”

“Guns and swords are not toys,” Cam stated, a militant look crossing his face. “And they aren’t yours. They’re mine.”

* * *

H
is son had inherited
his temper.

He knew it was his temper and not Martine’s psychotic rage, because while Rob was mad as a crazed kelpie, there was no actual madness in his gaze. Only a fierce, cunning intelligence trying to figure out how to win this argument. Having spent the last few days asking some questions of Mrs. Rivers and doing a bit of investigating around the house and grounds, Cam had come to some conclusions.

Rob had run the roost since he’d been very young.

His granny had overindulged him and coddled him.

The housekeeper ran scared every time the boy got angry—which his son used to his benefit. He was too smart for his own good and only one person on this estate could match his wits.