Lion of Caledonia: International Billionaires VII: The Scots (8 page)

To her employer, then?

She’d come here to take. How could walking up some steps be any greater of a betrayal?

“It isn’t a betrayal at all,”
her confident grandfather’s voice whispered in her memory
. “It’s reclaiming what’s ours.”

Before she could waffle any longer, she forced herself to climb the stairs.

The layout was grander than the third floor. A wide hallway led down the center, decorated with dusty, elegant, antique tables and large, gold-framed portraits of various aristocrats. None of the faces looking at her had odd-colored eyes, or the feline grace of her employer and his son.

Did Cameron Steward idly pick some random paintings to plaster on his wall?

“Psst.” The hushed noise was followed by a muffled giggle.

Jen crept past several impressive oak doors, following the lingering sound to one particular door. By her calculation, this room should be right below her own. Was this Robbie’s room? She pushed the heavy door open and peaked inside. Complete darkness. Her hands slid along the wall, finally finding the electrical switch.

Yes, this was Robbie’s room.

The evidence was clear. The barrel chest stuffed with costumes. A line of Harry Potter books competed with a mishmash of plastic soldiers and LEGOs. The mirror across from the bed had been decorated with some sort of odd crayon drawing.

What puzzled her was how drab and dank the room was. This was a child that sparkled with life. Yet the drapes were dark and heavy, covering any light from the two windows. The walls were painted a dull blue and the bed had a simple, ugly blanket. No Superman sheets or other colorful cartoon characters that appealed to children.

“Psst.”

She caught the edge of a blue-and-black tartan skirt out of the corner of her eye before it disappeared down the hall. Striding out of the room, she shut off the light and swung the door closed. Her instincts told her to go left, so she followed it.

“Psst.” Another hint slithered from the bottom of the next oak door.

She was close. Jen twisted the doorknob and pushed again.

Another gloomy, cold room. This time, however, when she slid her hand along the wall and flicked on the electric switch, nothing happened.

“Surprise!” The beam of a torch lit the delighted face of her young friend. “Ye found me.”

“With quite a bit of help.” She eased into the room.

“It’s okay.” His grin widened, looking spooky in the light beaming from below. “Ye would have never found me in here if I hadn’t helped.”

“Where’s here?” She tried to pick out any furniture, but could see little.

“This is my pirate’s cove. My private pirate’s cove.” The torch bobbled from his face, shedding its light on the entryway. “Which reminds me. Ye better close the door.”

“Are you sure?”

“This room needs to be dark and secret. Close the door, please.”

The combination of his strict manners and demanding order made her chuckle. She edged the door closed.

“Good. Thank ye.” Robbie smiled at her, the light back on his face.

“Why doesn’t the electricity work?”

“I turned it off,” the kid said, with a casual nod.

Jen stood still because she didn’t want to trip over any bounty, and she suddenly realized this boy could have created a fire danger. “It’s dangerous to fiddle with electric currents.”

This child needed someone close. All the time.

He shrugged. “I read about it. I knew what I was doing.”

Arguing with the son was as fruitless as arguing with the father. “So you keep it dark in here to hide all the treasures away?”

“Exactly.” The light swept the room, and she realized it was some sort of suite. A door opened at one end of the room and for a moment, she saw a grand canopy bed with extravagantly-carved wood columns. “This used to be my granny’s place.”

His childish voice echoed, giving her the sense the outer room was big and nearly empty. “Where is your granny now?”

“She’s dead.” Robbie spoke the words with a simple, quick flip, as if they meant nothing to him.

Yet she heard what was underneath. “You miss her.”

The light flashed across a sheet-covered sofa, past the outline of a bookshelf before arching back to the open bedroom door. “Let me show ye my pirate treasure.”

He’d avoided any acknowledgment, but she didn’t push. Pushing into pain was never a good idea. Jen followed behind him as he paced into the bedroom and across to an elaborate armoire. “It’s in here.”

The light trembled for a second and then, he pulled open one of the drawers. The light splattered onto a jumble of jewels. Extremely expensive jewels.

“Robbie,” she murmured, knowing in her heart what this child had led her to.

His glasses glinted as he swung his head to meet her gaze. “They are pretty, aren’t they?”

“They are.”

There were long strings of pearls and twists of gold interspersed with black onyx. Rings made of silver and platinum glittered with emeralds, sapphires, and rubies. Lots of rubies.

Another person in this family had loved to collect, too.

Shock ran through her that this trove wasn’t locked in a safe. This jewelry must be worth thousands. “I can’t believe your father—”

“He doesn’t care.” The boy tilted in, the torch gleaming off the jewelry. “He hasn’t been in this room since granny died.”

“When was that?”

Robbie glanced at her, his face stoic. “Six months ago. That’s when my da came back for good.”

“He should have this locked up.” Not that this development, this open display of jewelry, wasn’t to her benefit. But seriously. This lack of care was inexcusable.

“No.” The one word was flat. “This is my treasure now.”

And just then, as he claimed his rights, she spotted her grandfather’s ring. The ruby was larger than the others and once it caught her eye, it wouldn’t let go. A lace of gold filigree circled the stone, a delicate accent to the brilliance of the jewel.

“This is my favorite, and my gran’s favorite too.” As if sensing where her attention had gone, he plucked up her grandfather’s ring and held it out. “My da liked it so much he used it on his last book cover.”

“Yes, I know.” With a trembling hand, she took the ring and stared at her goal. A question zinged through her. Could Cameron Steward’s mother have been her grandfather’s lost love? Was this the reason this ring had found its place amongst so many others?

The door blew open. “What the hell is going on?”

With a click, the torch went off. “Darn,” the boy muttered. “Da was supposed to be gone all afternoon.”

Jen didn’t question how he knew this, when she’d known nothing. She’d come to rely on Robbie’s exquisite sense of this place and his father to keep them protected in their games. She should have been a little more wary.

“What are ye doing in here?” The growl rolled along the floor, encircling her.

Instant guilt clutched in her throat and before she could think it through, she dropped the ring into the pile of jewels, making a clatter.

“Robert?” The outline of his father loomed in the murk. One long arm reached for the switch, then cursed when nothing happened. “Why isn’t the light working?”

“We can hide beneath the bed,” his son whispered. “Until he’s gone.”

“I don’t think that will work.” Amusement bubbled inside her. These two were such a pair. “He’ll find us.”

The silhouette at the door moved, broad shoulders hunching, long arms swinging as he paced to where they stood. “Give me the torch.”

A big paw, barely seen, yet powerful nonetheless, reached out.

With a soft gulp, his son complied.

The light flashed on, roaming across Jen and Robbie’s faces before alighting on the jewelry. “Hmm.”

Without saying anything else, Cameron Steward swung around and marched back to the door. Plucking out some kind of knife from his pocket, he began to unscrew the socket.

“Darn,” the boy by her side grumbled.

“What’s he doing?” she whispered back.

“He’s fixing the light.” A resigned sigh scuttled from his chest. “And he’ll want to know who did it.”

“I can say I did it.” This boy and his father needed to be close and if taking the blame meant making that happen, she’d be glad to step in.

The child’s keen eyes assessed her. “I don’t think he’ll believe it.”

These two were meant to be together. If they only spent a bit of time with each other, they’d end up being a constant challenge to one another. Exactly what they both yearned for.

The chandelier light flickered on above them, shining with an unwavering glow.

The torch went off.

“Well.” The father leaned negligently on the wall, his powerful arms crossed in front of him, his odd eyes alight with curiosity and challenge. “Who wants to talk first?”

R
obbie went uncharacteristically silent
.

“We were playing hide-and-go-seek,” Jen offered, her voice stilted, and yet, the amusement still bubbled. Not since being called on the carpet by her grandfather had she been made to feel like such a child. Something broke free inside her; the child she’d lost long ago. “We found ourselves here.”

“Did ye?” A tawny brow flicked upward. “And to play this game, the lights had to be fiddled with?”

“I did that way before today,” his son piped in. “Ye just didn’t know about it.”

Something about his voice made her look down at him. His small face had gone fierce with aggression.

Her heart pumped. No, she wanted these two to connect. “Robbie—”

“It’s not as if you’re ever here,” the boy continued, his voice rising. “It’s not as if ye care.”

His father straightened, the curiosity and challenge falling out of his eyes to be replaced with…

A shattered shock.

“Robbie.” She placed a soothing hand on his bony shoulder. “You’re father is worried about the fire hazard.”

“He isn’t.” The boy vibrated with anger, his skin hot on her palm. “He’d like this whole place to burn down, if he had his way.”

The accusation rang in the silence that followed.

“You’ll not be disabling the electricity again.” The shattered look in his father’s gaze had been replaced with stoic indifference. “Is that understood, Robert?”

“I understand.” His son tugged out of Jen’s grip and marched to the door. “I understand a lot more than ye think.”

He left, his stomping shoes thudding down the hall until his bedroom door slammed shut.

His father stared at her, his predator eyes filled with accusation and worry. “I’ve told ye. The boy can’t be running around. He’ll get sick.”

“He’s fine, Cam.” His name slipped out again, but the worry in the man’s voice and gaze tore at her heart. “You saw. He didn’t wheeze at all and he was upset. Very upset.”

“I saw.” His head lowered to contemplate the old carpet. “Maybe I need to take him to the doctor again for another evaluation.”

“That would be good.” She wrapped her arms around her, suddenly aware she stood alone in a room with no computer and work to keep her safe from his appeal. “A good first step.”

“First step?” The big, broad shoulders drooped as a caustic laugh escaped him. “First step to what?”

She shouldn’t go near, she shouldn’t. But the ache in him was too much for her. With two halting steps, she drew closer and dared to put a hand on his chest. “Believe me, he adores you.”

His deep breath moved the ribcage beneath her palm and his heartbeat drummed under her fingers. “You’re an overly optimistic lass, aren’t ye?”

Jen glanced up before she thought better. Those eyes, so unique and odd, were dark with pain. A pain she shouldn’t want to heal or help. “You need to spend time with him.”

“I’ve tried.” He lifted a finger and drew a line across her cheek and along to her neck. The touch was soft and hesitant as if he waited for another rejection. “I’m not good in the indoors with indoor games. The boy makes sure I know it.”

Yet they could spend hours together showing each other their collections. With a certainty, she knew Robbie would love to have his father talk about his pens. And this man before her would be entranced with the marbles and sea shells.

“Ye see?” he said in the face of her silence. “It’s hopeless.”

First, though, perhaps they needed some space as they came together. “Your son spends most of his time outdoors.”

At the drop of her words, the finger stilled on the tip of her chin. “What?”

The stark disbelief in his voice was laced with a side of panic.

“He’s outside all the time,” she rushed on, trying to stop any of his concern. “He and I hike everywhere.”

“Really?” His finger resumed its meandering trail across her skin as if he’d forgotten he was touching her. “He doesn’t cough?”

“Not once.”

“Hmm.” He stroked down her throat and then back up.

Keeping her gaze on the ridge of his black jumper because she was afraid to see what emotions swam in those piercing eyes, she tried to bridge the gap between father and son once more. “Ask him to do something outdoors, Cameron. Ask him and see what he says.”

“Ye reckon he’ll do something with me?” The bittersweet yearning in his voice made her want to weep.

She couldn’t be sure Robbie would say yes, yet she hoped for both of their sakes, he would. “Try. Take a second step.”

His finger nudged at her jaw, and she finally had to look at him. The pain still lingered on the edges, but the center of the brown now sizzled with excitement. “Here we are again. So close.”

Before she could be tempted into stupidity, she pushed away.

His hand dropped to his side.

“Promise me you’ll try,” she coaxed.

“We’ll see.” Sticking his hands in both pockets, he ambled to the open jewelry drawer. “My mum loved her ornaments.”

Did your mother once love my grandfather
?

The question swirled inside her brain. Still, she couldn’t afford to ask because that opened her to other questions. Questions this smart, investigative reporter would surely grab on to.

He leaned in and plucked on the same ring his son had handled a few minutes ago. “This one was her favorite.”

“That’s what Robbie said.”

“Did he?” He eyed the ring as the light glinted off the radiant stone. “I used it on my latest book cover in her honor.”

Jen had figured it was something like that, but the confession punched her nonetheless. In her silly dreams, she’d held on to the hope—perhaps asking for the jewel would be enough. She dreaded taking it, dreaded doing something that would be labeled stealing by anyone who didn’t know her grandfather. But his words told her this was the only way she was going to obtain what she’d come to this place for.

“She was a good woman.” There was something there in Cam’s voice, something more than the simple statement. It wasn’t love there, or sadness. The emotion she heard underneath the words was bitter, even angry.

Before she could make sense of that, he placed the ring back on the pile of other jewels and nudged the drawer shut. Turning, he gave her a cocky, casual look. A look she’d come to realize was a cover.

Gone was the pain and the fear and the want she’d seen on his face a few minutes ago and heard in his voice over the last interlude. “You’ll be staying out of this room now,” he stated.

“I only came in because I was playing with your son.”

His mouth quirked, yet a strand of seriousness laced through his words. “I’ll have your promise.”

She couldn’t. She couldn’t give him that and give her grandfather what she’d vowed to. “You didn’t promise, so why should I?”

And just like that, she escaped his grasp. He laughed, and the stern expression on his face disappeared. He thought she was joking, teasing him. She never teased a man before and she wasn’t doing it now. She was protecting herself and her mission.

But she’d escaped.

Because if he’d forced the issue, he’d spot her lie. Then, he might figure out why she was really here.

To steal.

* * *

H
e paced back and forth
, in his usual way, from window to window, the words rolling off his tongue.

Cameron Steward was in his element.

Jen typed along, listening more to the story than focusing on the words stringing across the page. His villain was about to kill the first victim and she couldn’t wait.

“Not this time, she said, as she danced away.” His rich voice filled the room, confident in his tale, forceful in the delivery. “You’ll need to catch me before I do anything with ye.”

Her fingers stuttered to a stop.

“The woman didn’t know what she faced. The anything was going to be her death.”

Her fingers didn’t move on the keyboard.

“I’m going to take ye on a ride, his unknowing victim laughed. I’m going to win.”

“She wouldn’t say that,” she blurted before she could stop herself. “She’s afraid of him.”

He froze by the bookshelf. “What did ye say?”

The frost on his voice should have made her quake. It did make her quake. Yet she kept going because she loved the story and she wanted it right. “She wouldn’t…” She peeped at him, which stopped her objection.

He had his fierce frown on, and his arms were locked in a tight hold in front of him.

“Never mind.” She looked back at the computer screen.

“Och, no.” From the corner of her eye, she saw him drop his hands and prowl towards her. “I can’t
never mind
an objection like that.”

“I’m not the writer.”

“But you’re a woman.” He stopped at the side of the desk, within her reach. “So go ahead and tell me what you’re thinking.”

The familiar knot in her throat tightened. “I don’t think I should.”

“Should.” His drew the word out. “Another one of those intriguing words.”

Breathing in through her nose, she tried to pull something coherent from her mind, yet she couldn’t find anything—except her objection to what he just dictated. And she didn’t want to voice that again.

“Should has so many barriers attached to it, don’t ye think?”

“I don’t know,” she sputtered.

“Should and can’t are so different than will and won’t.”

Nothing. Completely nothing in her brain to say.

With a swift swipe, his hand grabbed onto the chair and twirled her around to face him.

“No.” Her voice trailed off when he knelt in front of her.

He was so much. His big shoulders closed her in. His big paws landed by the sides of her hips, filling her with heat. Plus, his eyes, his predator eyes, wouldn’t let her go.

His voice went soft and subtle. “Let me help you, too.”

“Help me?” She didn’t understand what he meant. She didn’t need any help, other than helping herself to his mother’s ring. If she thought he’d help her with that, she’d ask, but she knew he wouldn’t. He’d rejected every one of her grandfather’s requests. And by the way both he and Robbie had acted when they’d talked about the ring, she’d find no help for her quest with either of them.

“Ye helped me yesterday.” The brown of his eyes burned with warmth, and the gold edge around the center flamed with heated fire. “Ye gave me hope with my boy and I appreciate it.”

“It wasn’t anything.” She tightened her hands in a knot in her lap so she wouldn’t be tempted to touch. “I didn’t do—”

“And there’s where I can help ye.”

His words confused her into a frown. “I don’t understand.”

“Who taught ye that ye shouldn’t?” His voice purred through her. “Who trained ye to say
can’t
?”

She sucked in a breath.

“Who made ye think who ye are and what ye do isn’t important?”

The questions were like pointed darts, hitting right in the center of her heart. The pain made her angry. Angry enough to tell the truth. “Experience. Everyone.”

His hands smoothed down her wool-covered legs, making her jump and then melt. “Everyone, eh? Your family?”

Jen was not going to talk about her family. Not only because she didn’t want to confess anything else, but because eventually, this inquisitive, intelligent man would be searching for any trace of her and the ring and her family. “We need to work, Mr. Steward.”

He stopped moving his hands over her, but he still held on. “It’s back to Mr. Steward, then?”

“Yes.” Making herself push his hands away, she yanked the chair around and stared at the computer. “If you’re not going to dictate any more today, I’ll leave.”

“There’s your other coping skill.” He straightened to stand above her, a looming presence. “Running.”

The anger, the burn, simmered, yet long experience had taught her well. Breathing in through her nose, she kept quiet.

“Well, I know when to make a strategic retreat.” With feline grace, he prowled to his window bay. “I’ve got a favor to ask of ye, so I need to tread carefully.”

“A favor?” The wry humor in his voice made the burn flare, but the surprise request threw a pail of cold water over it. “What kind of favor?”

“A God-what-am-I-going-to-do favor.”

She turned to stare at him. His voice held outright hilarity and his eyes gleamed with mischief. Just like his son, he was up to something and he couldn’t wait.

“All right,” she said slowly. “Ask.”

“It’s been a couple of days since I announced my party plans.” He swung around to peer out at the loch and his barren garden. A chuckle rumbled from his chest. “I’m not seeing much activity from Mrs. Rivers.”

Jen had honestly expected the housekeeper to disappear for good, by the horrified expression she’d seen on the woman’s face. Fresh food had been stocked in her fridge last night, though, so she supposed the woman still existed on the premises. “I don’t think she can do what you want.”

“Ye think?” The chuckle turned into a roar of laughter.

All the burn, all the anger at this man’s forceful questions, fell away. Because he laughed at himself. She didn’t know any men who laughed at themselves. Something solid and fresh lodged right above her heart. Or maybe inside.