Laird of the Highlands: International Billionaires IX: The Scots (13 page)

T
he woman stood
in the middle of his bedroom, her white skin flushed, her hands twisting in front of her, her sensual mouth opening and closing.

There was only one thing Lorne could think about—the bed right behind him.

“I don’t…” she trailed off again.

She’d dismissed his offer for help with a sniff and trotted down the steps like she’d done it a thousand times. Which he supposed she had. That thought had riled him enough he’d left her alone and retreated back to his bedroom and work. He’d assumed she’d stomp past him and out to her garden. Instead, she’d wandered into this room with this bed, looking like she’d lost her way.

The look made him want to pull her into his arms. Into his bed.

That fragile look reminded him of how she’d been on his rock.

Kind. Open. Real.

He’d decided.

Somewhere between his rock and this room on the last day he’d seen her, he’d decided.

He was going to fuck Ceri Llewellyn.

The fact she’d been with his father stuck in his gut like a sharp dirk, but it didn’t stop his determination. As soon as he’d touched her, he’d known with a deep certainty: he could have her. He’d felt the same confidence when he’d seen his first computer. A knowing he was meant to have it. Meant to have her.

“You didn’t have to,” she sputtered.

“What?” Distracted by the bed and her, he couldn’t make sense of her words.

“The roof.” She waved her hand at the ceiling.

Lorne frowned. “What?”

“It’s going to cost thousands.”

“Yes.” Needing to find something to focus on so he could understand her train of thought, he walked to the window and stared at the shimmering pane.

“I can’t pay you back,” she stated, a quiver in her voice. “At least not for years.”

Pay him back? His frown deepened, his focus ruined again. What did she mean by that? “It’s my responsibility. I took care of it.”

“It’s not,” she shot the words at him with immediate heat. “It’s my castle.”

This would be the third time today she’d made this claim. Saying something over and over again didn’t make it true. The same frustration he felt around illogical women returned, yet it didn’t quench his decision to have Ceri.

Her AF7817 eyes had looked straight into his when they’d sat on his rock and for the first time in his life, he’d seen desire in a female’s gaze.

The knowledge had zinged inside him for days.

She wanted him.

If he’d needed any more proof, she’d let him touch her. Touch her impossibly soft cheek, the line of her jaw. Her plush lip.

The memory gave him an instant erection. Exactly as it had for these last three days. He’d gone back to his daily routine in his morning shower. He didn’t push away the images of her now. He welcomed them. Because he was going to make those images come true.

“Did you hear me?”

The images filled his head, blanking her question out. It amazed him how vivid they were. They were as graphic as all the images he’d get before starting to code a new game. He never moved into a new project before getting clear, distinct visions of what he wanted.

He had a very clear, distinct vision of what was going to happen between this woman and him.

A hand pushed at his back, jerking him from his trance. “Don’t ignore me,” she said, her voice filled with her usual anger.

She might be angry with him often, but she wanted him.

Almost as much as he wanted her.

Lorne turned to confront her flushed, furious face. Her skin amazed him. He could code for a thousand years without creating the beauty of her cheeks and forehead and neck. He wondered what the rest of her skin looked like. The thought made something go off inside him. Something wild and savage that shocked him taut.

She glared at him. “Say something.”

Closing his eyes, he zeroed in on what was important to explain to her. “The roof was damaged and needed to be fixed.”

Her sigh washed over him. “I know.”

“I have the money to fix it.” He made the next logical point before moving to the following one. “So I ordered it done.”

She sighed again. “It’s that easy for you, is it?”

“Yes.” Lorne didn’t think there was anything else to say so he stopped. He risked opening his eyes only to find it was a mistake.

She’d moved closer.

If this was any other person, he’d say they were too close. Still, this had been another clue for him. He liked her close. He wanted her closer. Never had he felt this way about any other person on the planet. Not even his mum, who’d continued to try and cuddle him until the day she’d died.

The top of Ceri Llewellyn’s head would fit right under his chin.

He wondered what she would do if he pulled her into his arms. He’d never been this close to getting a woman. And though his instincts told him this was true, he didn’t know what to do from here in order to get to the amazing images he had stored in his head.

He needed to call Doc.

Before he could move away, she angled her head to look at him. Tears were in her eyes.

Tears
?

Rearing back, his shoulder hit the window with a clunk. His mind went crazy with worry and panic. He didn’t know what to do with a female when they cried. His da had always taken care of his mum when she’d been upset and Doc handled any issues at work. What the hell had he done to make her cry? What the hell was he supposed to do to get her to stop?

“Thank you,” she whispered, her lush lips moving, stunning him. Then she smiled and her eyes turned to glowing goldenrod.

All remaining thought and logic disappeared like ephemeral whiffs of air.

He dove in.

She gasped against his mouth, letting his tongue into her. Lorne hadn’t kissed anyone’s mouth, ever, and he found it to be as astonishing as anything he’d ever experienced.

Wet and warm. Tangy and delicious.

Her gasp turned into a moan of acceptance and a thrill of victory rushed through him, making him dizzy.

Closer. She needed to be closer.

His hands moved around her, tugging her into him and another shot of amazement roared through him.

Unlike his body, hers was all round glory and sumptuous splendor. Her breasts pressed on his hard chest, making his heart pound like a chugging locomotive. Her hips settled into the center of him, making his own hips jerk against her.

His cock exploded into a violent, explosive orgasm.

Pulling away from his first kiss, he groaned in agonized embarrassment and overwhelming pleasure.

The woman nestled into him, breathing softly on his neck.

“Bloody hell.” Opening his eyes to his reality, he couldn’t think of what to do next. His hands still gripped her hips, she still stood in his arms. The front of his jeans was damp. He’d never been more ashamed in his entire life. If he could have fallen into the stone of his castle, fallen down and down into the old dungeon, he would have.

Instead, he went silent, retreating into himself, closing his eyes to reality.

“Lorne.”

He let go of her so she would leave. He wanted her to leave.

But he couldn’t say the words.

“Look at me.”

“No.”

Inexplicably, she laughed. Not the bright, joyous sound she’d made on his rock. Rather, a husky, womanly laugh filled with promise. Her hands slid around his waist.

His cock went erect once more, stunning him.

“Mmm.” She bumped her hips against his damp jeans.

“You need to leave.” He finally found the words.

“Do I?” She laughed once more.

Lorne’s muffled brain came to life. Apparently, she wasn’t put off by what had just happened. Apparently, he hadn’t ruined his first shot at being with a woman. Apparently, he still had hope.

He opened his eyes and met hers.

She smiled, her gaze knowing.

There was another reason why he was going to be with this woman. She knew. The security team had told him about the gossip in her hometown. She had more experience than only with her dead husband. This woman would know how to initiate him into lovemaking. She’d show him how to make a woman happy.

He grabbed her hips again. “The bed.”

The dark flash of her brows lifted. “What?”

“There’s a bed.” He took a step toward it with her in his arms.

Her eyes widened before narrowing into indignant slits. “That’s it?”

Stopping, he stared at her, not understanding. He wished he could tell her to stay right here so he could go call Doc, but his latent instincts told him she’d bolt. “There’s a bed right here,” he tried to explain one more time.

“You go from a kiss and getting horny to thinking you’re going to have sex with me?” Outrage filled her voice.

“Yes.” That was logical, wasn’t it? He didn’t see anything wrong with the train of thought.

“You bastard.” She pushed out of his arms with a hard thrust and marched to the door.

“But that’s what ye do.” Or that’s what he thought was the progression. Wasn’t it?

His words seemed to hit her like a plank because she stumbled to a stop. Whirling around, she glared hot flames at him. “You rotten bastard. You’re never going to get near me again.”

With that, she was gone.

Leaving him feeling confused and foolish. Overwhelmed and even more determined.

* * *

L
orne had learned quite
a lot from his da.

Not anything of importance to his way of thinking. He hadn’t needed to know what kind of birds flew above him when he’d arrived at Oxford. Whether or not a person should breed one sheep with another to produce better wool had never added anything to his computer codes. And knowing how old a particular pine tree was didn’t make him any richer or smarter.

However, during the last three days, he had come to appreciate one trait his father had imparted to him as a young boy.

Tracking prey.

He’d observed her from his tower for weeks, of course. But that was different to what he did now. Watching her garden and plant, while idly wondering when she’d understand this was an exercise in futility, was far different then his aim at this point.

He hunted her. He aimed to get her.

She’d spent the last two days with the landscaping crew. She hadn’t minded getting dirty, or worried about her clothing. That was distinctive from other women he’d observed in the past.

She kept a distance of a foot or two from all the men.

Not like when she was with him.

The fact made him grunt.

The lights in the cottage went out before ten p.m. every night and came on before dawn. She was an early-to-bed and early-to-rise person. She didn’t appear to take naps like he did. He wondered if she’d nap with him after they’d had sex.

She came into the garden at least an hour before the crew arrived and walked around each flower bed, plucking out weeds and watering every plant. She was as thorough as he was with his code.

The similarity pleased him.

The woman wore a uniform of baggy clothes—only changing in color, never in form. None of the jumpers or jeans flaunted what he’d felt along his body. The curves and dips, the lushness. This pleased him too. An emotion ran through him and he’d stopped to analyze and label it.

Territorial.

That was interesting and he was still taking the realization in.

Her hair was always in a ponytail and she never wore any makeup. She rarely smiled. She never laughed.

He’d made her laugh. Several times. His ego bloomed every time he thought of this.

He’d decided she was predictable in her habits, if not in her emotional reactions.

Until today.

Lorne leaned on the windowsill and peered at the glass house. He’d opened the window and let the peaty breeze in, even though he still didn’t like the smell. But he had more important things on his mind. Like getting a better view of the glass house. It was an oblong structure which stood where he’d once played in a sandbox. The sunlight obscured what was inside and he hadn’t paid much attention to the place until now.

She’d been inside there all day.

That wasn’t quite accurate. She’d taken a break about two hours ago and went to the cottage. Since it had been 12:14 p.m. he projected she was eating something. He’d gone down to the castle kitchen and eaten the last of the food Reid had bought in the village.

Munching on the sandwich, he’d thought the problem out.

He had no desire to go into Pictloch and shop, so he’d called the grocer who had a new roof coming because of Ross money. Mr. Stevenson had been happy to send more food. The delivery should be here in time for his dinner and there’d be enough food to last him at least two weeks.

In two weeks, a lot could happen.

Like getting her. Kissing her again. Having another orgasm again, this time inside her.

His eyes narrowed as something black caught his attention, a movement under the glass. Her dark curls, probably. What was she doing in there? Growing something. There was enough green under the glass to tell him that.

Frustration stirred inside.

He should have checked this out. Clearly, whatever was in the glass house was a part of her. And he needed to know everything about her before he made his next move. He didn’t want to be surprised. He never did well when surprised. The next time with her, he wanted to do well.