Laird of the Highlands: International Billionaires IX: The Scots (19 page)

A satellite truck.

“
Cnych
.”

“What, dear?” One of the ladies from the tour turned to give her a worried look. “Is there something wrong with where we’re going?”

“No, no. I just remembered something I need to take care of.” Her nails bit into her palms as she put on another smile. She should have taken her one tube of lipstick and painted the thing on her face. “Please enjoy the gardens and I’ll be right back.”

Before the lady could respond, Ceri raced down the path. She knew Lorne Ross was stubborn, perhaps even as stubborn as she was. Still, didn’t he see that putting a satellite dish on top of the cottage’s old thatched roof would be disastrous?

He stood beside the same two men who’d installed the satellite the last time. He’d showered and dressed in his new uniform of casual jeans and a jumper, this one blue. His glorious hair, something he’d obviously inherited from a fifteenth-century relative, was pulled back in his customary bun.

Lust bubbled inside, making her angrier.

All three men were staring at the roof.

“You can’t.” She rushed to their side. “You can’t possibly think that—”

“I can see it won’t work on the roof, Ceri.” His gently dangerous voice swept over her objections. “That’s what we’re discussing right now.”

“You can’t put it here at all.”

“Och,” said one of the installers, the short, grumpy one. “Are we going to go through this argument again?”

“No, we aren’t.” Lorne Ross took her arm and pulled her toward the cottage. “I’ve decided to use your suggestion of a pole alongside the back wall.”

“Right.” The tall man with the mustache smiled. “We’ll get to work on it, sir.”

Ceri tried to yank herself out of her enemy’s grasp, but he was too strong and too determined. “You’re not putting some pole on my land.”

He sighed before opening the front door. “Here ye go again. Repeating yourself.”

Pushing her through the front door, he slammed it behind them. “There. Now ye can say what ye will and it won’t confuse the workmen.”

Finally managing to jerk her arm out of his grasp, she turned to face him with a scowl. “I’m not some irritating child who needs to be put in her place.”

He leaned on the door and crossed his arms. His slate-blue eyes weren’t the lazy, morning gaze or the lusty, evening one. They weren’t the blank ones she hated, either.

“What?” She glared at him, trying to figure out what emotion swirled in his eyes.

“I let ye have the evening to think about our deal.” His focus never shifted from her. “Now it’s time to seal it.”

Calculation. That was what was in his eyes.

“No.” She mimicked him by folding her arms in front of her. “No deal.”

“You’re a smart woman. Think hard before ye reject what I’m offering.”

“You’re not offering anything I want.”

A twinkle lit at the back of those eyes, turning the blue into an azure blaze. “And now, you’re lying something fierce.”

“I’m not—”

“I might not have vast experience with women, I’ll admit that.” He didn’t appear perturbed or worried about his lack. His gaze never wavered and his body still lounged with apparent ease on the door.

He was so odd.

Any other man would have been ashamed at losing his control in front of a woman. Any other man would have hidden from her instead of coming after her once more. Any other man wouldn’t have asked for guidance on how to kiss and how to pleasure her.

Why did his oddness make her horny as hell?

“Ye might not want me here, or want me to challenge ye for ownership of the castle and the land.” His mouth curled at the edges with a sure knowledge. “But ye want me, lass. Ye want me.”

“I don’t.” Her hands fisted under her arms.

“What Doc said makes sense now. Finally.”

“You’ve been talking about me with your friend?” Irritation ticked inside her. “What did he say?”

“Like I said, I don’t have a lot of experience.” He nudged away from the door and took a step closer. “I needed Doc’s suggestions.”

She took a step back. “Suggestions on what?”

“He told me you’d be running scared.” He followed her backtracking into the middle of the den. “He told me you’d probably fight the bargain I offered at first.”

“Running scared?” Snorting her contempt for the analysis, she took a side step past him towards the cold fireplace. “Never.”

“You’re doing it right now.” With a nimble move that surprised her, he blocked her from escaping around the sofa. “Trying to run from me.”

“I’m not—”

“Doc had some other suggestions.” He eased closer, pinning her between the sofa and the edge of the fireplace.

“I have no interest—”

“On how to catch ye.” His arm shot out and grabbed her, tugging her into his embrace.

“I’m not your prey.” She wiggled, but he was surprisingly strong. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her tight against his lean body.

She glared at him. “You have no—”

“I’m thinking we should seal the deal with a kiss.” His keen, focused gaze trailed down to her lips. “What do ye say?”

“I say there is no deal and there’s not going to be a kiss.”

He grunted. However, he didn’t do anything else. He didn’t pull her in closer, or take her mouth, or say anything else. He merely stared at her.

Through his jeans and her pants, she felt his erection grow.

He kept staring.

Ceri felt as if this were another kind of conflict, one she couldn’t chance losing. She stared back, feeling silly.

Feeling horny.

The realization smacked into her making her flush.

“Ye have the most beautiful skin I’ve ever seen.” His words were monotone, his face bland, and yet she felt every word as if he’d kissed them on her cheeks and chin.

This near, she saw that his lashes were gold-tipped. They were also amazingly lavish, an auburn sweep of glory. The dance of freckles on his skin had distracted her before, but now she saw his nose was slightly crooked. Somehow, though, that fit the face. His beard circled his mouth and she found herself staring at his lower lip, ripe and lush for a man.

“Ceri,” he whispered, moving that mouth and bringing back the memories she’d tried so hard to forget.

Memories of how he tasted.

Memories of how he groaned.

Memories of the pleasure he’d given her.

“I’m not going to do it.”

“What?” She lifted her dazed eyes to meet his.

“Kiss ye first.” Slate-blue eyes burned with need. “And if ye kiss me, lass, know it means we have a deal.”

She shouldn’t. She shouldn’t let him seduce her into doing something stupid. But his frankness, his inexperience, his complete lack of guile, made him all the more impossible to resist.

“Come on.” His fingers flexed on her skin. “Kiss me and seal the deal.”

S
he closed
her eyes and her body went tense in his arms.

“Ceri,” he whispered, wanting so much, wanting her to do this for him, wanting with a deep, dark, furious need he’d never experienced. “Please, lass.”

Lorne didn’t know why this was important, but it was. He had to have her acknowledge her need for him and also accept the deal he’d laid before her.

He had to.

For a moment, she hung in his arms, suspended. Then, slowly, she leaned forward. Her eyes were still closed, yet her mouth went straight to his and latched on with precision.

He gasped before sucking on her ripe bottom lip with a joyful thrill he’d never experienced, either.

Lorne had experienced thrills before. As a child, he’d been awkward, but he’d experienced the thrill of taking his first swim in Ross Burn. As a teenager, he’d experienced the thrill of his first computer. As an adult, he’d have said he hadn’t experienced any better thrill than when he’d finally secured the financing for Gaes, Inc.

This thrill was better. Better than all of them put together.

She’d kissed him. She’d accepted him and his deal.

She wanted him.

With a swift move that startled him, she put her hands around his neck and tilted her head. The kiss turned from hot to burning in one second. He groaned low in his throat.

“Lorne,” she trilled in the way she did. “Open your mouth.”

His lips went slack and she sank into him with a surge of pure passion.

The taste of her. God. The taste.

Salty and sexy. Sassy and sweet.

In a frenzy now, he stuck his tongue deep into her, lapping along her teeth, sucking in her essence.

Then, she groaned too. Just as loud and long as he had.

Feverish desire shot him straight into the stars. He thought he might explode, but everything inside him forced the impulse into submission. This time, he’d have everything. This time he’d take her completely. His hands fisted on her arse and pushed her into the raging heat of his cock.

A sharp rap came on the door.

His heart sank down and down and down, taking his lust with it.

Panting, she pulled away, pushing on his chest. “We have to stop.”

Reflexively, his fingers tightened on her lush butt.

“Lorne.” Her gaze met his and his brain flipped at what he saw.

Lust. Passion. Need.

“I have to work. My tours.” The lust and passion and need faded from the golden center of her eyes, replaced with panic. “I left my last tour without finishing.”

The crack of the rap came again. “Ceri? Is everything all right?”

“Tell them to go away. Tell them ye are busy.” He forced the words out, tight and hard. Nothing like his usual cool tone, yet he didn’t care. This was too important.

Her eyes widened and he noticed, for the first time, how utterly black her lashes were. As black as the screen he coded on.

“Do it, Ceri,” he rasped.

“Hello?” Another knock rang into the room. “Your next VIP group is here.”

“
Shite
.” She wrenched out of his arms and stumbled to the fireplace. “My hair’s a mess.”

Her hands trembled as she finger-combed it back into her ponytail. He was astonished to realize his hands had pulled on her hair when he’d had no conscious memory of doing so. For a man who tracked what his brain thought every minute of the day, the realization hit him right smack in his chest, making him dizzy.

Turning, she scowled at him and took in a deep breath. The action drew his attention to her breasts.

Gorgeous and soft. Out of his reach. At least, for now.

A short, sharp laugh came from her. “You’re so predictable.”

That was not true. He’d been told many times he was anything but. He’d been told he was weird and odd and strange. “I am not.”

Her head tilted and amusement lit her eyes. “You’re right.”

Amused at him? She’d kissed him like she wanted him and no other, yet now she looked at him as if he were some kind of strange oddity who had merely tickled her fancy for a moment or two. Or perhaps he hadn’t even done that. Hadn’t kissed her like a real man should and hadn’t been tempting enough she’d tell her employee to leave so they could continue. “I might not have all the experience in the world,” he offered, his heart stuttering. “But I’m still a man.”

“You’re an utterly different kind of man.” She said the words in slow motion, as if she wasn’t sure this was a good thing.

He suddenly ached. Ached from his brain right to his soul.

Lorne paced into the kitchen and focused on the sink, trying to calm himself.

“I’ve got to go.” She threw the word over her shoulder, before opening the door and walking out.

The door slammed behind her.

He focused on the streams of light gilding the edge of the sink until his blood simmered into heat instead of fire. He kept his gaze on the steel rim until his brain came back online and told him he’d survive. He waited for a long time, keeping his gaze fixated. However, the ache didn’t diminish like his lust. The ache kept hurting.

Finally deciding it wasn’t going away, he let himself look at the dirty dish he’d left in the sink this morning.

I’m not your maid.

His intelligent mind snapped to an immediate conclusion. Maybe he wasn’t the best kisser in the world, and he certainly couldn’t claim to be the best lover. Not yet. There were other things he could do for Ceri, though, which would let her see he was worth taking to bed.

The woman had too much to do. This was the key.

She had the VIP tours, whatever those were. She had to keep this house clean. She had those plants of hers in the greenhouse to take care of. The point was, she didn’t have enough time to spend with him. Time to see that he might not be predictable and he might not yet be the best kisser or lover, but he had other things to offer her if only she took a moment to see them.

She needed to delegate. That was a simple fix.

He’d done it for Doc, he could do it for her.

Two years into their business, his partner had gone from sunny-tempered to a raging madman. When Lorne had finally glanced away from his computer and noticed their employees were leaving at a fast clip and Doc was spending most of his day yelling, he took steps. He went through the man’s workload and delegated.

Hugh had been grateful. So were the remaining employees.

If he could figure out Hugh’s schedule, he could figure out Ceri’s.

Slipping his mobile out of his jeans, he started his calls.

* * *

T
he day had been extremely
successful.

And extremely mortifying.

Ceri waved at her three employees as they clambered into their car to make the drive back to Pictloch. They’d made more on the first day of the tours than any of the previous years. Any other time, she and Will would have been chortling over the receipts and having a nice glass of wine in celebration.

Bittersweet memories rushed through her, making her shoulders droop.

Trying to banish the ghosts, she turned and tugged on the castle door to make sure the lock held. Then, she finally let herself glance at the cottage for the first time since she’d left the scene of her embarrassing capitulation.

She’d kissed him.

She’d sealed their deal.

Lorne Ross was right. She was as stuck as he was and being stubborn about it did her no good. It would be incredibly easy for him to close her tours down if he wanted. He had all the money in the world and his own personal weasel of a solicitor. The fact he was willing to make a deal with her should be looked at as a blessing.

Something in her gut trembled and shook, though. Something in her gut told her this wasn’t a blessing for her, but instead, her potential downfall.

She didn’t want to face him. Not yet.

Plopping her butt on the first of the castle’s stone steps, she wrapped her arms around her legs and sighed. This avoidance wasn’t only about the deal. The deal that had him in her home for the foreseeable future.

This was about wanting him in her bed.

She really wanted him in her bed.

Confronting that reality, she sighed once more and placed her head on her knees. Reality was sooner or later, if she let him stay, she’d be unable to say no to anything he proposed as far as sex.

They’d be lovers.

A shiver of worried pleasure ran up her spine. Before, when she’d contemplated taking him, she’d thought she could do it and easily dismiss him. But what happened now, when he would be in her life the next day and the next? What happened when she’d be unable to resist taking him into her bed over and over again? And what happened when the court finally decided and he might win the right to force her from her home?

How would her heart react when and if that happened?

Her hands tightened around her knees. She’d be driven from her home, this time by her lover instead of her husband. And this time, it would hurt far more than the last time. That realization stunned her.

She shouldn’t put herself in this situation. Yet she didn’t have a choice.

Her only hope was the tours, and the only way the tours were going to continue was letting Lorne Ross stay at her cottage. If he stayed, she’d take him as a lover.

Her heart clunked in her chest.

So what happened if the reverse occurred? What happened if the tours allowed her to cling to the castle long enough that the court ruled in her favor? Then she’d be the one forcing him out of his family’s home once and for all. Her lover. How was she going to feel about that?

“Are ye done for the day?”

She jerked her head up to find him standing at the bottom of the castle stairs. He had on his signature grin that made her blood hot, and the green jumper that made his hair glow in impossible glory.

“Yes,” she muttered, hating him for his beauty and hating herself for the chance she was going to take. Her heart told her the decision was already made.

His auburn brows rose. “Did something go wrong with a tour?”

“No.” She stood and brushed her hands over her rumpled khaki slacks. A wave of fatigue swept through her. Every year, she knew the first day would be the most stressful. And every year, Will had come out of the small bedroom he used during the summer and made her some dinner in the castle’s big kitchen so she could put her feet up.

Grief mixed into her fatigue.

This year, what lay before her was probably another spat with this man standing in front of her. She’d have to fix her own supper and probably feed him, too, while she was at it. Once that was done, she’d be the one to clean the kitchen and she’d be the one stomping off to bed so she wouldn’t have to spend more time with him. She supposed she could just get on with it and have the sex, but right now she was too unsettled at what lay after that and still too angry at this man for being irresistible.

“Och,” he said. “Come on then.”

She looked up again to see his rawboned hand held out to her. “What?”

“Dinner’s waiting.” His grin turned into a simple, sweet smile. “You’re tired and need to relax. I’ve got it in hand.”

“You cooked dinner?” Amazement zipped through her, washing away the grief and fatigue. Lorne Ross, the billionaire, didn’t strike her as a man who knew his way around the kitchen. Look what he’d done this morning—leaving his dirty dishes in the sink.

“Not me.” The smile went back to a grin. “I hired a Mrs. Huntsman today.”

Mrs. Huntsman was a widow who lived on the far side of Pictloch. The woman had always been friendly with Ceri, but in a distant sort of way. What was the man talking about?

She ignored his still-outreached hand and marched down the stairs to his side. Because she was grumpy at herself for the decision she’d just made, and grumpy at him for luring her into the decision. “What are you talking about?”

“Mrs. Huntsman.” He dropped the hand to his side, and his red-gold brows furrowed. “She agreed to be our housekeeper.”

Our.

The word barreled into her soul like a rolling cask of fine whiskey. Choosing to ignore the connotations, she focused on the other word he’d said. “Housekeeper…”

“And cook.” He tugged on her elbow and pointed her toward the cottage. “She’s made a delicious Finnan Haddie for us.”

Smoked haddock. She loved smoked haddock.

He pulled her along. “Then she made a caramel shortcake for dessert right before she left. She tells me it’s called millionaire’s shortbread and she thought it appropriate for me.”

A low, male chuckle rumbled from him.

The sound shot straight into her soul like a well-aimed arrow. She’d never heard this Ross make any sound of amusement. Will had a deep laugh that always made her smile. Yet, his son had never once given her anything like that.

She glanced at him.

His eyes twinkled back at her and he still had that infernal grin on his face. The one that made her want to grab his perfect ears and pull him to her mouth.

“She said she’d make the bread extra fancy, since I’m a billionaire, not a mere millionaire.” His straight brows rose and then fell. Rose and fell again.

“Are you trying to wiggle your eyebrows to make some sort of point?” Her words were sharp, but her insides were turning buttery against her will.