Lion of Caledonia: International Billionaires VII: The Scots (14 page)

His father.

Too bad for his son, he’d finally met his match.

“Perhaps we could find some toy swords and guns online,” Jenny suggested.

He glanced at her. Maybe there was one other person who could make Rob do her bidding. She used a womanly touch instead of a male command.

Would it work?

“No.” His boy stared her way, painful disdain on his face. “Ye don’t understand, Jen. I’ve been playing with those swords and guns for years.”

A shudder of fear ran through him. What the hell would he have done if his son had hurt or killed himself with a collection of weapons he himself had gathered from all over the world? The thought made him furious at himself. Furious at Martine for doing what she had. Furious at his mother for telling him his son didn’t need him.

His son needed him to lay down the law.

Fear twisted through the growing fury. “You’ll not be touching any of them again.”

“You’re being selfish!” Rob’s eyes, so like his, turned wild. “You’re being mean and horrid. They’re as much mine as yours.”

“No, they aren’t. They never were.” Tension ate at the edges of his gut. He’d never minded confrontation before. He and Tre had had their share of smacks to get rid of pent-up stress. He’d roared at a producer a time or two. But that was different than this.

This kind of fight hurt his heart. “Rob, we’ll find a way—”

“I hate ye.” The boy jerked closer, his expression filled with the emotion. “I hate, hate, hate ye.”

“Robbie. Cam.” Jenny’s voice whispered between them, yet it couldn’t cut through the fog of past pain and the wretched battle happening now. “Let’s calm—”

“Do ye, then?” The pain in Cam’s heart expanded, blurring his mind. “Maybe it’s best I carry on with my plans for ye.”

“Wait.” She pushed herself into the middle of the fight, grabbing his arm, the mist in her gaze turning to pointed glass. “Don’t say this.”

“What plans?” Rob wouldn’t retreat, even as a flash of panic crossed his face. “Do whatever ye want to me. I don’t care.”

He shook her and her warning off, and paced down the hall and then back. The ache in his heart hardened, although he tried to quiet himself inside. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t what a father should do. Striking out at the kid was childish, and Jenny was right. Stopping, he leaned on the wall and closed his eyes. “Never mind.”

“No, no. Go ahead.” His son tore his flaming-red hat off and threw it at him. It landed right on Cam’s stomach like a punch. “Tell me. I hate ye and nothing ye can say to me will change that.”

“All right.” The hardness, the cold ache in his chest, tightened before blowing apart any consideration or reasoning. He opened his eyes and glared. “I’ll tell ye.”

“I think you both need to calm down—”

“You’re going to boarding school come fall,” he snarled at his boy. “You’re going to leave here and I’m going to sell this damn place.”

Rob’s face whitened and the wild look in his eyes went from dark to dazed.

He shut his eyes again because he didn’t want to see what he’d done. Something tore inside. Something he’d believed about himself—he didn’t hurt, he played; he didn’t damage, he created— tumbled apart into a sewer of disgust.

A small, solid punch into his stomach, this time from a child’s hand, woke him from his nightmare. He opened his eyes and met his son’s once more.

The brown and gold glittered with fire. “Do it then,” Rob challenged him. “I don’t care.”

The boy marched off, down the hallway, past a silent Jenny. The slam of his bedroom door echoed, lingering in the frozen air.

“Fucking hell.” Cam struggled to keep the tight hurt inside, yet it threatened to explode. “I’ve screwed this all up.”

She came to him. The woman he’d sometimes dreamed of—a quiet, soft caress of a woman. A woman who’d accept him for who he was and not ask him for more than he could give.

“Cameron.” Her average hands brushed across his fisted ones, then swept onto his bunched arms and shoulders, finally smoothing over his sweating neck. “You lost your temper and Robbie did, too.”

“He’s seven. I’m thirty-four.” He forced back his sudden tears. “There’s a big difference.”

Leaning into him, she gave her solid support without saying a word.

He gulped in a breath, and another. “I’ll need to talk to him.”

“Eventually.” Her arms circled his neck, pulling his taut body closer. “Perhaps you both need to simmer down first, though.”

He placed his cheek on the top of her head, letting the crisp ends of her hair tickle his skin. “I’m not going to send him to the boarding school.”

“I know.” Total, sincere belief rang in her words.

Cam swallowed more tears. “Ye do, eh?”

She huffed softly. “Of course. You wouldn’t do that. You know him too well, now.”

His hands spread out, unfurling. With a light, tentative touch, he moved them around her, grasping her, taking her in. “Ye believe that, huh?”

“Yes.” Instead of rejecting him, she snuggled closer. “Yes.”

They stood together, and he took it in. This center, this peace, this welcome when he didn’t deserve it. He’d never felt this, this acceptance. Not from his parents and certainly not from Martine. He got close with Tre, but this was with a woman. The other part. The other kind.

“Are you okay?”

He kept his eyes closed, soaking her in. “Maybe.”

She snuffled into his neck, a cross between a chuckle and a snort. “We can’t stand here the entire night.”

Cam opened his eyes and stared down the hallway to the circular window. Jenny was right. Dusk had fallen during the fight between he and Rob. “I’m hungry.”

“That’s a good sign.” With obvious reluctance, she pulled from his grasp. “Would you like to come to my room?”

Straightening, his aching heart began to thud.

“I mean.” A flustered look crossed her face, such an adorable sight he wanted to grab her all over again. “I thought perhaps Robbie would accept my invitation to dinner, too.”

“With me there?” He snorted. “I’m not thinking so.”

“We can try.” She caught his hand and tugged. “I’ll ask and see what he says.”

He knew he had to talk to his son. Right now, though, he felt bruised and guilty. He needed some more time to recover. However, Jenny was a determined little mouse when she wanted to be.

This was one of those times.

“Robbie?” Her gentle knock on the old oak door thudded. “Are you hungry?”

“No.”

Cam met her frustrated gaze with a shrug. “We men need some time to cool down.”

“I don’t need to cool down,” a young voice screeched. “I don’t need anything.”

“Well,” she said. “We’re going to go up to my room and have something to eat.”

“Who cares?”

“We’d love it if you joined us.” Patting the door as if she patted the boy, she continued. “Anytime, Robbie. Whenever you’d like.”

Her last offer was met with silence.

“So I’m still invited?” The thud of Cam’s heart escalated. He’d had dreams of that room. With Jenny in it. In the big armchair he’d picked for himself. In the simple bed he’d chosen—thinking of sleeping in peace, instead of fending off Martine’s ugly threats.

Turning, she gazed at him, the mist of her mysterious eyes lighting the grey with sparkles of light. “Yes. You’re still invited.”

* * *

T
he firelight danced
across his relaxed body like a loving embrace. Cam lounged in the armchair, a satisfied, sexy smile on his mouth. “You’re a good cook.”

“No.” Jen stood, taking the empty plates in her hands. “Mrs. Rivers is a good cook.”

A chuckle followed her to the small kitchenette. Abandoning her usual practice of being tidy, she dumped the plates into the sink. Tomorrow, she’d come back to reality. Tonight, she needed to steal this time and seal it in a bottle. A bottle of memories she’d take with her when she left.

“Not to my surprise,” he rumbled from behind her, “my boy is as stubborn as I am.”

Robbie hadn’t appeared. His father had sneaked a look or two at the door as they ate, but eventually had given up hope. Yet there was pride in his voice. A pride that made her smile. “Being stubborn is not a good thing, you know.”

“Hmm.” The sound wasn’t an agreement.

She came back to sit in the chair across from his. What she wanted to do was crawl into his lap and cuddle. And do more. But she shouldn’t be thinking of sex and skin and seduction when this man hurt.

His odd eyes hadn’t cleared even now.

In typical fashion, he’d thrown a grin or two her way. A tease once in a while. A dancing conversation that never strayed near the hurt. She could tell by those eyes, though, it still lurked.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she offered.

“It?” He gave her another defensive grin. “What
it
would ye like to discuss?”

“We could talk about Ro—”

“I know.” Folding his hands on his stomach, he narrowed his gaze. “We could talk about your family for a change.”

She focused on breathing slowly and staring at the fire. “There’s not much to tell.”

“You’re lying again. Remember, Jenny, you’re an awful liar.”

Silence fell between them, filled by the crackle of the flames and the windstorm that had intensified as they ate.

“I know so little about ye, lass,” his rich, rolling accent encircled her. “I want to know more.”

She wanted to tell him. She wanted to climb on to him and into him and give him every one of her secrets. Except they weren’t her secrets. They were her family’s, her grandfather’s, and she owed them.

More than she owed this man.

“Come on,” he murmured. “Give me something.”

He didn’t understand. She wanted to give him everything. But she couldn’t risk giving him anything that would lead him to her once she left.

“Look who’s stubborn.” He chuckled, a forced sound. “Not me this time. Not Rob.”

“I think perhaps you should go.” Jerking to a stand, she brushed her skirt down.

“Perhaps?” He didn’t move, and his voice took on her crisp accent. “Perhaps I should go? That’s not a decisive call to action.”

If she got close enough to pull him from the chair, he might very well pull her into his embrace. And she’d love that. However, he might pull more of her out than she could afford. He might use his powerful body and impossible draw to steal some of her secrets.

She forced herself to meet his sulky glower. “I think you should go.”

“Perhaps?” His lips, the mouth that called to her, quirked in a grudging tease.

He was in a wicked mood. A hurting man, a man who tried to hide the hurt, could do something sudden. Something that might hurt her.

Jen turned and walked to the one window. The clouds had descended across the moon, shifting the light off on the garden.

“I’ll tell ye a secret if ye tell me one.”

Glancing over her shoulder, she met his truculent, determined gaze. Giving him one small gift might lighten his mood. “You first.”

He gave her a hard chuckle. “Och, no. You’ve seen and experienced more of my secrets than I have yours. Ye first.”

His childish demand reminded her of Robbie. Her heart twisted for these two who loved each other even through all the mistrust. She searched her store of secrets, trying to find one that wouldn’t expose her or give too much to him. “I have a grandfather.”

“Hmm.” His low purr curled through the cozy room. “Give me more.”

“He once loved a girl very much.” She leaned on the windowsill, watching the wind whip the bare tree limbs back and forth. “He gave her a special ring.”

“Did he? A special ring. Like the kelpie and the faerie and the fair lady.”

“Yes, like that.”

“What did the girl he loved do?”

She kept her gaze on the building storm. “She left him.”

A short, sharp silence filled the room.

“Now it’s your turn.” She glanced his way, making sure he saw she was done telling her secrets.

He stared back, his odd eyes glinting. With sullen desire? With anger at her for not giving him more? With…

With…

Tears?

“My wife killed herself.”

“Cam.” She wanted to run to him, yet something kept her back. Something in the way he held himself and the way his mouth turned tight. “I’m so sorry.”

“Are ye?” He shifted in his chair as if he tried to find some comfort. “There’s no need to be. I didn’t love her.”

Her nails bit into the wood of the sill. “Why did you marry her, then?”

His laugh came, dusty and dull. “Not everyone marries for love, ye know.”

“I know.” Her cousins had married for much more than love. For status and money and power. Her mother and father had loved, though. They’d given everything for that love, but at least, they’d held it in their hearts.

“Do ye?” He shot her a stark look before staring at the fire again. “I married because of Rob.”

“She got pregnant.”

“Yes.” He grimaced, a disgusted twist of his mouth. “I was a stupid lad and, as my father said at the time, I had to pay the piper.”

Jen went back to looking at the dark night. There was something in his voice when he talked about his father that reminded her of when he’d mentioned his mother. Anger and pain and something more.