Lion of Caledonia: International Billionaires VII: The Scots (15 page)

“Martine was pretty and smart. She got what she wanted.”

“You.” A fierce sense of protectiveness surged through her.

“No. She got my money.”

Her hand tightened on the ridge of the windowsill. “I’m sure she wanted more than that from you.”

“Are ye?” Irony laced each of his words.

A sudden flash of white caught her gaze. Her eyes narrowed. The flash came again. Out on the loch.

A sail. That was a white sail.

“My God,” she whispered.

The moonlight flickered through the clouds and onto the water.

Cam’s sailboat.

One small figure on the bridge.

“Cam,” she yelled. “Robbie’s taken your boat!”

H
is heart pounded
in his aching chest and his breath caught every time he tried to breathe in. His brain buzzed in a million directions trying to find a way out of this nightmare.

“Cam,” Jenny cried from behind him, the wind whipping his name into the rain. “Wait for me.”

He couldn’t wait.

He couldn’t think.

He couldn’t breathe.

The only thing he could do was run and run. Down the endlessly long pathway toward the boathouse. Into the old shed, over the sturdy side of the longliner.

The motor chugged to life as Jenny slammed into the dank room. “I’m here. Don’t leave without me.”

“Hurry,” he barked, his dazed eyes never leaving the white patches of the sails far in the distance as he untied the ropes from the dock.

She scrambled onto the boat and ducked into the cockpit right in front of him. Cam’s shaking hands grabbed the wheel. “We can’t go as fast as the damn sailboat. What the hell am I going to do?”

Sliding into the seat beside him, she rested her hand on his arm. “We’ll get him. Don’t worry.”

He gripped the wheel until his knuckles went white and jammed the engine to full throttle. The boat shot into the loch and the hard sound of the rain suddenly pounded on the roof. “Don’t worry?” he roared. At her but more at himself. “How can I not worry when this is all my fault?”

Her hand tightened on him and gave him a spot of encouragement. Although she didn’t say anything, she was there. Beside him. A solid support.

The longliner chugged forward, fighting the building waves and the escalating storm. The fear inside threatened to overwhelm his senses. Rob could so easily flip the sailboat in this kind of weather. He could so easily slip on the wet teak planking and go right into the water.

Cam could lose him.

In the exact same way he’d lost Martine.

“Fuck,” he croaked, the horror welling and surging.

Her hand brushed across his shoulder and encircled his neck. “He’s still sailing,” she yelled into his ear. “I can see the sails.”

He tried to grab on to the hope she held out, yet inside, every part of him screamed in agony. He’d done this. He’d said the words that had driven his son to this extreme action. His attempt at being a good father had failed. All the words and warnings from his mother and Mrs. Rivers swarmed inside in his head, making him dizzy.

If he saved his son, he’d leave. Before he did more damage.

The wind howled as the rain slapped the windows in a drenching downpour. He could only imagine what Rob must be going through, trying to keep those sails in control and keeping the sailboat afloat.

He hit the power lever again, wishing he’d bought a bigger, more capable boat.

Time seemed to stand still and yet, rushed in front of him. His hopes of the last few days. The anger and pain of the last seven years. The desperate desires he’d swallowed in the past. Everything raced at him, hitting him again and again with regret and rage.

“Cam,” Jenny yelled once more. “We’re getting closer.”

They were, yet not fast enough for him. His blood froze as they drew near and he saw the main sail swinging violently in the driving wind. “I can’t see him,” he howled, his heart in this throat. “Dammit. Where is he?”

“I see him.”

Then he did, too. A small head, ducking down against the wheel. Two white hands clutching the rail. A flash of steel caught his eye. “He’s wearing a damn suit of armor.” He swung around to stare in horror at her. “If he falls off the boat, he’ll sink like a stone.”

“That won’t happen,” she shouted, but the center of her misty eyes was calm, controlled. “We’re going to get him off there.”

He let himself fall into those eyes for one brief second. He let the mist surround him, let her center him. “You’re right. We are.”

Turning back to stare at the roiling waves, he focused, piloting the boat closer and closer to the out-of-control ship sailing ahead of them. More agonizing minutes passed before they drew close.

Finally, side by side.

His boy jerked his head around, the fear on his face making it a pale mask in the raging storm.

“Jenny.” Cam grabbed her and pulled her in front of him. “Can ye take this wheel, lass, and hold it steady? Keep it straight into the wind and the motor down low.”

She paused before grasping the wheel with both hands. Glancing over her shoulder, she gave him another misty, calm look. “Go get him.”

“I will.” He snatched a quick kiss, needing more of her to take with him. A hint of her fire swept through him, giving him the courage and confidence he needed so desperately. “I’ll be right back.”

The blast of chilled rain hit him square in the face. The storm had turned into a true Scottish gale and it couldn’t have come at a worse time. Why had he chosen this particular day to install the new locks on his swords and guns?

“Rob.” He leaned on the edge of the boat, his hands cold, his heart thumping in a painful beat. “You’ll have to jump to me.”

The boom of the sailboat lurched back and forth, the tattered edges of the sail flapping in the gusts. Waves pounded on the side of both ships, sending sprays of icy water into the air between them. A wicked wind, filled with the smells of salt and fish, whipped around him. The wild rocking beneath his feet intensified. He didn’t have much time. “Come on,” he pleaded. “Come toward me.”

“I’ll not.” The boy’s fear was palpable, yet the stubborn slant of his mouth told Cam all he needed to know. He’d seen the same damn slant in his mirror whenever he’d set out to find a new story. “I hate ye.”

Frustration and rising panic pushed at his temper. “I hate ye too, right now. But that doesn’t matter.”

“I’ve got my collections on board,” the lad screeched. “I’m leaving ye before ye send me away.”

“I’ll not be sending ye away.” He planned on sending himself away, but Rob didn’t need to know that at this point.

“Ha!” His son grasped the gyrating wheel and tried to pull it and the ship leeward.

“Rob!” He tipped farther out, wishing he had a hook, something he could use to yank the ship towards him. “Look at me.”

The small white face, dark brows in a fierce frown, wide mouth tight with disbelief and fear, swung back to glare at him.

“I give ye my word.” Cam roared the words across the divide between them. “As a man.”

Even though the storm raged—the howl of the wind, the angry surge of the water, the raw, relentless pounding of the rain—a silence fell between them. He stared at his child, trying to communicate all the love and fear and agonized wonder he held inside.

“Please, Rob,” he said with his mouth more than his voice. “I love ye.”

The hatred and defiance leached out of the boy’s expression, replaced by a terror he felt himself. “Da!” he screamed over the rising wind. “I can’t leave my collections.”

What could he say to this child of his, this child he’d neglected and ignored because he’d thought it the right thing to do? What words could he use to convince this precious son the only thing that mattered was each other? “I’m begging ye. Come toward me.”

“Da.” One small hand tightened on the wheel as the sailboat lurched to one side, then the other. “My collections.”

“We’ll find more collections.” He reached one hand out, trying to grab the side of the sailboat and failing. “Together.”

A promise he couldn’t keep if he left. At this moment, though, all he could think about was getting his child, having his child in his arms. “You’ll have to jump toward me.”

“I’m scared.” Rob stared across at him, giving him the gift of truth.

“I am too, son.” He kept his gaze steady. “But we can do this.”

With a slide across the teak planking that made Cam’s heart stutter to a stop, the lad moved toward the edge.

His heart began a furious beat of joy and fear all in one. “That’s right. Closer.”

His boy grabbed the railing and gaped into the heaving waves. Somewhere along the way, he’d lost his glasses and Cam could only hope he didn’t see how dangerous this was. “Don’t look down. Look at me instead.”

Familiar eyes glanced up to meet his. Frozen horror glinted in the dark depths. “Da.”

“Trust me.” Keeping his gaze locked with his son’s, he took his other hand off the side of the longliner and reached both of them toward him. “Jump.”

* * *

A
fter all he
’d been through, Robbie appeared completely normal snuggled deep into his bed. His dark blond hair spiked into the air and his two-toned eyes gazed in drowsy, near-sighted interest at Jen.

His father paced back and forth behind them.

You’re sure you don’t need another blanket?” She sat on the bed and smoothed her hand across the quilted sailboat, remembering the shivering sight of the real one careening into the darkness of the storm, lost perhaps forever.

“I’m good.” He rubbed a hand over his chapped lips. “Just tired.”

“Ye could have died,” his father burst out, making both of them jump. “Ye could have drowned.”

She swung around to give him a look. The man was understandably upset, yet he hadn’t said anything about his fear or anger until now.

Now was not a good time.

“He’s almost asleep, Cam.” She used the same soothing tone she used when her grandfather worried about one cousin or another. “Let’s talk about this tomorrow.”

He ran his restless fingers through his hair, still damp from the storm, before prowling to the window to stare through the rain-soaked glass.

“I didn’t die, Da.” A sleepy voice came from the bed. “I didn’t.”

“Ye could have.” Swinging back to glare at both of them, he growled—a low, pained sound. “I could have lost ye.”

When he’d yanked his son into his arms out on the loch, Jen had to choke down the tears standing alone in the cockpit. She’d kept glancing back and then forward, monitoring the boat’s position, but wanting to see what happened with Cam and Robbie. She’d hit the timing exactly right, managing to see Robbie’s leap across the distance and his father’s rough grab that saved the boy from falling into the loch.

The expression on Cam’s face when he’d turned, holding his son in his arms, had made everything inside her go still for one startling moment. At that moment, her heart, so susceptible to this man and his son, fell. Fell right out of her control, right out of her chest, and jumped straight into this man’s palm and this boy’s sticky grasp.

This man and this boy had stolen her heart.

Just as she had to steal their ring.

“Ye can’t lose me.” Robbie gave his da a jaunty grin. “I’m here for good. Ye said.”

A short, sharp chuckle came from his father’s throat. “God help me, I did, didn’t I?”

“Ye did.” The boy flipped the covers to his neck and closed his eyes, a blissful expression on his face. “I’m going to go to sleep now.”

In an instinctive gesture, Jen leaned down and kissed the small forehead. A satisfied hum came from the boy.

The man behind her growled again as he paced to the door and turned.

Looking over, she encountered his gaze. His eyes flashed with a wary need before his dusky lashes hid his thoughts. “We should leave him alone,” he husked.

“Not before you say good night yourself.” Her words weren’t a push, more like a calling.

He’d held on so tight to his boy out there on the loch. His big hands grasping the small body against his chest, his head tilted to touch the wet strands of the boy’s hair. Even when he’d released the boy into her care and took the boat’s wheel, he’d done it with obvious reluctance.

But he hadn’t gone near his son since.

Jen gave him another coax. “Come on, Cam.”

“He’s asleep.”

She met the boy’s pensive stare. “No, not quite, are you, Robbie?”

“Not quite.”

His father paced back to the window, a nervous twitch in his shoulders.

She didn’t know precisely what was happening here, yet she knew intuitively, this moment was important. Important to both the man and the boy. “Cam.”

“What?” he grunted.

Squeezing Robbie’s shoulder, she stood and walked to his father. She slid a hand across one tense arm. “He needs you,” she whispered.

The line of his jaw tightened. “He has me. He knows that.”

“Does he?” She let herself touch that jaw, soothe this man. “Have you ever tucked him into bed and given him a kiss good night?”

He snorted, a sound of disgust. “He’s a boy. He doesn’t need that.”

A burst of understanding went through her. “Did your father never kiss you good night?”

“Of course not.”

Curving into him, she took in his heat and his hurt. “Didn’t you ever want him to?”

He threw her a look, his gaze narrowing. “Are ye psychoanalyzing me, Jenny?”

“No.” Her fingers rested on the side of his neck and while he might pretend to be only irritated, his pulse told a different story. “I’m asking if you can imagine what Robbie might want right now.”

“I imagine for a living.” The brown of his eyes went muddy with confusion. “I imagine all the time.”

“Then close your eyes and imagine.”

“Jenny, this is—”

“Try it.” She’d never done anything like this before. Never pushed and pulled someone into doing something they fought against. This was important, though, her heart told her so. “Come on. For me.”