Lord of the Isles: International Billionaires VIII: The Scots (19 page)

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I
ain wanted
to move to her, take her in his arms and suck her luscious lips into his mouth. But he was afraid again. Afraid of what she’d do if he did. Afraid of what he’d feel if she kissed him back and, even worse, if she rejected him once more.

Lovely Lilly stared at him for a second, and in that one second, his heart leapt into his throat.

Then she closed her eyes in a tight squeeze.

His heart sank into his toes. “Lil—”

“We can’t.”

“Why not?” His cry came from his lust, certainly. Yet also from the small part of his heart she’d stolen before he even realized she was that close. “Why can’t we have both?”

“Because you need me to help you get better.” She looked as frustrated as he did, but her gaze was determined. “You don’t need me to jump you.”

“Get better.” The words blew him apart inside. Blew his mind into scattered remains. Blew his wretched, aching heart to pieces. Blew his hope into dust. “What do ye mean by that?”

He knew, though.

Now that he was out of the fog of alcohol, now that the
donas
had pulled him kicking and screaming from that damn fog, he’d realized he had some problems.

Problems like nightmares.

Problems like anger.

Problems like guilt.

He fisted his hands and glared at her because she was forcing him to confront this when he wasn’t ready. Would never be ready.

Would he?

“I can tell by the look on your face you know exactly what I mean.” Standing, she came to him and took one of his hands. “We’ll just take it slow.”

“Take it slow.” He mimicked her flat drawl, trying to pretend he had everything under control inside, when he didn’t.

The realization soaked into his gut like a slide of ugly scum he was all too familiar with.

Because Iain McPherson was once known for always having things under control. McPherson knew where every man was in the unit. McPherson could be trusted to keep an eye on enemy movements and know when to act. McPherson had saved the day over and over again.

Until one day, he hadn’t.

He didn’t know why it hurt so badly that Lilly knew he was a mess inside. He’d grasped that miserable fact the minute he’d come out of his coma in the London hospital to confront his actions and the results. He’d lived with it during his recovery. He’d brought back that knowledge when he’d come home to Somairie.

And he’d hid from it ever since with his whiskey.

“Hey.” She stepped right in front of him, her gaze clear and straight. “We’ll do this together.”

“We’ll do this together.” He mocked her again. He didn’t know what else to do or say.

Goddammit, he was a mess.

Before he could march far away from her and his reality, she slipped her strong arms around him and hugged. The warmth of her body against his should have made him horny as hell. Her curls brushed his chin and the softness of her hair should have made him hard as a rock. Her lemony, spicy scent tickled his nose and it should have made him want to lick her glossy skin and bite her plump lips.

But this time, Lilly and her enchantments did none of these things. This time, she came to him with her heart and her understanding. This time, she gave him what he needed at this moment.

A friend.

He shuddered, trying to stop the knot of tears threatening to lodge in his throat.

Her hand swept across his back, a gentle touch of comfort. Nestling closer, she turned her head so it tucked neatly into the crease of his neck and shoulder.

“Jesus,” he croaked. “What are ye doing to me?”

“Caring for you,” she murmured into the cotton of his T-shirt. “Being here for you.”

His hands felt like blocks of wood and his fingers tingled with nerves. Yet for some reason, he had to let his painful fists release, let his palms slip over her warmth and anchor in a clasp at the center of her back. “
Donas
,” he whispered.

She hummed at him, the sound wrapping around him in a swirl of relief. The hum went through his skin, into his muscles and blood, soaked into his bones. The hum circled his heart and entered it, filling the hole inside with solid support.

Iain shivered, trying to stuff it all away, push it all down, shove it behind him.

The clog of his tears rose in his throat.

“Let it go,” she crooned into him. “I’m right here for you.”

“I’m fine.” He tried one more time to keep himself in, to keep everything hidden from her and from himself. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Snorting, she snuggled closer, a burr in his hide, a little fairy girl who, this time, couldn’t be chased away by his pain.

The tears surged past his pride, right to his eyes. He closed them tightly, desperately.

One of her arms let him go, and for a moment, he thought he’d won. He didn’t know what. Still, he’d won the battle or the war or the fight. But for what? He didn’t know.

Then her curious fingers brushed his rough jaw and he knew he hadn’t won anything at all.

“Don’t,” he choked.

She ignored him as she often did and kept coming. Her fingers traced across his cheeks to his wet lashes. The hum came again, softer and sweeter, as if she wanted to take his pain and roll it far away. “Iain, it’s okay.”

Those fingers of hers brushed his tears from his face, letting fresh ones replace them. He sucked in a deep breath, trying to find something to distract him, yet all he had was her. In his arms, encircling him with her scent and sound and sweet succor.

He couldn’t stop it.

Not anymore.

His sob echoed in the room, a muted call of pain and parting.

“That’s it.” Her drawl followed him, the flatness of her accent somehow calming him even as he let another sob come out.

They stood in his sanctuary, the stone walls of his ancestors protecting them, the silence broken only by his release and her acceptance. They stood together, so close he thought of them as one, felt as if he’d never break from her and them. They stood until he went dry. The tears and sobs stopped, his breathing slowed, and he felt drained of everything but her.

Only Lilly.

I
ain rolled
up on the balls of his feet, his gaze latched onto the rolling waves of his sea. The castle window stood open, letting in the fresh salty air and the call of the seagulls circling above in the bright, sunny sky.

He went back on his heels, then repeated the motion.

“You’re driving me crazy.” Her drawl wrapped around him like a warm blanket. So familiar in such a short time. So right for him in some unfathomable way. “If you want to go outside, let’s go.”

“I told ye no.” Last night, after collapsing in an embarrassing heap in her arms, he’d been tired to the last inch of his body. Lilly had taken him by his trembling hand and led him into the bedroom. Before he’d been able to marshal a gentlemanly objection and shuffle to the sofa, she’d pulled off his T-shirt and jeans, tucking him under the covers like a wee lad.

Not once had he found the energy to send her a sexy look or say a sultry word. Even as she unclothed him, and even as her scent filled his nostrils as he lay his head on the pillow.

He’d been asleep in seconds.

No nightmares. No pain.

Only sleep.

“You tell me a lot of things and don’t mean half of them.” She sidled to his side, her bright curls twirling in the soft wind. “We can’t stay holed up here all day.”

“Sure we can.”

He’d awakened to her cooking for a second time. The same breakfast she’d cooked the first day she’d been here. A day that seemed a century ago. Lovely Lilly felt like a permanent part of his life. Lodged in the center of it like a fairy girl burr. His heart shuddered at the knowledge, but it had been dead for so long and he wanted it alive now.

Come what may.

“As I said after breakfast.” She waved at the window. “It’s a beautiful day. Why don’t we go into town?”

His heart shuddered again, but not with life this time. With fear. “No.”

Sighing, she tugged his hand into hers. “Come on. The villagers love you.”

That was the point. His heart might be lighter than before the
donas
arrived to save him, still, it wasn’t light enough to accept the undeserved.

Another surge of restless energy pulsed inside him, and along with it came inspiration.

“Ye want to go somewhere, then we’ll go somewhere.” He turned, yanking her in his wake. He couldn’t handle the villagers’ affections. Perhaps, though, he could handle a bit of his kingdom. Maybe he could confront a bit of his past and put it to rest.

“Where are we going?”

“The kitchen first.” Pulling her through the arch, he surveyed the dirty dishes in the sink. “Didn’t I tell ye to clean up the breakfast?”

“Yes, I believe I remember that order.” She stopped at his side and threw him an impish look. “I also remembered I cooked. So that means you’re supposed to clean.”

“Does it then. Is this some American rule ye have?” He couldn’t help himself. Although he knew they were friends and maybe he needed her more as that than as a lover, he couldn’t help himself. He came in closer, taking in the flicker of her blonde-tipped lashes, taking in the smoothness of her silky skin, taking in the aqua of her eyes.

“Iain.” Her flat voice dragged out his name in a clear warning.

He couldn’t afford to lose her. Not now. Perhaps not ever.

His heart banged like a gong in his chest at the last realization. Jerking back, he gave her a pointed glare. “Ye clean the dishes. I’m packing us a picnic.”

“A picnic?” Her face lit with delight. “That’s a great idea. I haven’t been on a picnic in years.”

Before he lost himself and grabbed her pretty face in both of his hands and took, he swung his gaze to the pantry and forced his brain to think rationally. “Get to work on those dishes. I’ll be ready to go in a few minutes.”

“Where are we going to go to have this picnic?” Her voice rose in excitement, like a small child. “The beach?”

“
A
beach.” Pacing to the storage room next to the laundry, he jerked out his old rucksack that had seen duty in multiple countries.

She bounced behind him, apparently trying to see what he was doing. “Not our beach?”

Our beach.

The words stole through him in a soft wave. He zipped open the sack, attempting to ignore the implication.

“Iain.” Her drawl filled with irritation, overlaying the excitement. “Tell me!”

“First ye need to clean those dishes, or we won’t be going anywhere.” He threw the directive over his shoulder. “Once that’s done, I might inform ye of my plans.”

She humphed, but stalked to the sink and flipped on the water. “Might. You can be so irritating.”

“Ditto.” Going to the pantry, he rustled through the offerings, picking and choosing carefully. By the time he’d raided the fridge and his locked supplies, Lilly had wiped the last dish clean.

“Ready?” He swung the heavy bag over his shoulder, the motion as familiar to him as walking. As comforting to him as a comrade’s slap on the back. He stilled at the realization, taking it into his heart and letting it be. Letting some of the pain ease out of him and into the air of his sanctuary.

She eyed him. “That thing must weigh fifty pounds with the amount of stuff you packed into it.”

“It’s always good to be prepared.”

“That’s the soldier in you, I can tell.” She made the declaration like she understood him, knew what it had cost him to become prepared for anything.

A clog of tears circled in his throat, but he’d be damned if he’d weep on her shoulders again. “Come on, we’re wasting the day.”

“Is what I’m wearing okay?”

The question was so female. So unexpected from the girl who whooped her way out of the ocean, the girl who’d stolen his clothes, the girl who hadn’t seemed to care how she looked that he laughed.

Her head shot up from inspecting her simple cotton shirt and jeans. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“Sorry.” He coughed over another chuckle. “You’re fine. Let’s go.”

“Wait. I need to get my camera.” She scuttled into the den.

Following behind her, he frowned. For some reason, he didn’t want her to have that. He wanted her focus on him and his islands and sea, not hidden behind a lens. “Ye don’t want to bring that.”

“Why not?” Slinging the case’s strap over her shoulder, she shot him a puzzled look. “I bring my camera pretty much everywhere I go.”

“It might get wet.”

“Wet?” The puzzlement fell away, replaced with a thrilled elation that reminded him of the girl who’d followed him to his back-door steps years ago. “We’re going on the water?”

“That’s the plan.” He gestured at the camera. “Better leave that behind.”

“I’ll take my chances.” She stroked the case at her hip. “I’ve taken this into a lot more dangerous places than a sail on the sea.”

Another objection didn’t jump to mind. Other than the one that would show how vulnerable he was to her, how much he needed all of her, so he shrugged and turned to the stairs. “Suit yourself.”

He felt her behind him as he marched down the stone stairs to the beach, her gait more tentative than his. By the time he’d reached the sand, she was only halfway along. “Do ye need me to hold your hand?”

She gave him a scowl.

The sun warmed his skin and the air around him seemed to open its arms and welcome him back. Her pretty face with its mutinous glare blended into the stone wall of his castle, making him think she’d been there all along, just waiting for him to come home. Waiting with her snappy words and flat drawl and warm arms.

He laughed again filled with an unexpected and incomprehensible joy.

“No more laughing at me,” she announced as she hit the sand beside him.

“Why not?” He leaned near to smile into her glowering face. “Aren’t ye the one who’s always telling me to lighten up?”

“I’ve never told you to lighten up.”

“Not in so many words, but your intent since ye arrived has been clear.” He got a touch closer, enough he could see how the center of her irises was pure green with streaks of blue blooming on the edges. “So I’m only doing what ye want me to do. Is that so bad?”

A reluctant grin edged her mouth. “I have to admit, it is nice to see a smile on that face of yours instead of the usual grouchy look.”

Before he thought it through, he kissed her cute nose with its sprinkle of amber freckles dancing across the skin like little fairy spots.

“Iain.” She drawled out another warning.

“Just a friendly kiss, lass.” He swung away before he did more and started for the shed. “Nothing to fash yourself about.”

He hoped the old canoe was still seaworthy. His da had been sick for a couple of years and likely wouldn’t have had the energy to get the thing into the sea by himself. If he’d been home, he could have…

Shaking off another bolt of guilt, he slid the shed door open and stared up.

“We’re going to take that out on the water?” Her voice came from behind him, filled with sudden doubt. “I thought maybe you’d have a boat come around from the harbor.”

“Naw. I don’t need a big boat with a motor to get where I want to go.”

“And where’s that?” She shuffled to his side, her piquant face lifted, her blonde brows furrowed. “Are you sure this canoe is going to get us there?”

“Aye.” He eyed the cedar hull. Apparently, his da had done his due diligence, even if he hadn’t been able to take the boat out. “It’s in fine shape.”

“It looks small.”

He glanced at her. Her forehead was creased with faint worry, making her appear impossibly young and impossibly desirable.

Pushing the lust away, he focused on his affection for this woman who’d come into his life at exactly the right time. “What’s this?” he teased. “Is this the spirited woman who stormed my castle to rout me out? Can that girl possibly be worried about a wee trip on the water in a boat?”

Lovely Lilly glanced at him before giving him a wary chuckle. “You promise we won’t be going far?”

You promise.

The echo of his past pulsed through him for a moment, but he pushed that away, too. He wanted this trip to wash everything away. He wanted his home back, his happy memories back, at least for a time. And somehow, he knew, his fairy girl had to be there for him to accomplish this goal. “Not far at all.”

“Okay.” She patted his arm in the irritating way of hers that made him think he was a doggy.

He shook her off. “Don’t do that.”

Her hand dropped and hurt crossed her face. “Sorry.”

“See here.” He ducked his head to her level, immediately wanting that hurt gone. “Ye can touch me anytime ye want, all right?”

“Um.” The hurt didn’t leave her face. Instead, a flush ran across her glossy cheeks, giving him a jumbled view of what she was thinking.

Confused by her, he came closer attempting to find the right words. “What I don’t appreciate is when ye touch me like I’m some injured animal who needs comforting.”

Her face cleared. “Oh. I get it. I’m only trying to help, Iain.”

Her soft voice touched something deep inside, making the restlessness leap. His lust reared its head and he couldn’t stop himself. “I don’t mind when ye touch me in other ways.”

“Don’t do that thing with your eyes.” Her own gaze narrowed and she punched him hard in one bicep.

“Och.” He danced away, rubbing his arm. “Now why’d ye do that?”

“Because whenever you do that thing with your eyes it makes me mad.”

He had no idea what she was talking about and really, he itched to get out on his sea. “Just use that strength of yours to help me get the canoe down, will ye?”

She gave him another pointed look, but obediently walked into the shed and waited for his instructions.

Within a few minutes, they’d unhitched the boat from the ceiling and tugged it to the water’s edge. Iain inspected the gunwales, thwarts, and ash wood seats with satisfaction. The craft was in grand condition. Setting the rucksack on the middle seat, he went back for the paddles and lifejackets. He came out of the shed to find her standing at the prow of the canoe, looking scared again.

“The waves are pretty big.”

“Naw, they aren’t, honestly.” He set the paddles in the boat and threw one of the jackets over her blonde head. “Now see here, Lil.”

“What?” Her worried eyes lifted to focus on his face.

“I’m a Marine.” The words trickled through him like an old friend, a hated enemy. He hadn’t claimed them for months, almost a year. Yet they were still true, even if he’d screwed everything up and done great damage. “I know my way around water.”

The muscles around her tight mouth relaxed. “I guess I didn’t think about that.”

“Think about it all the way across to my island.” He slid his own lifejacket on and tightened the harness into place.

Her eyes lit with immediate interest. “I thought Somairie was your island.”

“Somairie is my family’s. We’re going to mine.” Impatient to get on the water, something he found astonishing since he’d avoided it for so long, he pulled her close and latched her harness at her waist. The camera bag stuck out at an odd angle and for a moment, he wanted to wrench it away, but he refrained, nudging it instead. “Ye might want to store your camera under the covering in the bow.”

“No. I’ll put it right here.” She stuffed it under her lifejacket, her head swinging down, her curls brushing close to his nose.

Before he got lost in her scent, he turned to the boat and pulled the prow around so it faced his sea. “Climb in.”

A flicker of apprehension flashed in her eyes before she gingerly climbed into the canoe. “Where do I sit?”

“Up front. Here’s a paddle.” He nearly laughed when she grabbed it like it was a lightning bolt ready to electrify her. Tiptoeing toward the front of the craft, she settled into the seat facing him.

He did laugh then. “Have ye never been in a canoe?”

“No.” Her face went truculent. “I have, however, done a lot of other things you probably haven’t done.”

“Probably true.” He twirled his finger at her. “Turn around,
donas
, and face my sea.”

A light of understanding gleamed in her pretty green eyes and she lifted her legs and settled in correctly.

With one push, he had the craft out on the water and himself in the backseat. His paddle sliced into the ocean with an ease he hadn’t felt for months. The slap of the water on the hull went through him like one of his mum’s lullabies. The ones she’d crooned to him when he’d been a small boy falling asleep, secure in his family, happy in his home. The salty, fresh air filled his nostrils, reminding him of his da and his childhood adventures.