Lord of the Isles: International Billionaires VIII: The Scots (28 page)

He needed to find himself before she shocked him with the news about the baby.

She needed to make her own place, be steady and strong on her own, before she let him back into their baby’s life.

Ignoring the lancing pain inside her chest, she put on a smile. “I’ll keep in touch.”

The library door thudded shut behind her.

“What did he say?” Her half-sister, Taylor, almost eighteen, stood on one foot, balancing on one leg, twining her other one around it. She always did that when she was scared.

“Was he mad?” Ashley, nearly sixteen, peered at her, her blue eyes wide.

“He said what I thought he’d say.” Lilly strode to her sisters and grabbed both of them in her arms. Although Taylor was four inches taller than her, she still nestled her dark head into her older sister’s shoulder like she’d done when she was small.

Ashley sniffed into her neck. “I hate it when Father is mad.”

“He won’t be for long.”

“He won’t?” Taylor’s head popped up, her eyes wide too. “Why not?”

“I’m leaving.” She ruffled her youngest sister’s blonde hair.

“Oh, no. Not yet.”

“You’ve only been here for a week.”

Taking their hands in hers, she walked them down the hallway. Past the dining room with its fancy glass chandelier, past the living room where their parents had their social gatherings every month, past the foyer with its stained-glass windows. They ended in the one room Samuel and Sandra never entered.

The kitchen.

The housekeeper had the day off since it was Sunday. Unlike the rest of the house, the kitchen was fairly simple. Clean, bright, homey.

“Are you guys hungry?” Lilly walked to the refrigerator and opened the door.

The nausea had subsided during this last week she’d been in New York, thank goodness. That was normal, her doctor had told her when she’d visited two days ago. At two months along, she should be feeling better.

Physically, she was feeling better. Emotionally, she was still shaky.

Yet, as she’d talked to the doctor, she’d realized something important.

She could do this. Be a mom. She could be a really great mother.

“Milk and cookies!” Ashley crowed, showing she wasn’t always the perfect, grown-up lady her father expected.

“I suppose Mother would want us to eat a salad.” Taylor slung herself onto one of the high, caned stools and moped.

Lilly opened the freezer. “I’m thinking ice cream.”

Both her sisters laughed, and she turned to grin at them. She might not have ever fit in here, but she had found love every time she came in the door. From her sisters.

The first people she’d told about the baby.

Pulling out the round, white containers filled with chocolate-chunk and butter pecan, she got to work on the comfort food. Her sisters laughed and teased each other while they waited, easing her tension and her sorrow for what could never be with her mom and her stepfather.

“Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?” Ashley slurped on the gooey mix of chocolate ice cream and marshmallow topping.

“I don’t care.” Though she wouldn’t mind a little boy with Iain’s blue eyes and sweet soul.

“I’d want a girl so I could dress her up.” Taylor, the fashion queen of the household, smirked.

“She wouldn’t want to wear whatever you told her to.” Her younger sister frowned. “After all, she’s going to be Lilly’s kid.”

“And Lilly never wore what Mom wanted her to, did she?” Taylor giggled.

She didn’t mind the teasing. She might have been the sunshine kid, yet she’d also always been the odd one out. If she thought about it long enough, she supposed that role had been the reason she’d never felt a part of a place until she’d found Iain.

But that had been wrong for her, too. Or wrong for him, really. So she and her baby would have to find a new place, and she was well on her way to doing that. She giggled with her sisters and then told them of her plans and made sure they were okay before they dashed off to do their mounds of homework. After washing the dishes, she ran up the stairs and went into the bedroom she’d had since she was nine.

There was nothing in the room that would indicate she’d ever lived here.

The pink coverlet she’d picked out on the day Samuel had proposed to her mom had long ago been given to charity. The fancy striped wallpaper her mother had chosen and Lilly had never liked had been replaced with cream paint. Her dolls and toys had been packed away or given to her sisters.

She sat down on the bed and opened her laptop.

For Sale: Photographer studio

Geneva, New York.

As soon as she’d landed, back from Australia, she’d started searching for somewhere that would be good to raise a kid, but would also be in need of her skills. She didn’t want to be in New York City—the place was too expensive and too near her mother and stepfather. Still, she wanted to be close enough to her sisters and near enough to the city she could occasionally pick up some gigs.

The photo studio looked exactly right. Quaint and pretty and solid.

There was a nice, two-bedroom apartment right above the shop. Plenty of room for a new mom and a new baby.

She’d been traveling for years and had never been much of a shopper or a collector. There was enough money saved in her bank account to buy this place and provide a cushion for her and the baby for the foreseeable future. Tomorrow, she was going to make an offer and tomorrow, she was also going to part ways with her new, fancy agent.

It surprised her how sure she was. Sure about leaving a profession of traveling the world and instead, settling down into a small town. Sure about the decisions she was making. Sure she was supposed to do this.

But she was. Sure.

Pressing her hand on her stomach, she closed her eyes.

She missed him. So much.

A single tear dripped down her cheek, but she sniffed the rest away. She’d had two months to come to semi-peace with reality. Iain needed to be free to find himself and he didn’t need more responsibility.

Iain needed time.

Lilly opened her eyes. She wasn’t going to keep the baby from him forever, or even for long. She hadn’t talked to her dad since she’d come back, but she’d call him soon and find out the news. And when her dad let her know the McPherson was well and back to his prime, then she’d write a nice email and explain where she was, all about the baby, and lay out her conditions.

He would want to know his child and he had a right.

She wanted her child to know his father just as she had. There was something bittersweet about the fact her child would be making yearly journeys back to Scotland to be with Iain. Exactly as she had. And she’d done fine. She’d be fine.

Her and her baby.

“
I
f it ain’t
Miss Lilly Graham come home to see her da again, eh?” Angus Hume threw her a grin as he sidled his boat by the dock.

“Hi, Mr. Hume. Thanks for coming to get me.” She slid her backpack on a seat in the Orkney longboat before carefully easing herself over the gunwale. “How are things going?”

“Ah, lass, everything is going braw.” The old sailor eyed her, making sure she was solid on her feet. And then he turned the wheel, heading out of the Oban harbor.

She frowned at the dismal looking sky and the sullen sea. She’d only been to Scotland once in December. But that had been when she was still a kid and her father had lived in Inverness. The Hebrides didn’t look very inviting, the gray clouds above her threatening sleet, the waves surrounding the dock and boat promising a choppy ride.

“Braw?” Could her dad have been all wrong when she talked to him last week when he’d finally convinced her to come over for New Year’s? Could things have grown worse?

Was Iain alright?

Mr. Hume grinned. “Grand, lass. Excellent stuff has been happening on Somairie.”

Slouching on a padded seat, she gave him back the smile. She should be happy about the news. And she was. Yet something in the pit of her stomach hurt as if her baby had been punched. “Really?”

“You’ll see yourself soon enough.” He whistled, a jovial tune that competed with the wash of the waves along the sides of the boat.

Settling in, she wrapped her arms around her belly and sighed. At four and a half months pregnant and counting, she didn’t have a big bump, but if she wore anything tight, it was evident.

She’d packed a lot of loose clothing.

They went past the bend of the land and the wind whipped into her face, bringing with it a swish of cold moisture.

It had been stupid to come here now. She knew that. There were a hundred and one things she could be doing back at the photo studio. She’d settled in well so far into the town and its people. But the small apartment above the shop needed work before the baby arrived. She could have easily spent this next few days looking for furniture, or setting up a new collage of photos she’d taken over the Christmas holiday.

Instead, she was here.

Very near the McPherson. Very near danger.

But she hadn’t been given a choice.

“I’m thinking your da will have some surprises for ye,” Mr. Hume yelled over his shoulder. Then he turned and gave her a wink.

She frowned again. Surprises? Before this new life of hers, she’d loved surprises. Babies called for planning, though. Babies called for certainty. Her baby had changed her already, even before its birth.

Before, she would have never wanted a small-town life. Now, she yearned for the feeling of being surrounded by people who knew her well. Before, she would have casually glanced at her bank account balance. Now, she counted her pennies and had spreadsheets with projections. Before, she would have felt tied down. Now, she spent her evenings knitting little knots of love for her child.

The old sailor smiled at her again, his eyes twinkling. “Time to see the new Fingal.”

She followed the wave of his gnarled hand and gasped.

The town still clung to the island like a lover, yet not with need. Instead, the town spilled light and warmth into the harbor, signaling her bold determination to hold the land in her grasp.

Lilly stood to take in the changes. “Wow,” she yelled at Mr. Hume.

The old man laughed in delight. “Ye see? What did I tell ye?”

Even in the dead of winter, the dock exploded with life. Dozens of boats bobbed in the sea, and a crowd of revelers stood along the pier, laughing and singing. They drew closer and she saw that every storefront was filled and open to the crowds of tourists.

“Busy!” she exclaimed. “Tourists at this time of the year?”

“We’ve got plans for Hogmanay,” he replied while he navigated between a large ferry brimming with waving visitors and what looked like a millionaire’s yacht. “Well, actually the McPherson has plans.”

Hogmanay. The Scottish celebration of New Year’s Eve. Tomorrow.

Iain had plans?

A sharp shot of sadness bolted through her. Yes, of course, the McPherson had plans. Plans she had nothing to do with. Plans she didn’t want to have anything to do with any longer.

Why? Why had she done this to herself?

The Orkney bumped against the wooden dock and a young, eager lad bounced their way to grab the rope Mr. Hume slung over the side.

“Your da will have arrived in town to pick ye up.” The old sailor took her hand as if he had an inkling of her true condition. She narrowed her eyes at him, but all he did was give her another grin. “Up ye go,” he encouraged.

“I’m going to walk to the cottage,” she announced as soon as she landed on the dock.

“Och, no,” he said. “There’s your dad now.”

“Lilly.” Edward Graham’s call came from the beginning of the dock and she turned to meet another beaming grin and the reason she’d done this to herself.

What the heck was going on here? She’d been clear she’d walk to the cottage like she usually did. The weather wasn’t the best. Yet she could easily stroll along some wet pavement and muddy paths. Did her dad know her condition?

Dammit.

She’d even quizzed her mom the night she’d stayed at the mansion before boarding her plane for Scotland. Sandra had sniffed and told her that sharing the news her oldest daughter was pregnant and not married wasn’t something she’d be glad to talk about with any of her friends or acquaintances. And no, she hadn’t talked to Edward. Why should she? The news was Lilly’s to share.

Her dad didn’t know. He couldn’t know.

Or else Iain would know.

She couldn’t let that happen. Not until she was safe and solid enough to fight against his overinflated sense of responsibility. Why had she done this to herself? If her dad caught even a whiff of her new reality, she’d be in the middle of a kingdom where His Majesty ruled. In the middle of a whole heap of trouble.

But her dad had insisted. Insisted he needed her to come right away. Edward Graham didn’t insist on anything and the change had shocked her.

“Dad, I can’t come during Christmas. I’ve booked myself solid,” she’d explained.

“Then come right after.” Her dad’s voice had sounded crackly, the connection weak. But the strength of his need flowed through the phone. “Right after, Lil.”

“I don’t understand.” She’d palmed her tummy as she cradled her cell to her ear. “What’s going on?”

“Just come. Promise.”

Did he have some weird father antenna that had caught on to her new reality?

“Ye can easily take a week here with me,” he continued, allaying her fears. “Ye travel all the time.”

She’d planned on telling him about the baby, but not until she was fully ensconced into her new life. Not until she knew she was safe from any McPherson demands. She knew her dad well enough to know that once he’d heard about the baby, everyone on Somairie would know.

Including the baby’s father.

“Dad—”

“I know, I know,” his voice lowered. “You’ve made a new life in New York. I have all your emails.”

“Right.” She’d figured she might as well ease into how much her life had changed by letting her dad know a few things here and there. “And now is not a good time to travel.”

“I need ye, Lilly.” His words had been tense with emotion. “Right now.”

“Are you sick?” Fear had surged inside her.

“Sick for the sight of ye.” Her dad coughed before continuing. “And ye owe me, lass. Ye left early again in August.”

Good grief. Her dad had never been like this. Maybe he was actually sick and needed her. Plus, the ever-present guilt for leaving him once more had bubbled inside until she’d finally agreed to the trip. She hadn’t wanted to come. Hadn’t wanted to deal with the thoughts of Iain that surely would arrive as soon as she arrived in his kingdom.

Yet she hadn’t been given any real choice.

Her dad had insisted.

“You’re here.” He rushed to her now, his arms reaching for her. “Finally.”

“Um. Hi, Dad.” Stiffening, she held herself taut, sliding to the side and giving him a half hug. The baby bulge wasn’t big, but she didn’t want to take the chance of him noticing.

“Can’t hug your dad?” He peered at her, hurt crossing his face.

Confusion grew inside her. Because her dad wasn’t one to publicly embrace a person on a dock filled with a crowd. Her dad tended toward a Scottish reserve. Wrapping her gloved hand around his neck, she kissed his cheek. “Just a bit surprised you’d want to hug in public.”

Hurt eased off his face replaced by a beaming smile. His brown eyes filled with warmth and affection. He didn’t appear sick at all, rather he looked in perfect health. His brown eyes also held another emotion. Determination.

A slinky, slithering unease strung through her. “Dad. What’s going on?”

He kissed her on the nose and then gave her another smile. “Everything, Lil.”

Everything?

* * *

S
he’d arrived
.

On his island, in his kingdom.

Right where he wanted her. Right at her da’s cottage, Edward Graham had reported not fifteen minutes ago by phone.

Iain stared out at the inner court from the open doors of his castle. A crowd of workers swarmed around the various craft stalls, setting up displays of handmade soap, sterling silver jewelry, wood carvings, and pottery. Interspersed between them were the food vendors—strawberry jams and chocolates, venison pies, and roasted chestnuts. He’d made sure to invite some of the best artisans from all his islands, along with a healthy dose of mainlanders ready to hawk their wares.

He needed this to be exactly right.

For her.

“My lord.” Mrs. Butler rushed to his side, her face flushed with excitement. He’d appointed her as the final arbiter of the food stalls and she’d taken to the task as if born to it.

“Iain,” he said for the thousandth time.

“Iain.” Her flush turned bright red. “We’ll have everything ready by tomorrow at noon, just as ye wanted.”

“Good.” He patted her rounded shoulder before pacing through the crowd and onto the stone bridge where the torchlight parade would march tomorrow night. He’d planned it all, down to the timing of the parade, the hours of the fair in his court, the midnight feast in his fully restored great hall.

Where he planned on putting his heart, his soul, his island kingdom on the line.

At midnight.

A new year. A new beginning.

With Lilly at his side, forever.

“Iain, my lad.” Angus Hume raced up, his forehead shiny with sweat, even though the weather was cool and crisp. “I’ve got the
ceilidh
list all set and we’re putting the final touches on the stage at the end of the village.”

“Excellent.” He’d figured picking the island’s best storyteller to choose who would be singing and dancing and telling tales tomorrow afternoon was the best thing to do. Hume had puffed his chest out at the news of his appointment and hadn’t stood still for a moment since. “I’ll leave it in your hands then.”

“Ye won’t be sorry.” The old sailor winked before running towards town.

By now, she would have seen the changes in Fingal. Her da would have been sure to point out the newly painted storefronts all leased during the past four months. Edward would have made sure to drive by the restored B&B before taking the long way back to the cottage so she would see the construction being done on the creamery.

Without words, she would see things had changed.

He had changed.

A sharp thrill of excitement mixed with fear shot through him. Ever since he’d discovered the offer she’d been talking about in August hadn’t been from a man, but rather about her work, he’d been intent on making this happen.

Showing her his offer was better.

Better in every way.

He’d wrestled with that contention as he’d placed himself in the live-in facility right outside of London. There’d still been doubt and shame and a whole host of other emotions he’d had to deal with before he could ever hope for a life with Lilly. Even after being released six weeks later with the approval of his doctor, and after going across to Glasgow for group treatment twice a week ever since, he’d struggled with the belief he could be good for her, right for her.

Not until he’d stood on her da’s doorstep, heart beating so fast he thought he might faint, not until he’d had his chat with Edward Graham, had he believed.

He could be good for Lilly.

The Lilly that had apparently left her life of fun and frolic and settled down in a small town in upper-state New York.

The news had shocked him.

And inspired him.

Because of all the things he’d wrestled with the most, it had been the concern his offer would pin his
donas
down when she only wanted to be free. He’d even thought about offering to go with her on her travels, be her companion and lover and go wherever she dreamed of next.

But he couldn’t.

He knew that deep inside. He belonged here on Somairie. Where he’d been born and where he’d die. Where he’d live his life in the pursuit of making his islands the best kingdom he could create and where he’d spend his days making sure his people were happy and content.