Lord of the Isles: International Billionaires VIII: The Scots (18 page)

That was so untrue it almost sucked the air from his lungs. He might be depressed and damaged, yet he knew a woman’s lust when he saw it and felt it.

Lovely Lilly was lying through her pretty little teeth.

Iain swung back, so angry and furious he couldn’t remember feeling this way. Ever. As a child, he’d been a sunny, happy kid until his mum’s illness. As a teenager, he’d been a determined young man bent on fulfilling his da’s dreams. As a soldier, he’d been a disciplined, tough leader. Never, not in any of these roles, had he felt as if his head were about to explode and his body was about to flame into an uncontrollable fire. “I never want to see ye again,” he bellowed.

She edged out of the shed, her arms crossed in front of her chest, her wet T-shirt flapping in the wind. “I’ll say it again. Tough. I’m here to help you.”

Going near her was too fraught with peril. He might push her onto the shed’s wall and drive into her with a fevered need. Or he might toss her into his sea once more and this time he’d not be letting her back on his land. Even more likely, he might take her over his knee and spank her lovely, lush rump until it was red from his hand.

“Nothing to say?” She cocked her head in that provoking way of hers and gave him a grim smile. “Good. I wouldn’t want to fight with you.”

That smile did it.

That smile of hers was too much.

He advanced toward her like he was marching into war, a snarl on his face, his hands fisted with rage.

Her face whitened, her eyes went wide, and her arms trembled.

Trembled
.

Iain stopped, mid-stride.

The
donas
was afraid? Of him?

The truth rattled from his brain down his heated body like a cold, hard spike of chilled ice. Along with it came the realization he was a big, broad man and she was a dainty, delicate lass.

“Lilly,” he whispered, stunned at the fact he’d scared her. Scared his fairy girl exactly as he’d done long ago. “I’m sorry—”

“I think you should go to the castle now, McPherson.” Her words were brave and jaunty, yet there was still a wary look in her eyes. “I think you should turn around and go away.”

Her rejection, the same words he’d thrown at her over and over, came at him like a slap of a bullet. For all the time she’d been with him, he’d been the one holding this card, this rejection card. He’d been the one to push her away and yell at her that he didn’t want her around. And she’d taken it, his ugliness and
shite
and rejection, with a lovely smile, always holding out her hand in friendship.

Not many people would put up with you. But I have because I want to help.

The lust roaring in his blood went quiet as his rage simmered into silence. His brain snapped back into operation and gave him a report of his recent conduct.

He’d grabbed her.

Forced her against a wall.

Kissed her when she’d said
no
many times before.

Horror spread across his skin, making him shudder. He’d known he wasn’t what his da dreamed of for a son. He’d known throughout the years of military service that he wasn’t a real soldier who loved the work. And he’d known when he came home to Somairie he didn’t deserve the island and its bounty. But he’d never thought he’d sink this low. Into a mean animal intent on only his pleasure, never looking at the woman and realizing she was scared.

“I didn’t mean to scare ye,” he offered, his voice rusty with regret. “I’m sorry.”

Her eyes went wide and her pretty mouth gaped open. “What did you say?”

The male in him shifted, edgy about the direction they were going. He knew when he was wrong, though, and unlike other times, the person he’d harmed still stood in front of him. Still could forgive him. “I said, I’m sorry I scared ye and hurt ye.”

“Hurt me?” Her blonde brows furrowed.

“I promise I won’t do it again.” He infused every word with the last of his pitiful honor. “Ye have nothing to fear from me.”

“Iain.” Sighing, she dropped her hands. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Ye are.” The whip of the wind cut through his sweaty T-shirt, making him shiver. “I saw it.”

“Well, you can be a little bit fearsome when you’re in a temper.” She gave him a tentative smile.

He wouldn’t take the gift. He didn’t deserve it. “Ye see. Fearsome. That says everything right there.”

She cocked her head, her gaze growing shrewd. “You are a bit dramatic, aren’t you? I just realized that.”

“I’m only saying what’s true.” He turned to stare out at the calm sea. “I’m thinking ye can see why I keep telling ye to go away.”

“Can I?”

“Now that you’ve seen me behave like I did.”

“Like…” her voice trailed off, leading him on.

“Like in the shed.” He gritted his teeth at the memory. He’d been selfish, thinking of only himself and his feelings. Feelings of lust and freedom and pleasure. Never stopping to think of Lilly and what she’d told him she didn’t want.

“When you kissed me.”

“Yes,” he hissed, all his self-hate in the one word.

“And when I kissed you.”

Swinging around, he scowled. “I pushed ye onto the shed’s wall.”

Her eyes twinkled.

Twinkled
?

Shock coursed through him, making him go stiff. His arm arched out, lashing across his body in rejection. “Don’t try and brush this off,
donas
—”

“And while you were doing the pushing, I was doing the grabbing.” Her mouth curved in a wry smile. “Grabbing you and pulling you into my kiss.”

“I forced ye—”

“To grab your hair and yank you to my mouth?” Those provocative lips of hers curled, sending a surge of inappropriate lust swimming through his blood.

“
Shite
.” He narrowed his eyes before swinging away, keeping his gaze from her and her distractions.

He needed to think.

Think with his brain, not his cock. Think as he’d used to when he’d been fully functional and not a crazed beast of a man going after an unwilling woman.

When he’d joined the Royal Marines, he’d thought he’d do his duty and get out. But he and his superiors had quickly realized Iain McPherson was a very good strategist, a grand planner, an excellent thinker. He had a talent for building a team and profiling the enemy. He knew how to motivate his men and how to keep calm in a storm of disasters.

He’d been too valuable to let go.

The medals and honors had kept coming and his da had grown prouder and prouder. Every time he thought about quitting, the call of his country and his da’s pride would stop him from severing the tangled ties. After a while, he’d lost the strand of his own dreams, the dreams he’d thought to attempt after the military. After he’d done his duty. He’d lost himself in the military, lost his childish fantasies, his ideas about what kind of man he wanted to be, and finally, he’d lost his honor.

Now, he’d landed back in his benighted past only to find he’d not only lost his way and his dreams, he’d also lost his control and his brain.

She touched him, a soft float of fingers on his bare arm, and he jumped back to the present.

To Lilly.

To what he’d done.

To how he was trying to think.

“Hey.” She stood at his side, too near. “Have you stopped beating yourself up now?”

“No.” He crossed his arms in front of him, stopping himself from grabbing her again. “I’m not beating myself up, I’m just telling the truth—”

Her delicate hand slapped his arm. “Along with that dramatic flair of yours, you also have an oversized sense of responsibility, don’t you?”

He couldn’t help himself. Turning, he glared into her smiling face.

Smiling face
?

Confusion, the usual confusion he felt around the
donas
, swarmed inside, making him dizzy. And completely unable to think.

“Listen, you.” She sidled to stand in front of him and came to her toes, her pointy, pretty nose coming right to his chin. Her eyes were bright green in the light shining off the sand and Iain felt like they pierced right through his skin, right through to his soul. “That was mutual in there, in the shed.”

Lust swallowed his pride and lingering honor, but he couldn’t move because he didn’t want to scare her. More than anything, he desperately didn’t want her to go away. Even though she should. She should before he hurt and scared her once more.

As he had when they’d been kids.

As he had when he yelled at her time after time.

As he had on this beach moments ago.

Her peachy upper lip and pouty lower one curved, making his brain spin. “Not that I want to kiss you anymore, but I don’t want you walking around with a load of guilt.”

The spike of her rejection went straight through him, yet he still couldn’t bludgeon any coherent thought together to protect himself.

“You carry around enough guilt already.” Lifting her hand, she tapped his clenched jaw with her soft palm.

Her touch burned over and in and out of him. His hands fisted, barely containing the urge to yank her into his arms. Yank her into a kiss she so clearly didn’t want.

“We’ll have to work on that.” She patted him again, as if he were some placid doggy.

His brain flooded with too much of everything. Lust and fear and anger and pain. She did this every time. How could a man take this woman in and stay sane? How could a man think he’d be able to develop any kind of strategy to deal with a
donas
like her? How was he going to make her go away when he suddenly couldn’t imagine his castle and his life without this guileless spirit flitting by his side?

The awareness, the realization of his need for her, blasted into him like an IED, cutting through the pain and anger, aiming straight for his heart.

Stumbling back, his arms rose, covering his chest.

“Iain?” She came down on her feet from her tip-toes, a puzzled look on her face. “What’s wrong?”

He glanced around, a wild, scattered view of his island, his sea, and God help him, the woman he wanted to be his, too, and then he turned from it all.

“Iain?”

Her wistful voice followed him as he marched toward his sanctuary.

S
he’d followed
him back to his castle.

Why? He had no idea.

If she’d been smart, she would have run across the beach, up the moor and on toward her father’s cottage.

Iain stood in the center of his den staring into the roaring fire he’d just set. He’d set one in the kitchen too because when she’d arrived at the arch of his entrance, she’d shivered.

With cold.

Thankfully, not as a result of fear.

“I’m going to take a shower,” she’d announced before slipping into the bathroom and sliding into his fevered, lusty imagination.

Forcing the naked Lilly from his brain, he replaced it with a memory of why she was cold and shivering.

The solid feel of her in his arms.

The sight of her blonde curls bobbing in the wind when he swung her around.

The sound of her cry as she went into his sea.

Cold and shivering. All because of him.

Had he thought of that when he picked her up and slammed her against the shed’s wall? Naw.

Had he contemplated why she was soggy and wet when he ran his hands along her pretty body? Not for a second.

Had he taken a moment to think of her comfort and well-being when he’d sucked and licked her plush mouth? Not a chance.

Shame flooded inside him, and he knew if he were to stare into his cursed mirror, he’d see his skin red as a tomato.

He needed to make it up to her somehow.

Pacing over to his music, he selected the record he’d given her and put it on the player. The fragile, poignant strains of Debussy’s “Reverie” filled his sanctuary. He’d told her it was the type of music for a woman. The type of music that rolled with romance, instead of striding into the air with the deliberation of Beethoven or the precision of Mozart. The piano trilled high, patient and lilting. Making him think of his mum and how her voice would rise and lilt when she scolded him or loved him.

A clutch of grief mixed with bittersweet love filled his throat.

He’d been wrong. Debussy wasn’t about romance. It was about emotion.

He didn’t do emotion now.

Swinging away from the music, he strode into the kitchen. He needed to do more for lovely Lilly than merely play a record. He walked to the fridge and opening the door, he leaned in and stared inside. He could do steaks again, but that was a man’s food. He could make her another stovie, but he’d already done that before. He needed to make something special, something that would say
I’m sorry
and
I’m an idiot
and
don’t go away
.

Iain, my lad, and don’t ye look like ye need some comforting.

His mum’s voice whispered from the past, bringing back her love and care and the memory of what she’d always brought him when he was sick in bed.

Inspiration hit him with a slap.

He had a good piece of haddock he’d ordered. Not from his own shores and fisheries, so he didn’t have the best, yet good haddock nevertheless. Within minutes, he had the fish simmering with bay leaf in one pan. In another, he had the onion and leeks covered and stewing.

“Something smells good.”

Iain twisted around to find her smiling, not only her mouth but her eyes. How could she be so forgiving after what he’d done to her? He wasn’t worthy of forgiveness. “I’m making ye a good soup to warm ye up.”

“After that amazing shower, I’m plenty warm.” She drifted to the island and looked at the potatoes and chives he still needed to chop. “I am hungry, though. What kind of soup?”

“It’s called Cullen Skink.” He put his focus back on the pans, lifting the boiled fish from one of them to place it on a plate at the side of the stove.

“What?” She laughed.

The husky edge of the sound caused a line of sweat to pop out along his spine. He ignored himself by swinging around and attacking the potatoes.

“What kind of name is that?” She chuckled, making him think of dusky nights filled with her steamy, sensual purrs.

He whacked one potato, then another.

“Iain?”

“What?” He chanced a look at her only to curse himself inside.

She was so pretty.

Her curls went everywhere, as if she’d just ran her hand through them and let them go. Let them go right to his blood. Her complexion glowed with that internal warmth of hers, making him think of sizzling fires sprinkling heat across naked skin. Her eyes were clear and bright, looking at him with the infernal friendliness he desperately needed and feared, too.

She cocked her head. “What?”

Her mouth formed the one word and jerked his attention to her lips. He hadn’t had time to nibble on her provocative upper lip or suck on the lower one. Lust had made him wild and rough, impatient to take instead of allowing himself to linger. “
Shite
.”

Her blonde brows arched. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking I need to concentrate on the food.” He tore his gaze from those female lips and glared at the potatoes. “You’re too distracting.”

“Really?” her voice rose in surprise.

How could the
donas
be surprised? Now that he thought about it, she must have men in every corner of the universe, waiting for her to descend in another visit. The thought zipped through him, leaving a heated, messy slice of jealousy seething behind. “Don’t play games,” he grumbled, mad at himself for thinking the thought and mad at her for bringing it on.

Which wasn’t fair.

He had never been fair to her.

“I’m not playing—”

The hurt in her voice made him groan.

“Listen.” As a gift, he grudgingly glanced at her again. Confronted her pretty little face with the hurt written all over it. “I’m really trying here.”

“Trying what?” She folded her arms in front of her, but at least she wasn’t trembling this time.

“Trying to be your friend.” He kept his gaze on hers although it hurt something inside of him to do it.

Shock ran across her face before she frowned. “Iain. You don’t have to try. You already are.”

* * *

T
hose sky
-blue eyes of his went wide and then dark.

Lilly had learned through her travels to read people. The skill had started when she’d spent twelve months in a small Japanese town during her senior year of high school. Thinking the whole Rotary scholarship thing would be a lark, she’d found herself in a circle of people who rarely spoke English and seldom saw tall, blonde women strolling down a street.

She’d been an oddity.

She’d also been lost.

Still, she’d found herself eventually. Found out how to ask questions using her hands and expressions. Found out how to apply herself and learn a new skill. Found out how to survive and flourish wherever she landed. By the time she actually spoke fluent Japanese and read it, too, she’d developed another far more important ability.

How to read people.

Which was why it was so frustrating to be standing in front of this man—a man who’d become vitally important to her in such a short amount of time—and not have a clue what he was thinking.

“What are you thinking now?”

“I’m thinking…” Clear confusion swirled in his eyes and his mouth pursed again in that way of his. Before she could zero in further, he scooped the chopped potatoes off the cutting board and twirled around to face the stove.

Maybe she shouldn’t be so hard on herself. Perhaps she couldn’t read him because he couldn’t even read himself. Figuring she’d leave all the confusion behind for now, she latched on to a change of subject. “Let me help with something.”

He grumbled and muttered, but she effectively inserted herself into the dinner preparations. By the time they both sat down at the table, his eyes had lightened and his mouth was relaxed.

“This is amazing.” She hummed after taking the first sip of her soup.

“Have some warm bread with it.” Nudging the plate of rolls her way, he gave her a small smile. “They’re called baps.”

“Baps.” She chuckled. “Cullen Skink. You Scots have an interesting way of naming your food.”

He made a low rumble in his throat, yet his eyes stayed bright when she met them with her own. He’d mellowed, much to her relief. Now she could edge the conversation into some important topics. Topics that didn’t have anything to do with their relationship and everything to do with getting him into counseling. She just had to be a tad sneaky about it.

“Tell me more about this place.” She waved her hand.

“I told ye before.” Ripping the bread apart, he spread a stroke of warm butter on the slice. “When I was a kid, this tower is where I played.”

“So when you came back,” she nudged him along, “you decided to live here because it was comfortable and familiar.”

He snorted and his beautiful eyes started to dance. “Hardly comfortable.”

The dance of the blue in his gaze—one moment sky, the next moment sea—made Lilly dizzy. “What do you mean?” she managed to croak through the daze.

“The tower was my da’s dumping ground.” Stuffing the bread into his mouth, he chewed.

“Dumping ground for what?”

He swallowed and the bob of his Adam’s apple in the white perfection of his neck drew her attention. “Your so-called treasures. The ones ye want to steal away to America with.”

“My stepfather wouldn’t steal.” Tearing her gaze from his beauty—when the heck had she thought a man’s neck was beautiful ever before?—she pretended to be offended. “He’d pay good money for any of those pieces.”

“I don’t need money.” His spoon clattered in his empty bowl. “I’ve got all the money I’ll ever need.”

There was something in his voice, something that made her want to weep for him, but she couldn’t nail down what it was.

He frustrated her in so many ways.

His big body and brawny muscles made her body weak with frustration.

His stubborn denial of help made her brain muddled with distress.

And his past, the past he let go in such small increments she wanted to scream, made her more mystified every time he dropped a story in front of her. Iain McPherson was one big jigsaw puzzle and she still didn’t have all the pieces to put him back together again.

“You’ve gone quiet,
donas
.” His voice went thick with sudden distrust. “Counting that money of mine?”

She whipped her head up to stare at him. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

Easing back in his chair, he sliced a nasty glance her way. “When a man talks about his money, women tend to be interested. Especially if he has a lot of it. Which I do.”

“We’ve covered this before, haven’t we? The dungeon and the supposed gold.”

“I might not have a dungeon filled with gold,” he said, his words heavy with scorn. “But I have enough gold in other places to draw any woman’s attention.”

“Is that so.” She dropped her spoon in the cooling soup, no longer hungry. “I suppose that convoluted brain of yours has decided this is why I showed up at your doorstep.”

“Something a man needs to think about.”

Her placid temper burbled to life. A hot, heated surge. “And that’s why I cleaned this place and washed all your clothes, too.”

“To ingratiate yourself.” He eyed her with a wicked look before raising his arms above his head in a long, lazy stretch. As if he couldn’t be bothered to care if she were a money-hungry parasite.

In a flash, her temper went cool.

More armor. More camouflage.

A diversion.

Why? What had been said here that made him run for cover and decide to rile her so she wouldn’t see this for what it was? What could he be hiding behind his slur and his body?

Her frustration and hurt bubbled over.

More than this man could play a game, her frustration argued. More than one person here could mess with the other person’s head, her hurt growled.

Leaning across the table, she shot him a siren smile. One she’d learned when she’d spent a giggling, fun-filled night with a bunch of Greek college students in a small town on the island of Ios. “And just think, Iain McPherson. I kissed you, too. Several times.”

A flare of surprise lit his eyes and he dropped his hands in his lap. “Aye, ye did, didn’t ye?”

“All to lure you in,” she husked, letting her voice go deep. “All to get that fabulous money and treasure you have.”

He stood with a jerk and before she stopped herself, her gaze went straight to his groin. He was hard and big. A flush of heated desire rushed through her and she realized what she’d been doing. Playing. Playing with a fire she couldn’t control, and he couldn’t, either.

“
Donas
.” His voice was hoarse with need. “Come here.”

“No, no, no.” Fisting her hands in her lap, she pulled her gaze to his face. “Do you really believe I would do such a thing, Iain?”

He stared at her, his mouth slanted in that sultry way of his. Yet his eyes weren’t at half-mast. His sky-blue eyes were wide open and fixed on her face.

The silence grew between them.

“No,” he finally said. “No, Lilly. I know ye are my friend.”

She let out her breath in a sigh of relief.

“I also know, I want ye to be my lover, too.”