Lord of the Isles: International Billionaires VIII: The Scots (32 page)

“Ye need a tall, dark-haired male walking through your front door as the first person in the New Year.” Iain eyed her, his lips quirking. “I guess I fit the bill.”

“You sure do.”

“My lord,” Angus stepped in once more. “You’ll need to put the lass down before ye enter.”

“Iain.” The correction came with a snap.

“Right. Iain. Ye better put her down before ye cross into the castle.” The old man’s apparent concern deepened and the correction on a name didn’t stop his dogged determination. “She’s blonde, after all.”

“Blonde is bad?” Lilly slid into the conversation, amusement bubbling at how seriously the old sailor was taking this.

“If ye lived in the times of the Vikings, then aye, blond people arriving at your doorstep wasn’t a good thing.” He smiled at her, his eyes alight with humor. “But you’re not a threat.”

She laughed. “No, not in the slightest.”

Leaning in, he nuzzled into her ear again. “Except to my heart. We still have to resolve that.”

She ran her hand across his short hair, missing the curls, yet finding his hair was as soft to the touch as she remembered. “We’ll talk later.”

He reared his head back, his eyes now twinkling. “Talk later, she says?”

“Later.” Glancing around, she noted the swirl of the tourists, the smiles of the villagers. Usually, she didn’t mind a crowd, but this was too important and her heart too tender.

She wanted to be private.

She wanted to look at his face when he wasn’t distracted by his duties or his people and know for sure.

“I’m thinking not.” He rearranged her in his grasp before climbing up the stairs leading to the front door.

“Ye should let her down,” Mr. Hume suggested once more, his brow furrowed.

The McPherson swung his gaze to the man, his own straight brows frowning. “We’re going to combine the old tradition with a new one.”

The crowd circled them, laughing and cheering. Her dad came up and patted her on the cheek before Mrs. Ciste barreled into the fray and said she’d always known this would happen.

Iain stared at her, the light of the castle spilling over him, gilding him with warmth. “Are ye ready, Lilly Graham?”

“I am if you are, McPherson.” She tightened her grip on his neck.

With an exaggerated stomp, he stepped across the threshold of the castle to wild cheers.

He kept going.

She’d been all for making new traditions, except by the determined line of his jaw, he wasn’t stopping there. “I think we should—”

“Where are your gifts for the household, my lord?” Mrs. Butler said with a smile as she stood in the foyer. “Shouldn’t ye have silver coins or bannock or fine whiskey?”

“This is my gift.” He looked at Lilly again, a hunger in his expression. “At least I’m hoping.”

“Iain,” she clung to him, “we can talk about this later.”

“Naw. Not this.” He marched down the hall, the crowds parting as he passed. “We’re going to jump this hurdle together and we’re going to do it now.”

He went straight back to the center of the great hall, right in front of the fireplace. Lilly knew what was going to happen and everything inside her raced about, confusion and excitement dancing a crazy jig in her stomach. Near their baby.

“Iain,” she whispered in his ear. “I don’t know—”

Dropping her on her feet, he stared at her with almost a glare. “Ye do know. Ye told me outside.”

“Maybe we could go upstairs—”

“Ye said ye loved me.”

“I do.” The turmoil inside went wild because she saw the resolve in his expression. “But—”

“No buts.” He looked at the crowd circling them. “Ye have to know if ye say yes to me,
donas
, then ye say yes to all of this.”

She stared at the people surrounding them—at her beaming dad, at the smiling villagers, at the curious tourists—and she finally understood why he insisted on doing this publicly.

He was the Lord of the Isles.

He’d always be partially owned and responsible for his island and his people. He wouldn’t be able to take off at a moment’s notice like she had during the last ten years. She knew her McPherson. He’d accepted his role now and he wanted her to understand what that meant.

What role she’d be accepting if she accepted him.

His gaze never left hers as he kneeled once more in front of her. She saw the stark fear in the blue and the realization he was putting himself, everything, on the line for her made her last qualm disappear.

He loved her.

Before the baby.

He’d planned, not trying to keep her out, but because he hadn’t been sure of her love and acceptance of him. Her emotions grew and grew inside her, making her feel like a whole garden of lust and friendship and love filled her to the brim.

“Well, Lilly Graham.” He pulled the purple ring box from his suit coat one more time. “Here we are again.”

He opened the box.

The ring was a deep blue-green emerald set in a simple, elegant gold setting.

“Like I said outside, it’s new,” he muttered, his skin flushing. “I didn’t want ye to have anything from the family estate.”

“No?”

“You’ll own all of it anyway, if ye say yes.” He took a peek at her, before going back to fixing his focus on somewhere past her shoulder.

“I don’t want the McPherson jewelry. It’s never been what has interested me about you.”

“I know.” His gaze met hers. “This is why I went to London and found this.”

Lilly looked at the ring. It was beautiful in its complete simplicity. What was the meaning behind it, though? She really wanted to know before she accepted him. She had the feeling she’d never pry out of him the significance of this at any other time. “Why this one?”

His mouth went wry. “You’re going to demand everything, aren’t ye?”

“Aye,” she teased him with his own word.

The crowd rustled around them, a murmur of worry and concern whispering through the circle of people. Iain didn’t pay any attention, keeping his intent focus on her. “Your eyes,” he said low. “Exactly like your eyes.”

“And that means…”

“And that means if ye take this ring, Lil, I get to stare into your eyes for the rest of my life.” He rushed the words as if he had no control of them. “The newness means we get to start this fresh. Start our life on these islands with a new bright outlook.”

“Iain.” She covered her mouth with shaking hands, fighting the happy tears.

“I can’t do this without ye.” Thrusting the box forward, his gaze suddenly turned bleak. “I’ll do my duty, but the love for it will be gone.”

“I wouldn’t want that.” She put him out of his misery and plucked the box out of his hands. “After all, you need my help on a consistent basis, McPherson.”

“I do, don’t I?” The blue of his eyes went bright. “You’re going to take me on then?”

“Oh, yes.” She slipped the ring from the box and gave him a teasing look as she held it out to him. “Just try and stop me.”

With a loud whoop, he straightened and swooped her into his arms. The crowd roared its approval around them, the sound rising to the stone ceiling and echoing off the ancient walls.

And all the ghosts of the past smiled. And all the future lasses and laddies of Somairie applauded in heaven.

And everything was as it should be.

“
M
ummy
.” A childish whine followed the call, piercing the Scottish summer air.

“What, Maggie?” Lilly opened her eyes to the cloudless sky, wishing she could have nodded off for a few more minutes before her oldest demanded attention.

“She’s done it again.”

She
being Marie. Maggie’s younger sister could be as determined and frustrating as her father.

“What has she done?” With a sigh, she straightened from the tartan blanket she’d laid out under the rose trellis. Glancing over, she made sure the sun hadn’t hit the baby, before zeroing in on the pouting eight-year-old standing in front of her. “What?”

“I wanted to pick the best roses for Da’s birthday, but she plucked all the petals off of every one of them.” A stomp of a little bare foot emphasized the last word.

Reaching out, she grabbed her oldest and pulled her into her arms. “Do you know how many roses there are in this garden?”

They’d been married here, in this small, intimate garden Malcolm McPherson had designed for his wife. As promised, Iain had shown Lilly right after the New Year and they’d both planned and designed the needed renovation for their early spring wedding. Now, in late summer, the garden was a circle of trellises spilling over with roses that had grown through the years of their marriage: blush pink, rosy red, brilliant yellow.

“But I had picked the best ones,” Maggie grumbled.

“Mum!” Five-year-old Marie raced to the tartan blanket, barren stems clutched in her fists. “There are thorns all over these.”

“Not as bad as the thistles,” her older sister countered.

The rose garden was guarded by a sturdy line of bushes sprouting thistles. The combination often reminded Lilly of her husband when she’d met him. All bristly defiance on the outside, all tender love on the inside.

“Here, let me take them.” She relieved her daughter of the dangerous stems, placing them far from baby Molly, who had peacefully dozed through her sisters’ commotion.

“When will Da be back with Donny?” Maggie nestled in her arms, her blonde curls brushing against Lilly’s neck.

“Soon, I’d think.” She swept her hand across her daughter’s hair. “They were only going over to Bha Innis for a couple of hours to fish.”

“I don’t know why I couldn’t go.” A whine tinged the girl’s words again.

“But ye got to stay and play with me, Mags.” Marie danced around the tartan, her face alight with her usual sunny smile.

Her older sister snorted.

“Sometimes men need time with each other.” Lilly plucked a red petal out of Marie’s hair.

The little girl gave her a lopsided smile, her sky-blue eyes glimmering with mischief, her dark, messy curls fluttering in the soft wind.

Lilly’s fingers immediately twitched in their familiar way. Shifting her oldest daughter off her lap and onto the tartan, she scrambled for her camera. “Don’t move, Marie.”

“Oh, mum.” The little girl moaned. “Not another picture.”

“Yes, another picture.” She aimed the lens on her daughter. “Go ahead and give me another smile.”

When she’d given birth to Maggie and then, Donny, she’d been content to be a mum and a wife for a while. During the last few years, though, her passion for photography had swung back in her life. Iain had been a stout proponent of not ignoring her talent. With his encouragement, she’d opened her studio in Fingal last summer. Her photos of the Hebrides islands and their people were fast becoming popular internationally. But her favorite subjects were always her kids.

Marie stared at the camera and then stuck out her tongue.

“That will work, too,” Lilly teased before clicking off a half dozen shots. “Maybe you could stick that thing out a little farther?”

Her daughter giggled, giving her more good material.

“What is Da going to cook for his own birthday?” Maggie sidled to her side once more, tucking her head under her mother’s arm, putting an end to the photos for now.

“Fish, probab—”

Her answer got cut off by the baby’s sudden squawk. Before she could respond, her oldest daughter lurched from under her arm and crawled across the blanket to cuddle her youngest sister.

Maggie was very like her father. Though she’d inherited her mother’s bronze skin, green eyes and blonde hair, in every other way, she was Iain’s daughter. Maggie was the one who worried about her family, who took every word to heart, who felt responsible when things went wrong. Lilly had worked hard to make sure her oldest didn’t shoulder too much, and during the last year, she’d seen a bit of rebellion in her oldest daughter’s eyes, a hopeful sign.

Iain had warned her there was a
donas
lurking in his oldest daughter’s heart.

It appeared he was correct.

“What are my women doing this fine day?” His voice boomed into the garden, heralding his arrival along with their seven-year-old son.

Lilly gave him a sassy smile. “Waiting for you and your son, Your Majesty.”

“As it should be.” He gave her a wicked smile before pushing Donny forward. “Come on then, lad. Tell the girls about your triumph.”

“Another triumph?”

Her son answered her question with a wide grin that sported two missing front teeth. The loss was not due to nature taking its course, but rather, the boy had lost them while diving off the stone bridge and into the stream two weeks ago.

Iain had not been happy.

Donny jumped into one thing and then another, making his mother laugh and his father continually start on a new lecture. Their son’s current obsession was rocks. His collection sported ancient granite and gabbro as well as a good assortment of crystal and agates. “I crawled up the tallest crag on the island, Mum, so I could see what rocks were up there.”

“Finally, huh.” She gave him a warm smile, knowing the boy had wanted to get to the top for months. “That’s a pretty tall climb.”

“Ye don’t say,” his father said, with an ironic twist of his mouth.

“Aye!” His son bounced into the middle of the blanket, making his older sister mutter and swing the baby out of harm’s way. “And it was so cool. I could practically see all the way to Grandpa and Grandma’s house in New York.”

Surprisingly, Donal Malcolm McPherson had become the apple of Samuel Dimon’s eye. It amused Lilly, because her son was so much like her. But for whatever reason, Samuel had become a devoted fan. Because of this, the McPhersons made an annual pilgrimage to New York City, welcomed with warmth and acceptance.

Life was filled with surprises.

“Da.” Maggie eyed him with a determined look.

“Aye?” Her father eyed her right back, his expression going serious. He and Maggie had a special connection. Sometimes Lilly felt as if they talked to each other without words. “What is it?”

“I’m going on a trip with ye.”

“Are ye then?” His sky-blue eyes lit with pleasure. “Where is it we’re going?”

“Just us two.” His daughter gave him a gimlet eye.

“Eh?” His attention swung to his son who’d ran off with Marie to inspect a broken trellis. He looked back at his oldest. “Am I neglecting ye, my Maggie?”

She nuzzled into the baby, her long golden lashes lowering to hide her eyes. “Maybe.”

Kneeling down, Iain tapped her chin.

She stared at him, her small face scrunched in hurt.

“Och, lass.” Worry immediately filled her husband’s face.

Lilly stepped in before he went into a tizzy of regret. “Perhaps the oldest of the McPherson clan and her father should have a whole day on Bha Innis all to themselves.”

Iain swung to look at her, his gaze alert. “Why, that’s a fine idea. What do ye say, my Maggie?”

“I’d like that.” A rare, sunny smile crossed their daughter’s face. “A lot.”

“Then it’s a date.” Her father leaned in and placed a tender kiss on her cheek before doing the same to the baby. He stood just as his two other children ran up to join the family again.

“Is Grandpa Ed going to come for dinner, Da?” Marie clutched her dad’s nicked hands, her face lifted, a piquant, pretty visage.

“He’s invited.” Iain swept his little girl into his brawny arms, his gaze filled with affection. “And if his favorite girl is there, I can’t think why he wouldn’t come.”

“Molly is his favorite,” Maggie asserted, her doting gaze on her youngest sister.

“Naw.” Her husband glanced at Lilly and smiled, not the wicked teasing one of a few minutes ago, but one of solid devotion. “I’m thinking that’s always going to be your mum.”

“Everyone loves everything about Mum, don't they?” Donny barreled into her arms and grinned at her.

“What’s not to love about a
donas
?” Iain gave her a wink, his sky-blue eyes clear and bright.