Lion of Caledonia: International Billionaires VII: The Scots by Caro LaFever

the boy.
    He’d had strict instructions left by his mum and reinforced by Mrs. Rivers during the last six months. Nothing should startle the boy. Nothing should disturb him or frustrate him. Cam felt like he walked on eggshells every day, and he’d resented it. But this was his son, after all, although he hadn’t been the boy he’d dreamed of. The son he’d wanted.
    The mouse gave him only a choked sound in response to his reasonable outrage.
    The noise made him angrier. “Speak up. Why the hell are ye snooping in my bedroom?”
    Her hand jerked out of one of his drawers.
    The thought made him think of her hand in another kind of drawers and his body reacted.
    Stunning him.
    Not once in the last few weeks had he thought of Ms. Douglas in relation to sex. Not once.
    Until now.
    The realization that it was lust, true and potent lust running through him, shocked him more than finding her in his bedroom.
    His fury spiked.
    Slamming the door shut so she wouldn’t escape into the hall, he leaned on the door and crossed his arms. All thoughts of apologies for his rude behavior went straight out of his mind. “Nothing to say again, Ms. Douglas?”
    Her throat moved as she gulped in a swallow.
    “You’ll not be able to get out of a conversation so easily this time.” His elbow jabbed behind him, hitting the solid oak door with a pointed thud. “Start talking.”
    “I’m…” She swallowed again and her eyes widened in distress. Again, distress.
    But he wasn’t having any of it. Not now, not anymore.
    He’d played nice for weeks. Dutifully calling her what she wanted, reining in his teases, taking long walks outside so he wouldn’t be tempted to hunt her down and find out what she was doing. He’d treated her with a deference he’d given no other woman since his dead wife and dead mother.
    Not anymore.
    “You’re…?” He arched a brow. “You’re what?”
    Her hands, the hands he’d become fixated on for no reason at all, her hands lifted to her mouth. His fascination with them made no sense. Her nails were plain and cut to the quick. The fingers weren’t long and elegant, nor were they short and blunt. They were…average. Exactly like the rest of her.
    Yet, he lusted. He lusted, dammit.
    “I…” she gasped. “I…”
    Her hands fluttered to her throat and her skin, if it were possible, became whiter.
    Much to his disgust, his anger dissipated, replaced by confusion. Straightening from the door, he dropped his hands. “What’s wrong?”
    Those big grey eyes went from horror to a dazed incomprehension. Her hands slapped on the cabinet, like she was trying to keep herself upright.
    “Fucking hell.” He took two steps to get to her side and barely made it in time. She sank down almost to her knees before he scooped her up. Her head flopped back on his arm and her eyes closed, blanking out his ability to understand what was going on.
    If this was a fake faint, then Ms. Jennet Douglas should immediately take the train straight to London’s West End.
    Her whole body trembled and a light sheen of sweat covered her face. Cam tightened his grip, noticing how solid her weight was in his arms.
    How neatly she fit in his arms.
    Before he allowed himself to take that thought further, he strode to his unmade bed and sat with her in his arms. She curled into his body as if trying to find safety. He’d been the one yelling at her, though; she shouldn’t be finding comfort in her accuser’s embrace.
    “God damn.” His heart thudded in his chest. “Should I be taking ye to the hospital?”
    “No.” The one word came, soft yet assured.
    Surprised, he looked down to meet her grey gaze. Her eyes had cleared and relief swamped through him. “No?”
    “No,” she said again, quite clearly.
    “You’re sure?” He swept a careful hand across her forehead, letting himself brush the line of blonde hair he’d wanted to investigate for weeks.
    “Yes.” She didn’t move from his embrace or make any attempt to get