“Or maybe,” he dropped his arms and came towards her until he was well into her private space, “it’s because you’re scared.”
Yes, she was often scared. In this particular case, yes, she was very scared. Of him and what pumped inside her.
She couldn’t help herself.
She took a step back.
His amber hair waved in the wind and those predator eyes gleamed as if he’d sighted his prey. The modern jumper and jeans he had on did nothing to dispel the sense he came from a time long ago when men were warriors and conquerors and plunderers.
“Ye are scared, aren’t ye, Ms. Douglas.” One big paw of a hand swept his hair from his face, those eyes never leaving hers. “What I’m wondering is…why?”
Chapter 4
Well, he’d done a good job of scaring the little mouse, hadn’t he?
Cam watched as she scurried away, down the moor and toward the damn house.
An ugly slide of remorse ran through him, and he tried to shrug it off. He’d only asked a question or two. Nothing terribly important. He didn’t care if he called her Ms. Douglas or Jennet. But clearly, his teasing had stirred something inside her because those big, grey eyes of hers had widened with distress.
“Ye bastard,” he mumbled as he stuck his hands in his pockets.
She’d twirled around without uttering another word and scrambled away from him like he had the plague.
Hunching his shoulders, he swung back to stare at the loch once more, trying to distract himself from his guilt.
Soon it would be warm enough to take his boats onto the water. He couldn’t wait to take his brand new Orkney longliner out for some fishing. Or skim the waves with the Oyster sailboat he’d bought, thinking it would be compensation for losing his freedom. Nothing would be compensation enough, yet the thought of getting out in the wind and the waves was some consolation.
Kicking a stone down the hill, he meandered farther from the house and the mouse. His mind reluctantly went back to what he’d done a few moments ago.
He was going to have to apologize for badgering her.
Baw. He never apologized. Not anymore.
But he didn’t want to lose her magic fingers, and he’d upset her. Unintentionally, but he’d done it. To keep the peace, he was going to have to get on the proverbial bended knee and ask Ms. Douglas for her forgiveness for his sinful behavior.
The thought made all his happiness about his boats slip into surly disgruntlement.
Better to get the damn apology finished now. Get it over with.
His long legs ate up the land as he paced back to his prison. By the time he reached the house, a light rain had dampened his hair and jumper. He still hadn’t gotten used to the cold and damp. After years in the Middle East and Africa, coming back to Scotland’s misty weather and calm, careful culture had been a shock. A shock he hadn’t enjoyed, and hadn’t adjusted to.
And he wouldn’t have to for much longer.
If he put the boy in a boarding school.
Shoving away the thought, he marched up the back stairs. He’d take a quick shower and change these damp clothes before confronting the woman and giving her his humble apology. There’d be no risking of her getting in a snit and hightailing it out of here before he’d finished his best story. He needed those fingers tapping on the keyboard. Moving down the hall, he entered his dark, dreary bedroom.
Only to find little Miss Mouse standing by the antique cherry cabinet he used to store his socks and underwear.
“What the hell are ye doing in here?” Shock ran through him. She was too close, too near 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?”