Page 26 of Gift-Wrapped in a Kilt

"We'll see about that." Trevor leaned toward Gavin. "My bank balance measures eight digits. How many shillings do you have to your name?"

"Do you really think Jamie's so shallow you can wow her with your fat wallet?"

"I can shower her with all the things she could never afford. Women value security. I have the connections to make certain she gets anything she wants or needs. I'd wager I could have you locked up in the Tower of London if I wanted."

"The Tower's a museum. You planning to lock me in the janitor's closet?"

"I'm sure you'd feel comfortable in there." Trevor rocked back on his heels. "The point is, I can fulfill Jamie's every wish. What do you have to offer?"

What did Gavin have to offer? Not much. But dammit, he loved Jamie — and she loved him.

"Your silence speaks volumes," Trevor said. He rocked back on his heels, thumbs hooked inside the ascot of his frilly outfit. "Two months ago, I came across a copy of an Inverness newspaper. In the society section, there was a picture of Rory and his new bride at their wedding. You and Jamie were in the background." Trevor tipped his nose up, radiating superiority. "She did not look happy."

He sauntered away, vanishing into the crowd.

For a few seconds, Gavin pondered Trevor's motivations for coming here. Though he'd said Jamie didn't seem happy, he hadn't sounded disturbed by the idea. In fact, Gavin almost thought the guy seemed… pleased.

Nah, he must've misread Trevor.

Gavin tried to shove his hands in his pants pockets, but the slacks of his monkey suit didn't have any. Why couldn't he ask Jamie to marry him? At the critical moment, he'd choked. And now, all she wanted from him was orgasms. Maybe she would prefer a slick British multimillionaire over an unemployed American with emotional hang-ups.

Why else would she have never mentioned Trevor?

A hand clapped down on his shoulder.

"That was a right massacre," Iain said. "You look like you need a drink."

"Not sure it'll help, but what the hell."

His life couldn't fall any deeper into the shithole.

Iain squeezed his shoulder. "Cheer up, laddie. Trevor's a bleeding ersehole and everybody knows it."

Gavin wasn't so sure Jamie agreed with that statement.

He let Iain shepherd him toward the wet bar, but the gnawing in his gut only worsened.

Chapter Eleven

"There's a young man at the door for you, Jamie," Mrs. Darroch said. She stood in the doorway of Jamie's room on the ground floor of the castle, eying Jamie with a tight-lipped expression. "It's that Trevor person. Should I tell the wank to leave off?"

Jamie laughed. "Wank? Never heard you use that word before."

"Donnae care for this one. He's… ungentlemanly." Mrs. Darroch sniffed and lifted her nose, making her gray curls bounce. "Causing a scene at the party last night, that's no way to behave. And poor Gavin…"

The housekeeper, who doubled as a mother hen, had adored Gavin from their first meeting. She thought he was "charming" and "clever" and "sweet enough to eat." Mrs. Darroch often pinched and patted Gavin's cheeks, which always made him blush. Despite the fact he'd dumped Jamie, Mrs. Darroch still believed they belonged together.

"Will ye see the w — the young man?" Mrs. Darroch asked.

Jamie slid off the bed and slipped her feet into a pair of slippers. "Yes, I'll see him."

"Donnae sound excited by the prospect."

Was it her imagination, or did Mrs. Darroch look pleased that Jamie was less than thrilled about seeing Trevor?

"He's no Gavin," the woman said, "is he?"

The housekeeper's preference was clear. Every woman Jamie knew encouraged her to take Gavin back — not that he'd asked her to or expressed any interest in reconciliation. Her sisters, Catriona and Fiona, fawned over Gavin. Her sisters-in-law, the three American wives, all thought Gavin was wonderful. Only her brothers expressed no particular opinion about her relationship with Gavin, though Aidan had developed a polite attitude toward his wife's brother.

---