Page 46 of Tempted

“And you have this kind of money, do you.” She infers, like it’s a test.

“Lass, I assure you that I have enough money to buy every house on this entire block, if I felt so inclined to do so.”

“Are you some kind of shark? Are you going to have someone come after me for the money later?”

I shake my head no. “No, Madame. I assure you. I’m an engineer with my own business. Any money that I have in my possession is my own and no one else’s. Now, before I transfer you the money, can you assure me that you can hold up your end of the bargain?”

A blink and a swallow later, and she nods. “Yes. I don’t feel right about it, but I can. As long as you promise me that we never had this conversation. My livelihood is all I have.”

“You have my word.” I shake her hand for good measure, and then I transfer the funds to her. When I leave, I feel a satisfied pull in my belly, like I just somehow conquered the world, even if it was just a little white lie to help save a friend from a certain heartache. If Malcolm would protect me, which I know he would, then I feel like it’s okay to go the extra mile and protect him, too.

...and I know exactly what to do next...

Chapter 15

Malcolm

“Iwant you to meet with her tomorrow, Malcolm.” Uncle Dougall insists. He’s chosen to corner me in my own office, away from Rush, Declan, or anyone else that knows the history between me and Clare.

“And why is that?” I ask, half facetiously.

He gives me a look. He was supposed to be staying in Scotland since the storm, but after its bark turned out to be worse than its bite, so to speak, at least in North Carolina, he flew back immediately. Far be it for Dougall to turn his backon an opportunity to brow beat me more. “You’re not daring to question my motives, are you, lad?”

If Rush was in here, right now, he’d be volunteering himself. But, this, once again, is punishment. “No, sir.”

“Good. Good.” He says, pleased, his pace changing back to bouncy as he walks around my office. “You go on home now and prepare. I’m sure that you have plenty of things to put in place, especially since you need to get Farley’s affairs in order.”

I purse my lips. “So, you haven’t considered giving him to an intern.”

There’s that look again. “Malcolm...” He warns.

“Fine.” I seethe. “You can reach me by cell for the rest of the day.”

Dougall blames me for all this bullshit. From the deal with Callum to the surprise pregnancy with Clare. All of it. And it’s not just because I’m not one of his sons, either, no. He’d peg any one of them responsible if it fit. This is all just because Dougall loves the kill. He loves to point the finger at someone, because that only means one thing: that nobody will point the finger at him. I gather my things and head home, leaving enough space in my driveway so that the landscapers can come and tidy up from the storm.

I’m thoroughly pissed off by the time I get home, so I bury myself in work, taking my mind off things. The landscapers arrive, do their work, and leave, and then I can feel my stomach growling I’m so hungry, so I make myself something to eat. It’s another hour before I realize that I’ve been working non-stop all day, and I still can’t come up with an angle to act so daft that Clare will never suspect that I know the truth. Nor will I ever get the truth out of her myself. The only way around this is to have security sniff around and find out if the bitch is really pregnant. And for that, well, we just don’t have the time, since the meeting is tomorrow.

My chest is tight with anxiety when I hear the gate alert me that someone is here. It’s nearly ten o’clock at night, and I wonder which cousin or brother is here, since it would be nobody else at this hour. Not without warning, anyway. When I look at the screen, I see who it is, and I’m intrigued. As I touch the screen to allow entry and walk out the front door, I watch her car pull up. “What are you doing here this late, lass? Shouldn’t you be at home convalescing?”

Steph has a smirk on her face that I don’t know how to read. She’s almost smug. And I’m not sure what this means, but historically, her attitude has been a problem, so I find my back up.

“I’m fine. Were you sleeping?”

I cut to the chase, not wanting to beat around the bush. “Dougall’s making me meet with Clare tomorrow. I’ve been trying to wrap my head around that fucking train wreck, so no.”

“Sounds like my day.” She concedes as I let her inside the house.

“You want me to start a fire?”

“Not unless you’ve fixed the fucking carbon monoxide detector.”

“Ah, shooting from the hip tonight, are you, lass.” I chuckle, pouring us each a glass of water. She’s sitting at the kitchen table, pulling a grape off the vine inside my fruit bowl. As she chews it, I hand her the water. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” I ask, sitting down adjacent to her. For once, I don’t need to worry about a snarky comment from her, or at least, my feeling is that she’s not here to rub my nose in anything. Or is she?

“When do you meet with the swine?” She asks, after draining her glass. I rise to refill it, and hand her it, but she leaves that one full.

“It’s a late meeting. Her da’s just coming in from Scotland in the morning. Won’t be until four o’clock. I can see us ordering indinner, because she’ll ride it out as long as possible. No free rides with that psycho.”

“And what’s your plan?”

---