Laird of the Highlands: International Billionaires IX: The Scots Read Online Free Page A

daffodils. She spiked her spade into the cool, damp earth again and again, pushing him and his money and his accusation back and back and back.
    It was no use. Her dilemma refused to sift out of her brain.
    Will’s son had pots and pots of money. Elis had let her know.
    “He’s the creator of Celtae Warrior .” His lanky frame had drooped over her sofa in typical teenage languor, but his face had been filled with awe. “Everyone plays that video game.”
    “I don’t.” Ceri had swirled a spoon in the potato soup she’d made for their dinner.
    Her brother snorted. “You’re too busy with your herbs and stuff.”
    “The herbs that are one day going to make my fortune.”
    Another snort. “Not like Lorne Ross. He’s got this company in London—”
    “How do you know that?” She turned to stare at him.
    “There’s a thing called the internet, Sis.” He gave her an exaggerated sneer. “Ye might want to check it out sometime.”
    So she hadn’t grown up with computers like he had. So what? Just because she preferred pen and paper to typing on a keyboard, didn’t mean she wasn’t as smart as her brother. “Whatever.”
    “Whatever,” he batted back.
    Her brother had developed a decided Scottish burr and an irritating teenage attitude. She supposed that was predictable, as he’d been at Gordonstoun for almost ten years, and she hadn’t been more than peripheral in his life for a long time. But it still hurt to hear not a drop of his heritage in his voice and it still stung when he treated her with disrespect. “I don’t honestly care what Lorne Ross does. He hurt Will and that’s all I need to know about him.”
    “Aye.” Elis slumped further down in the sofa, his face going contemplative. “He is a genius though. And he’s got pots of money.”
    That knowledge had swum in her head for a time in silent contemplation until after another fierce storm had ripped part of the castle’s lower shingles off. Worried about Will’s ongoing stress about his finances, she’d suggested his filthy-rich, genius son might want to help with the staggering costs of the upkeep to the castle and estate. Will had shot her down with the first and only flash of anger she’d ever seen in him.
    She’d never mentioned his son in front of him again.
    But that son and his pots of money were now lurking on her land.
    Forcing herself, she went over what she knew of him. The little that Will had told her. She knew he was smart; he’d graduated from Oxford with honors. She knew he was good at business; he’d started his own right out of university. She knew he was twenty-seven; although he appeared younger, far younger than her thirty, well-worn years.
    Now, she also knew he could be cruel. Unlike his father.
    Gold-digger.
    The spade nearly snapped when she jammed it into the granite wall by mistake.
    She was tediously familiar with that term. Had been since she’d married Gareth at eighteen. It was true her husband had a lot of money, and it was also true she’d married him for it. Yet, gold-digger implied she’d wanted the money for herself. Which wasn’t true at all.
    The spade shot into the ground once more with another forceful jab.
    The townsfolk of Brekelly, Wales, however, had not been eager to parse the details of her marriage. The only thing they’d seen and talked about was the prettiest girl in the town marrying the richest man in the surrounding area. The husband also happened to be more than thirty years older than the bride. Everything else was pointless.
    Her dying mam was pointless.
    Her young brother’s chance of landing in foster care pointless, too.
    Lorne Ross had some knowledge of her background, clearly. He probably had some security team snoop around Brekelly and ask some questions. But the fact his little weasel of a solicitor had offered quite a sum of money told her everything she needed to know.
    He didn’t know her at all.
    She was safe if she kept her cool.
    Straightening from her