Lion of Caledonia: International Billionaires VII: The Scots Read Online Free Page B

Turning, he marched to the double doors leading into the great hall. “But be here tomorrow.”
    “Yes, si-”
    “On time.” His statement slashed through her disobedient use of his title and the slam of the door behind him put a stinging punctuation to his demand.
    The air in the room seemed to drain, like all life had been sucked out at his departure.
    Jen dropped her hands into her lap and gazed at the words dancing on the computer screen. They capered and leapt off the page in a choreographed adventure that stirred her heart and mind.
    He was lethal.
    Yet he was also magic.
    She hadn’t read any of his six thrillers. Reading wasn’t one of her big hobbies; she’d much rather be in the gardens getting her hands dirty. Yet she couldn’t wait to find all of his books and dive into the thrill of his words.
    There had to be a copy of each one in this big, old library of his, wouldn’t there?
    Pushing back her chair, she stood and groaned when her muscles clenched. She’d been typing for four hours without a break and yet, until now, she hadn’t noticed the time. She stretched on her tiptoes, then leaned down, planting her palms on the floor between her feet.
    Every muscle yelled. Her stomach joined the protest by grumbling.
    Her memory came back to life and reminded her why she was here.
    She took in a deep breath. She wasn’t here to read tall tales. She was here to steal. And she was right here in his library. Could it be possible he kept the ring here?
    “Ms. Douglas.” The housekeeper’s voice came from the open door.
    Jen jumped up, embarrassment flooding her cheeks at getting caught with her arse in the air. Another realization flooded her—she’d lost her chance to search for now.
    “At Mr. Steward’s direction, I’ve put your lunch in your room for ye.” The older woman gave her a frosty stare.
    “Thank you.” She tried a tentative smile.
    Ignoring her, Mrs. Rivers huffed before disappearing through the arch of the door, but she felt as if the older woman was lingering, watching. Okay. She wouldn’t search here first. That didn’t mean she was going to let herself be regulated to her tiny bedroom.
    Walking into the great hall, she glanced around and wasn’t surprised when silence was the only thing she got from the Steinway and the suits of armor. Mrs. Rivers had an eerie way of disappearing. The woman matched this eerie place. It didn’t matter. She’d grab a sandwich upstairs before starting her search somewhere other than the library and the hall.
    By the time she’d had a spot of tea and her delivered lunch, she was ready to go.
    Find the ring, Jennet, and sneak away.
    As she walked down to the first floor again, she found herself lingering by one wide window that looked out on the gardens. In the daylight, she saw what she’d missed last night. The vast length of the lawn rolling to the loch was filled with overgrown hedges and flower beds filled with old, dead weeds.
    Every one of her gardener instincts rose in instant objection. Sure, it was March, but these beds should be cleared and ready for spring. Those hedges should have been cut back in the fall.
    Find the ring.
    Shaking herself, she stomped down the last of the stars, reviewing her plan. This was a monster of a house, yet there were only so many places a ring could be stored. She’d start on the first floor and with luck, find the prize there. If not there, then she’d have to get sneaky and take on the second floor—the family quarters.
    Be smart, that was all she had to do.
    Where would Cameron Steward store the ring he’d put on the cover of his last bestseller? The ring he’d labeled The Blood Ring? The ring her grandfather had given to his lost love forty years ago?
    Not the great hall, she bet.
    So, where?
    She strode to the doors of the drawing room, but then shook her head. Not there, either.
    Wandering past the dining room, she walked over to another set of double doors. Why not see what was in here?
    The door