Chapter 35

Chapter Thirty-Five

E ntering Barron’s, Derrick dodged the receptionist, who narrowed her eyes at him when she spotted him entering the lobby. Women never forgot the man that didn’t call when he’d said he would. It was already a bad enough day without adding drama. The elevator doors closed just as he reached them. He pounded the up button to stop them, but it was too late.

“Well hello, Derrick McRainey,” the woman, Lillian was her name, caught up to him. “You’re not trying to avoid me, are you?”

Assuming a look of surprise, he faced her. “Lillian, what a pleasant surprise.” He took her hand and squeezed it to his chest. “I have thought of you often. I know you won’t forgive me for not calling, but I do hope you’ll allow me to take you out for lunch after my meeting to, in part, make up for my abominable behavior.”

Indecision was evident as she looked at their intertwined fingers. “Of course, I understand if you say no.” He gave her his best sorrowful look, and any chance of refusal was dashed.

The elevator doors opened, and he entered, his eyes locked with Lillian’s until the doors closed. Better to keep Barron’s staff in his corner, especially after the morning he’d have.

His solicitor called first thing and rescheduled their appointment with Edith, telling him she’d filed a motion against him, calling for Derrick to cease and desist any actions against her holdings, based on irrefutable evidence that Tristan McRainey was her son. Being that the McRainey fortune always passed to the women of the family, if she proved Tristan was her son, it trumped Derrick, who was born to a McRainey male.

“Her son.” He couldn’t help but grumble out loud.

Usually he preferred not to attend the meetings with their financial manager, but today he was making an exception. Regardless of his lack of attendance, he understood business. He had graduated from Harvard and kept abreast of all the McRainey corporation transactions and holdings. It would be somewhat of a lift to the dreadful day to see Tristan make a fool out of himself at this meeting.

Derrick walked into Barron’s Investment’s large conference room and was promptly greeted by O’Donnell, their account manager. Only the man practically threw his hand back upon Edith and Tristan’s entrance. The thin man’s face beamed as he fawned over Derrick’s aunt and her ‘son.’ Derrick sat and motioned for the assistant to pour him coffee as he waited for the butt-kissing episode to end.

He had to admit the change in his ‘cousin’ amazed him. In a black Armani suit, Tristan looked every bit the business magnate. His hair, shorter, but still longer than most men’s, was styled and combed away from his face.

If either Edith or Tristan were surprised at Derrick’s presence, they did not show it. His aunt sat down across from him, allowing Tristan to sit at the head of the table. Tristan spoke to him first. “Hello, Derrick. Will you be joining us for dinner tonight? We’ll be staying here in town for the evening.”

Although shocked at the invitation, he tried to keep his expression flat. “I’ve other plans, thank you.” He eyed his aunt, who smiled at him warmly.

Passing out leather portfolios with documents, O’Donnell began briefing them, interjecting enough details to ensure Tristan was brought up to date. Derrick noted that Tristan took notes the entire time.

The assistant announced the arrival of Colin Byrne, the owner of a small company they maintained a partnership with. Byrne proceeded to brief them on his company’s current production and financial status.

Derrick interrupted him. “Byrne Inc. has shown a loss for the last three quarters. I don’t see why McRainey Industries should maintain the partnership and continue financially assisting your failing business.”

Colin Byrne looked to Edith and Tristan before speaking. “I stand behind my company and have no doubt that we will rise above our current set-back. The recession has caused the demise of many small companies such as Byrne Inc., but we’ve managed to survive. We’re a strong Scottish company.”

“Perhaps due to your strong partnership,” Derrick told the man, noting his color rising.

“Mr. O’Donnell,” Tristan interrupted. “Can you tell me if McRainey Industries has suffered any losses due to the recession?”

O’Donnell nodded. “Yes, my lord. But of course, most of your holdings are in safe accounts.”

“I understand you can’t give me specifics since it’s a family matter, but have our losses with Byrne Inc. been worse than with other partners, big or small?”

“No.”

Tristan looked to Colin Byrne. “We will maintain our partnership with you.”

Derrick stormed out of the elevator, coming to a stop only when spotting the receptionist desk. The devil with Barron’s. Today he could not care less if any receptionist was angry with him. He rushed out the side door of the building and straight to his car.

If Tristan and Edith were here in Edinburgh, that left Gwyneth home alone.

His fake cousin was infatuated with the ghost whisperer. Losing Gwen to Derrick, even if just a perception, would be a blow.

Or maybe just enough to make him feel better.

It was a perfect evening, as far as Gwen was concerned. Reading a romance novel in the study, lying on a couch before a cheerful fire, she couldn’t help but sigh happily while allowing her gaze to scan the room. This could be my home. If only.

The recurring inner struggle regarding Tristan’s proposal began. Yes, he didn’t love her, but maybe in time he would. He definitely desired her. She loved him, and that counted for something. Didn’t it?

No, she’d done the right thing. She would not say yes, not to his marriage proposal. Although, she wasn’t sure she could resist him when it came to any other type of proposition. Shivering, she recalled their intimate times together. How she missed his touch.

The maids were off for the evening, so hearing the front door close, she sat up to see who’d arrived. Edith called earlier to tell her she and Tristan were remaining in Edinburgh. She planned to continue his business lessons all day, visiting some of McRainey’s businesses. They’d stay in one of their Edinburgh homes for the night.

“Good evening, Gwen.” Derrick walked in, making a beeline for the couch she was sitting on, dropping next to her. He gave her a charismatic smile she suspected was the downfall of many women. “I wanted to assure you, I hold no grudge over the incident in the garden. I was out of line.”

“I’m glad,” she replied, placing the book between them. “Edith and Tristan are not home. They’re in Edinburgh.”

“Pity,” he told her, although his bright smile contradicted his statement. “Although, it gives me the opportunity to spend time with you. And get to know you better.”

What was the man up to? Gwen fidgeted, unsure what to do. Pulling her hair up, she repositioned her clip, allowing it to remain in a messy up-do.

Derrick seemed to sense her discomfort and stood to pour himself a drink. With his rather tall whiskey in hand, he began to tell her of his exploits while attending Harvard. Before long she began to relax, enjoying the man’s company.

Before long, both of them were laughing, comparing college stories. Gwen drank several glasses of wine. Admittedly, he could be charming when he wanted to.

“Goodness, it’s almost one-thirty in the morning,” Gwen told him, shaking her head. “I’d better get to bed.”

Derrick nodded in agreement. “I’m afraid I drank too much to drive home. I will sleep here as well. A shame really to sleep in that huge empty bed all by myself.” He leaned forward as if to kiss her, she turned away, laughing at his attempt.

He gave her a hurt look. “Gwen, a beautiful woman like you should never sleep alone.”

“I don’t always sleep alone,” she replied, arching a brow. “I do have to admit, I understand how you are rarely by yourself in bed.”

He bowed, smiling good-naturedly at her.

“Good night, Derrick,” she told him, making her way to her room.

“Yes, good night to you as well,” the response came.

Groggy, Gwen blinked as a sunray hit her face. She blinked, wondering why her curtain was thrown open. Rolling over to reach for her cell phone, she bumped into the man lying next to her.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Gwen shrieked at the still sleeping Derrick.

He sprang up, his hair standing comically all over his head. “What?”

“Get out of my bed, you beast!” She began beating the dazed man, who fell off the bed, yelping in pain.

“When did you sneak in here? I told you no !” She picked up her pillow and continued beating him, not allowing him to get up. Finally he stopped trying to sit up and covered his face with his arms.

“You will get out of this room, and you will never, and I repeat never speak to me again. Do you hear me?” Gwen was becoming winded, but didn’t stop the pillow beating.

“What in the bloody hell is your problem?” Derrick yelled at her. “I have a right to any room in this house.”

“The hell you do.” Tristan’s angry voice caused Gwen to freeze, the pillow above her head. Derrick also froze, his wide eyes looking up at the very angry man who proceeded to pick the younger McRainey up and toss him across the room like a rag doll.

“Oh, shit.” Gwen said, not sure what else fit the bill at a time like this.

Tristan crossed the room so swiftly he was a blur. Gwen jumped from the bed, managing to grab on to his arm as he reared back, his fist balled. Derrick was pinned against the wall, eyes bulging.

“Stop, Tristan. You’ll kill him.” Her feet lifted from the floor as he swung. But he managed to stop just as he was about to connect with Derrick’s jaw.

Tristan snarled in anger, his entire stance reminding her of his warrior training. “Do not leave. I will speak with you,” he gritted out, shoving Derrick toward the doorway. “If you leave, I will comb the world looking for you and when I find you…” He didn’t continue, as the younger McRainey held up his hands understanding.

Gwen released his arm, not sure what to do next. “You kept your strength.”

“It would seem so.” He looked her over as if to ensure she wasn’t hurt.

Hair mussed from sleeping, straps falling off her shoulders, she made for a bewitching sight. “Did he touch you?”

She frowned at him. “No. He must have snuck in here while I slept. I don’t think it was an accident, but I also don’t think he would have forced himself on me.”

Dragging his gaze away from her, he looked over to the rumpled bed. “I’m not so sure about that. I don’t think he would have succeeded. It seems you were defending yourself in a manner that would dissuade any man from forcing himself upon you.”

He pressed his lips together to keep from laughing, recalling the scene he’d walked into. She frowned up at him.

“You think it’s funny. Augh! Get out.”

“Do you really wish me to?” He asked her, moving closer.

“Yes?” She went to turn away. He held her arm. “You don’t sound sure.”

When her dark-brown eyes met his, the room seemed to tilt. If he didn’t leave her bedroom, he might suffer the same fate as Derrick. Before she could protest, he kissed her lightly and turned.

“Why did you return so early?” Gwen stopped him.

“Your sister arrives today, does she not?”

She nodded.

“I am anxious to begin the work of freeing the men. I must go speak to Derrick. I wish to speak with you before your sister arrives.”

When he entered the study, Derrick visibly tensed. Good, he wanted the young McRainey to feel intimidated. He, on the other hand, felt like the father about to punish an unruly child. Keeping his eyes flat, he stood, his hands relaxed at his side.

“I don’t owe you anything, Derrick. Everything you have, the privileges you enjoy, are all because of the hard work of me, my Da, and his father before him. You will leave this house and not return until you accept that I am the rightful owner—Laird McRainey, rightful owner of Dunimarle Castle.”

“It’s just that…” Derrick began, but stopped talking when Tristan glared at him.

“If I had not left, been enchanted, I would have sired children. This entire debacle would not be an issue. You would have no claim whatsoever to my title or my lands.” He crossed the room standing directly in front of Derrick. “You will leave this home now. Let everything you touch and come across remind you where it came from. Return only when you accept me as the laird.”

Derrick met his eyes, defiance still there. Tristan almost smiled. “You are brash and impulsive—remind me of my younger brother, Geale. He grew up to become a strong leader, so I suspect you will too.”

With one last questioning look, Derrick didn’t reply, walking around Tristan, he left.