A Highland Summer: The Billionaire's Nanny (A BWWM Billionaire Contemporary Romance) by Imani King Read Free Book Online Page B

and bringing with her the smell of something delicious for dinner.
    "Och, we thought you'd all gotten lost!" she exclaimed, eying the three of us with what felt like particular concentration. I couldn't quite meet her gaze and took the opportunity to tell everyone I was going to wash up for dinner. I could feel eyes on my back as I ducked under the stone archway to the staircase that led to my room. Cameron's eyes, Mrs. Clyde's eyes and, most of all, Darach's eyes.
    When I fell asleep that night it was with the kind of tiredness that comes only from spending hours outdoors. I recognized it vaguely from the summer days of my childhood - the deliciousness of snuggling into a soft bed with the warmth of the sun still sinking into your skin. Of course there was also the warmth caused not by the sun but by the look on Darach's face when he'd leaned down over me by the Treacle-Eater's Tower, not to mention the hot, needy kiss we'd shared before Cameron woke up. Alone in bed, I blushed a little at the memory of my soaking panties, which I'd only noticed when I took them off for my pre-dinner shower. No man had ever had that effect on me before. It frightened me, but it also just stoked the fire Darach had caused in my belly even higher. He did that with a kiss. A single kiss and a few little touches. What could he do to me if it went farther than that?

Chapter 8
     
    I was woken up by the next morning by a series of knocks on my door followed by a small, plaintive voice:
    "Miss Robinson? Miss Robinson?"
    It was Cameron. I found her standing alone in her pajamas with a very worn-looking stuffed dragon clutched in her arms. Instead of saying anything to me when I finally opened the heavy door she just reached both her small arms up and curled her body around mine when I picked her up.
    "What are you doing here, little one?" I asked, "Isn't Mrs. Clyde making breakfast for you?"
    But I knew why she was at my door. It was the day she was to fly back down to London. And none of the fake cheer I forced into my voice fooled her.
    "I don't want to go to London, Miss Robinson. Please let me stay here."
    I put her down on my bed and sat beside her.
    "I want you to stay here, too, Cameron. But it isn't my decision. It isn't your Daddy's decision either. If you don't go to London your Daddy might get in trouble."
    She knew she had to go. I could see it written all over her face and in her trembling lower lip. Once again the question of what any mother could be doing to a child to make them so reluctant to see her leapt into my mind. I had yet to see any marks on Cameron other than a small bruise on her left thigh that she herself had told me she'd gotten when she slipped and fell on the mossy rocks beside the loch. She didn't strike me as a storyteller, either - she'd owned up to sneaking into the kitchen and gorging herself on shortbread earlier in the week when Mrs. Clyde and I had been surprised by an uncharacteristic refusal to eat dinner.
    "I don't want to go."
    Cameron's voice was a barely audible whisper. I felt completely helpless.
    "I know you don't want to go, honey. But today is Saturday and tomorrow is Sunday - you'll be back tomorrow night! Mrs. Clyde will make stew for dinner and you can eat it with me and your Daddy. And then next week it's going to be hot so we can go swimming in the loch."
    "And then next weekend I have to go to London again. And the next weekend and the next weekend."
    Cameron was the child of a very wealthy man. When she started school it would be the best private school in Scotland. I knew she would never want for the best of anything materially or educationally. Emotionally, however, she seemed as deprived as any child I've ever seen - and I grew up hovering around the poverty line. Her desolation made me angry. All the visits to London were court mandated and as far as I knew even in the United Kingdom custody decisions were made based on the best interests of the child. Who had made the decision that