DOTTY (The Naughty Ones Book 3) Read online

  The wind is still howling outside, lending an even eerier quality to my already overworked senses, and I whimper, going so stiff my muscles hurt when soft footfalls reach my ears.

  A gasp and then those footfalls speed up before a hand touches my shoulders.

  The piercing cry I let off is bloodcurdling, Jamie Lee type of stuff, and I hit out the second contact is made, going wild and slapping at whatever I can reach.

  “Don’t hurt me!”

  “Jesus Christ! Calm down.”

  My eyes pop open, and then I’m sobbing and practically clawing my way up Cameron’s chest, uncaring of the pain in my ankle or anything else when his strong arms surround me and lift me, cradling me so close I feel the heat of him pierce through the icy coldness that has seeped straight o my bones.

  “Baby. Baby, stop. Ssh, Ducky. There, baby, there now. I’ve got you,” he croons, and I cry harder because it’s pathetic that I’m eating it up and searching for more when just a few days ago I told him to bugger off and leave me alone.

  It’s not very in with the feminist movement that I’m relying on a man to chase away a figment of my imagination, but right now I don’t care. I just need him to make it all better so I can stop feeling the bitter terror.

  When I’ve calmed enough, he pulls back slightly, and I realize he’s sitting on the bed with my body cradled in his lap. His hands swipe at the tears still wetting my cheeks, and he gives me a small kiss before looking back, his concern evident.

  “Duck, what happened?”

  God! How am I supposed to tell him that I freaked out and fell because I think there’s a ghost stalking me? That’s like…Girls Interrupted shit! I’ll end up in the loony bin for sure.

  “Er, uh. I fell?”

  I’m a terrible liar so every half-truth is basically a question, and from the look on his face, he knows me well enough to have caught on in the months since we’ve known each other. Or should I say, since I got out of the hospital and had to relearn everything about the Stones.

  “Now Duck, I know you ask things when you’re not being truthful, so I’m going to ask again and this time tell me the truth. What happened?”

  My expression must go mulish because he grins and then sighs before rubbing circles over my back.

  “I know you’re still angry with me, and you have every right to be—”

  “I do?”

  “Yes. I know I have a lot to make up for, but please, what happened?” he asks earnestly, keeping my eyes up and level with his concerned blue gaze.

  “I…I went to get a snack, and I heard something. It freaked me out.” I admit sheepishly, dropping my eyes. “I sorta ran upstairs to cower under the covers, but I…I must have tripped on something, and then I was too afraid to move in case I fell again, so I…I stayed on the floor and played dead, after about an eternity of loud crying,” I say with a whine, feeling my eyes fill again.

  Sure, I’m not feeling so great about my stupidity now when the lights are on and I’m not alone. Tragic.

  “You’re oaky?” he sounds so panicked that I almost want to lie and say I’m fine.

  But my ankle is throbbing like a toothache on steroids, and I’m not sure he’ll be too pleased if I lie.

  “I hurt my ankle, and I think I wrenched my back when I twisted to avoid falling on my front.” I admit, shuddering out a last sigh.

  Being the sap that I am I snuggle closer to his chest and rest my head on his shoulder, hardly wincing when he lifts my leg and starts poking at my right ankle.

  “We’re going to have to go to the emergency, Duck. It’s really swollen,” he grumbles.

  “I don’t think it’s too bad. Can’t we just put some ice on it? Please?”

  “No. I want you checked out fully. By the way, Mum rang and let me know that her and Dad are staying over at Millie’s, and that Angelica’s staying with them.”

  It’s only after we’ve been to the hospital and found that I’ve got a mild sprain, and then back home and tucked safely in bed that he turns to me, his brow furrowed.

  “What scared you so much you bolted from the kitchen? You’ve never been skittish about getting a snack in the dark.”

  He’s up on his elbow, looming over me, and all I can focus on for a second is the sight if his muscled torso and the way the sheet covers almost nothing.

  “Shaw! What scared you?”

  “You’ll think I’ve finally lost my nut if I tell you,” I say miserably, cuddling deeper into the blankets while keeping my raised foot as still as I can.

  “No, I won’t. Tell me. I swear I won’t be a dick.”

  Huh! Like that’s possible.

  My face must tell him what I don’t say because he grins before sighing and going serious.

  “I have a lot to make up for, and I know it. I’ve been a royal arse the last two weeks.”

  At that I snort, in a really unladylike way, and give him a look that says, “No! Why ever would you say that”’ He thinks he’s been an arse? If we’re going to define things, I would say he was a major, major asshole.

  He chuckles and nods once, conceding the point silently, and it strikes me that Cameron and I know each other very well. I may not remember meeting him, falling in love, or getting pregnant, hell most days I can hardly remember what I ate for breakfast anyway, but I know I’ve felt linked to him since I opened my eyes to see his haggard face.

  I’m still pissed at him, but I trust him like I trust no other. Even knowing I need answers, I’m not afraid. Not even with Alec’s warnings still fresh in my mind.

  “Why are you being so nice all of a sudden? Don’t get me wrong, I like it, a lot more than the way you’ve been recently, but what’s up?”

  I’m rocking the boat here, but I won’t just pretend that the last two weeks haven’t happened.

  He sighs and flops down beside me, holding his arm out in question, almost hopefully. I move in carefully, leaning against his chest stiffly before relaxing and cuddling closer.

  “I think it’s time I told you the truth, Ducky. And then you tell me what really happened.”

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Shaw

  For some reason the thought of knowing everything makes me more nervous than the thought of someone really being in the kitchen with me.

  “Okay,” I say after a deep breath to fortify myself.

  It takes a while for him to collect his thoughts, and I lie there quietly, waiting patiently, sensing his fear and almost determined need to reveal it all.

  “We did not meet and fall in love. You met…you met my brother Robert, over a year ago in a club in New York City. You were celebrating just completing your degree early and being in line for a massive internship. From what you told me, Rob spent the next week courting you before the two of you fell into bed together.”

  I try to jerk away, horrified, disbelieving, terrified that what he’s saying is true, but he tightens his hold and soothes me with gentle caresses that somehow manage to quiet my racing heart and stuttered breaths.

  “You fell pregnant. Rob was already long gone by then, his usual bloody M.O., and you were ill, without a job or a home…you managed to find us, and you rang Mum and then me.”

  “I don’t think I want to know this,” I whisper raggedly, clinging to him as my mind starts whirling.

  Ignorance is bliss right? Maybe it would be best not to know any of this. What he’s saying is that—?

  “Angelica isn’t yours?” I whimper, near tears.

  That sets him off, and I’m on my back, his frame caging me in, his expression so fierce it almost hurts to see it.

  “She is! I claimed her as my own the moment I realized I wanted you and no one will ever say differently. Angelica is my daughter, my first child. Ours. Understand?”

  I nod and smile tremulously. Yes, I understand. He’s an honorable, possessive man, who will never let another take what is his. That means Angelica and I will always be safe and cared for.

  Any wonder I love him?
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  “Good.” He settles down again and pulls me back into place over his beating heart, taking care to avoid jostling my ankle. “I found you in a shelter for abused women. God, you looked so terrible; I wanted to fucking kill someone. I strong-armed you onto my private jet and brought you here.”

  “You wanted me even then?”

  He lets out a rueful laugh and pulls my chin up so I see his face.

  “I was a right arse even then. I blamed you for what I was feeling and convinced myself you were nothing more than a gold digger intent on shafting my grieving family. No, love, listen before you unman me. But even with that filling my head I could not resist you.”

  I snort again and purse my lips, resisting the urge to slap him when he grins.

  “We were drawn to each other and eventually, ahem, I fooled you into accepting my ring. My aunt Millie arranged a massive house party to celebrate our engagement, as well as Kent and Molly’s, so we went and…would you believe me if I tell you I realized minutes before you were pushed that I no longer believed the worst of you?”

  Another snort, this one more amused than disbelieving.

  Leave it to fate to finally cut me some slack minutes before I took a header down stairs and almost croaked, I think. “So you decided to trick me?”

  “No, I…I was as surprised as anyone was that you’d lost your memory, and the doctors were adamant that we should try to let your memory return by itself. They speculated that the shock and the thought of miscarrying must have traumatized you to the point that you retreated from the memory of anything to do with the baby.”

  Makes sense, and yet I can’t help but think that it was the shock of seeing the man, the alleged father of my baby, and one who was supposed to be very much dead that had sealed the deal.

  “Then why the ruse, Cameron? Why let me believe that we were this magical, loving couple? Do you know what sort of nonsense I made up in my mind to replace what I’d lost? God, I am such a sap.”

  “No, Ducky, you are simply a very kindhearted, trusting woman towards whom I have…done wrong. I spent the last months trying to get you to fall for me, and ahem, get you pregnant so that I could keep you should your memory return.”

  If I snort anymore I’m going to turn into a freaking pig, but there’s nothing to say to any of this, not if I want to keep hearing the truth.

  “Go on.”

  He’s squirming and looking very uncomfortable now, as if what he’s revealed isn’t the half of it. God, what more could there be?

  “I behaved appallingly when you told me about Rob, and the thing is, I’m not sure I don’t believe you. If what you saw was real and not your mind drumming up a villain, then I need to ensure that you, Angel, and my parents are safe. Dougal and the lads think that the news of our engagement is the reason for your fall, and I have to agree.”

  I sit up at this and get comfortable, slinging my injured leg over his torso and facing him.

  “That actually makes sense. I’ve been wracking my brain for the last few days, trying to think about why he would push me, and I couldn’t get at a reason. But that makes sense, Cam. What if he is alive? No, just hear me out. Can you think of any reason why he’d let everyone think he’s dead and then…”

  I turn my head and stare out of the window, taking in the jagged forks of lightning and the rolls of thunder beyond, thinking that it’s so apt to be learning everything on such a tempestuous night.

  “Why would a man who is obviously privileged and loved give up his life this way? Unless I really am crazy. Gosh, you know I’ve been so peeved at you I haven’t even considered that you may be right, Cam. Maybe I’m just imagining this.” I finally sigh, feeling my shoulders slump.

  “No, baby, I don’t think you are. Dougal and Kent think it’s someone who resembles Rob, so they’re going back over the security tapes and re-questioning Millie’s security. We’ll find out what happened so that we can be at ease.”

  I nod, not saying anything because even though I’d vacillated, mostly to ease his mind, I know what I know…and it gives me the creeps. My personal opinion? Dear old Rob must have gotten into hot water and tried to disappear.

  Why did he come back and target me? I can’t say, but that bastard tried to kill his own flesh and blood, and for that, I will never forgive him. Nah, for that I will peel him raw when I get my hands on him and get him I will.

  “I should be bait.”

  “What!”

  I squeal and fall back when he vaults to his feet, all semblance or relaxation gone, his face going hard and intense. Good Lord, if he’s reacting this way about one simple suggestion, I hate to think what he’s going to do when I get done.

  “Think about it, Cam! If you’re right, and this happened because we got engaged, which we are so talking about later since I’m not having another child out of wedlock! Then it stands to reason that if we announce our wedding and actually get things rolling, we should be able to lure…er…the person.”

  He pauses, and I think, yes, I have him now. My super logic and altogether too smart brain are genius. So genius he can’t help but see how crazy, sick smart I am.

  When he practically dives at me and starts kissing me senseless, I get the impression—fleeting though it is since I can’t think with him all over me—that he’s not so bowled over by my brain but more interested in my body.

  An age later, when my lips are puffy and slick and I’m trying to climb into his skin, he pulls back and grins down at me with wicked glee.

  “You just proposed to me, Ducky!”

  “What! No, I did not. No. Nope. Nahah. I refuse!”

  This is so not the story I want to tell my children and grandchildren one day. No way! I can hear it now, Oh, by the way kids, your father was telling me about what a douche he was and me being the ass I am, I proposed. Sooo romantic!

  Not in this freaking lifetime.

  “Yes. Yes, you did! You said—!”

  “I don’t give a rat’s tiny ass what you think you heard, buddy, but I will not accept this. You will propose in a heartfelt, totally sentimental display of sappy perfection, or I will neuter you while you’re sleeping. I may have lost my memory and part of my mind by falling for your stupid ass, but I will not lose my story because you’re smug. I expect a lot more than this, and I won’t settle.”

  That gets me a lot more kissing and some full-body rubbing before he pulls away with a frown.

  “You never told me what scared you, baby.”

  “Oh, uh.” I blush and twist my lips, a little uncertain about admitting that I’m now a big believer in ghosts. “I heard someone whisper my name. I think your house is haunted, Cam,” I whisper, pushing closer when a renewed shiver of fear trembles through me.

  “Ghost?”

  “Yup. I heard it calling me, and I swear I did not imagine it. I gave up a chocolate cupcake hauling ass up here.”

  That’s how seriously creepy it was.

  No more kissing after that, to my utter dismay, but I do fall asleep with a smile, only to wake later to see Cameron locking the doors, the connecting one as well and jamming a chair under the handle.

  I guess he’s taking this seriously then.

  Good, because I meant what I said. I am going to be bait because I refuse to spend any more time worrying about this.

  I have a sick engagement to get ready for and a family to start loving.

  Chapter Thirty Three

  Cam

  “Do you mean to tell me that Mum got a fake text from Millie?”

  I’m about ready to pick myself bald at this point with nothing more than a few well-placed fingers and a frustration that’s killing me. Seems someone lured Mum and Dad away from the house on the pretext of seeing Angelica.

  With them out of the house and that bloody maid taking advantage of Shaw’s good nature, my very soon-to-be wife had been left alone and vulnerable.

  Because I believe her. Someone had been skulking around, moaning her name to scare her. Chances of her
falling the way she’d bolted were high, and that thought just infuriates me even more than anything else does.

  If I hadn’t come home and stayed in the city as I’d planned, she would have been on the floor all fucking night!

  “Cam—?”

  “I need this to stop. Now Griff. You weren’t there; you didn’t see how terrified she was. Can you believe the poor darling thinks the house is haunted by my dead brother?!”

  Shaw has been scuttling around, peeking around corners as if she expects something to appear and jump out at her. She won’t even go upstairs alone anymore and waits for me before even venturing forth to the bloody loo.

  I will not tolerate this a moment longer. My woman is afraid, and I will slay that dragon come hell or high water. I just need to figure out what the hell is going on first, which is apparently bloody impossible because there are no clues to follow.

  I hear a chuckle over the line and roll my eyes when Dougal comes over the speaker in Griff’s place.

  “I know, mate, bloody hilarious that. I caught the poor dear burning a bunch of bloody twigs the other day. Told me it was sage and that she’s not barmy, just hedging her bets in case she’s wrong and a ghoul is indeed floating about.”

  “Stop laughing, you stupid git! It’s not bloody funny. I’m about at my wits end here. She keeps insisting that the only way to get things sorted, if we’re not dealing with the supernatural”—I roll my eyes at that for the hundredth time—“is if she stands as bait.”

  Dead silence to that before someone coughs, and I hear whispering.

  “Oh bloody no. I will not allow my pregnant fiancée to get caught up in this.”

  “But she already is, Cam. She is at the center of this all, and nothing will happen if we don’t make it happen. I think you should arrange a garden wedding for the weekend. Like you so nicely said, we can kill two birds with one stone. You can finally get married, put Aunt Marge out of her misery, and maybe if we’re lucky, we can catch a ghost,” Griff says, sounding too bloody logical for my liking.

  Truth is, I’ve been thinking this very same thing, no matter how much I want to ignore it. I’m a businessman, and I think in the most analytical, straightforward terms. This is possibly the only way around a problem that is now plaguing me.