Chapter 52
Had Edwina run from him because she feared him, or had she run because she had feelings for him? The question burned in his mind for a long time. But then everything happened with Paige’s grandfather and all else had taken second place in his life. His first priority: to save his daughter from being swept out of his arms just like his wife had.
He hated God for letting his beloved wife die, and finally realized he’d forgotten that he had a daughter. When she was almost taken away, he confessed his wrong and made peace with the One who had brought Elizabeth to him in the first place. And to have given them a daughter... he’d been twice blessed. Sure, her dying wasn’t planned, but neither had their meeting been a mistake. He knew that now.
He’d come to terms with himself and rested in the fact that God did know what He was doing and that He’d given him his daughter back. And He’d sent Edwina.
Twice this very evening he’d hinted to her, but she seemed not to have noticed. First the “We’re getting married, Edwina” statement. She hadn’t even blinked at that. Evidently she hadn’t read his face. Hadn’t she seen the desire in his eyes to hold her in his arms... to kiss her?
Apparently not because she had missed the point both times. He smiled, now at his desk, the yellow pads forgotten... at least by her. He’d had to pull hard to get her to release them, and he knew she’d remember he still had possession of them, just about the time she was crawling into bed. He chuckled and settled into the chair by the window, snapped on the lamp, and read. He’d best get started because once the lass realized she’d left without her manuscript, she would be back making trouble soon enough.
He read for an hour, turning page after page. She must have fallen asleep because there was no noise about the manor.
Eyes tired, he put the papers down and went to check on Paige. He looked down at his child, dark hair and eyes like her mother’s. He wanted to weep. For the loss of Elizabeth. For the fact he still had his daughter. For Edwina who kept his spirits dancing while his heart was breaking.
Paige’s grandfather had made too many enemies, and for that reason many of them testified against him—employees, former business partners, neighbors, even family members. Thankfully the judge had been sympathetic and understood. The billionaire’s shenanigans and reputation for treating people unkindly had preceded him. Even his money couldn’t buy him honor. Not this time.
He heard a noise. She was about. He turned to head back to his office to intercept the woman.
“Oh, by the way Mr. Dunnegin, Ilana came to the hospital.”
He stopped smiling. “When?”
“The day you left. She came looking for you. She told me you’d sent her to take care of Paige.”
“What?” His temper flared.
“But I sent her away.”
“What did you say to her, lass?”
“I, well, I don’t exactly remember.” Her finger was at her chin. “I think I asked her to leave and to call you. I knew you could handle her.”
“She is not handle able, as you say,” he growled. “She is a vicious woman. I told you she was not the woman I thought her to be.”
“I remembered that.” Edwina raised her voice. “That’s why I told her to leave. I knew you didn’t want her there.”
“Well done, lass. Now what’re ye up to?”
Oh boy, his hands were on his hips and a strange smile rested on his face.
“Needed a drink of water.” She yawned. She held it up for him to see.
The Scot eyed her.
She had gone to bed, then remembered the manuscript. She had to get out of bed, dress again, and think of a way to get it back. She’d done it all right, when he went in to check on Paige, and it lay safely underneath her bed. He’d not heard a thing.
“Well, good night, then. You should be getting to bed. It’s the middle of the night,” she said sleepily, sure the man would go to bed and forget.
She sidestepped him and padded down the hall, locked her door, slipped on her pajamas, and crawled into bed. This had been one long day.
Five minutes had passed before she nearly jumped out of her skin at the banging. “Shh... you’ll wake Paige,” she called.
“Open this door, lass.” His teeth were clenched, she could tell. “I have the key, woman.” Oh brother, what use was it? He had the key. She grabbed her robe, wrapped it around her, unlocked the door, and opened it a crack.
“Get it.”
“What?” She feigned sleepiness.
“You know what.”
“Please, I’m very tired . .. . and you’ve just been on the plane for what? Twelve hours?”
“Don’t change the topic, lass. Ye’re aboot to get a Scot mad.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want that, now would we?” She thought to make light of it and tried to shut the door. She found herself sitting on her behind. He had pushed the door hard enough to toss her backward. “Well, of all the—”
“Where is it?” She sat there dumbfounded. Why would he care about her little story? She verbalized her thoughts.
“Because, lass, I want to know how it ends.”
She started to laugh now. “Is that all? I can tell you how it ends,” she offered.
“I want to read it for myself.” His eyes darted around the room looking for it.
“This is the silliest conversation I’ve ever had. And it’s late.”
“Ye can go back to bed, but I’ll be aboot reading tonight.”
“Okay. Okay. Will you leave me alone then?” Mr. Dunnegin had the decency to look embarrassed.
Surely he had not thrown a childish fit like this before. She’d never thought he’d do such a thing, but then again she’d known him only when he was under great duress.
So this was what he was really like? Well, let him have it. She would deny it all and say he was reading too much into the story to think it was him. She’d laugh and play it off as foolishness.
Still sitting, she got to her knees, crawled over to the bed, and pulled the yellow pads from underneath.
“Should have known.” He grabbed them. “I’m still ye’re employer, and ye’ll do well to remember it, lass.”
“Well, whoop-de-do,” she said to his back, getting up off the floor. She had never said such a thing in her entire life.
Hope you enjoy it, you stubborn Scot.
She has a bit of a temper, the lass does.
He straightened the pads and put them in order, pushed off his shoes with his toes, found where he’d left off, and read. It had taken two more hours, but he was satisfied the lass had written the story about him. His ego flared just a little. So she thought of him as her handsome hero.
It had ended happily. He intended to make her dreams come true.
Now more than ever, he knew he’d been looking in all the wrong places. He’d entered business partnerships making money, traveled, met beautiful women—many who would have taken the position as his wife. But not a one had told him whoop-de-do when he reminded them of his station.
And not a one had gone barefoot everywhere either, losing their shoes at a moment’s notice. Not to mention the lass didn’t know how to button her own blouse.
But she could write. He’d not been able to put the manuscript down, so entangled was he in the telling of the story she wrote.
Cecelia and Spencer were coming tomorrow. Cecelia had forbidden him to tell the lass. She should have minded her business and gone to bed early. He shrugged. Right now he was so elated that the legal problems with Paige’s grand- father were settled, he could not think of sleeping.
He slipped into his daughter’s room and looked down at her for a long time. Soon they would be a family again. That was sure—if the stubborn one would take the cues he was giving her. He smiled. There would be trouble aboot the castle if she was afoot, that was sure.