Staking a Claim (Lost and Found Book 7), page 1
Staking a Claim
By Elizabeth Lennox
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Copyright 2022
ISBN13: 9781950451661
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Any duplication of this material, either electronic or any other format, either currently in use or a future invention, is strictly prohibited, unless you have the direct consent of the author.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
Excerpt from “The Sheik’s Marriage Contract:
Prologue
Revenge.
The need for revenge had fueled him for so long, it had become a part of his personality.
Tossing the folder from DP Investigations onto his desk, Callum MacGreggor contemplated his next move. Turning in the leather chair, he gazed out at the skyline beyond but he didn’t see the buildings he owned. He didn’t calculate the next property he might acquire or the construction needed on his current properties to bring them to the point where he could sell them for a profit. At this moment, his mind was focused on only one thing.
Revenge.
After years, decades, of planning and plotting, researching and waiting…soon, he’d gain his revenge. His eyes dropped to the folder. The information he’d just read would give him that revenge. It would take a bit of charm, but Callum had learned to charm early and well. A brutal life had taught him when to be charming and when to be tough. He’d figured out how to weigh a person’s priorities and how to use their weaknesses against them. He’d learned how to tell when someone was lying and when they were telling the truth, even if they didn’t mean to reveal that information. And an even more powerful tool, Callum had learned how to use the system to his advantage.
He’d learned all of that in the tough, unforgiving streets, fighting for his next meal, barely sleeping for fear that someone would sneak up on him and steal what was his, or worse.
He wasn’t angry with the person who had shoved him into that life. That lying, cheating bastard had forced Callum to learn how to survive. Looking around his office, he knew that he’d never have gotten so far, accumulated so much wealth and power, if he hadn’t been forced to survive on the filthy, brutal streets.
No, his revenge wasn’t because of the loss of his home and the lessons in survival that had been forced upon him. His plans weren’t to avenge the loss of his childhood. He was going to punish the person he considered responsible for his parents’ death.
Chapter 1
Surprises were few. After years of working twenty hour days, Callum MacGreggor was rarely, if ever, surprised.
But the view in front of him was…surprising.
Flowers in full bloom surrounded lush trees, bushes that complemented the landscape and various textures from unusual plants increased the visual interest. Colors, textures, and scents enveloped him. As he paused, even the sounds were surprising. Birds sang, crickets chirped, and the wind whispered softly through the leaves of the towering trees.
And yet, none of that was nearly as impressive as the woman standing in this magical oasis. As he watched, she reached forward, straining to pull something out of the ground, then leaning back to toss the offending weed into a wheelbarrow. Then she said something. He wasn’t sure who the woman was talking to, but nor did he really care. She was lovely!
No, lovely was too tame of a word for her. Reddish blond hair shimmered in the sunshine, her skin turning a soft pink from the abusive rays. She should be wearing a hat, he thought. That skin…it was beautiful and his fingers itched to touch that softness, discover the texture and temperature, know if she had freckles or just alabaster beauty.
Again, she spoke and he looked around, his eyes narrowing behind his sunglasses as he tried to locate who she was talking to. But he didn’t see anyone.
His eyes returned to her as she laughed. Laughed? Once again, he looked around. She was gardening. What was funny about gardening?
Nothing! Gardening was mucking around in the dirt. Callum hated gardening and paid a significant amount of money to his expensive gardeners just so that he never had to see dirt under his fingernails again.
Who the hell was this woman talking to? Who was making her laugh?
Jealousy unexpectedly surged inside of him but Callum tamped it down. Jealousy? That was ridiculous! What the hell could he be jealous of? This woman was his enemy! She would become the tool he would use to extract his revenge! She was the one obstacle in the way of his plan to crush the man who had killed his parents!
Stepping forward, he heard the pea gravel crunch under his foot. The noise caught the woman’s attention. He froze as she looked up, the weight of her gaze like a gut-punch, stopping his breath for a moment.
How the hell could she do this to him? He was tough and hardened by life! He’d grown up in the streets, fighting for his next meal, scratching and saving, living in an abandoned warehouse until he had enough money to find decent shelter. And even after he’d saved enough, he’d remained hidden in that warehouse, saving more of his hard-earned money.
Saving it for this moment!
“Can ah help ye?” the soft voice asked, her Scottish accent brushing over his skin like a sensuous whisper as she stood up.
Callum stood there, staring as the woman blinked, her long, dark lashes fluttering in the sunshine.
Hat. The damn woman needed a hat!
He spotted a hat on one of the benches. He wondered why it was pointlessly resting on the bench instead of protecting all of that glorious, pale skin.
With a fury he hadn’t known he was capable of, Callum stalked over to the bench, grabbed the hat, and stormed over to the woman. Hiding his anger at her callous treatment of her lovely skin, he handed her the hat, bowing slightly as if presenting a coronation crown. “The sun is extraordinarily hot today,” he said by way of an explanation.
The woman blinked up at him, but she accepted the hat. Unfortunately, she didn’t put it on.
Grinding his teeth, he snatched the hat back and plunked it on her head, then adjusted the angle of the brim so that it covered more of her delicate skin. With a nod of approval, he straightened and backed up a step.
“I’m Callum MacGreggor,” he announced.
The woman stared back at him and he was struck by how short she was. The information he’d been given had put her height at five feet, five inches. That wasn’t necessarily short for a woman, but for some reason, this lady seemed smaller.
“MacGreggor?” she parroted, her soft, pink lips forming a soft O in surprise. “As in, Castle MacGreggor?”
Callum nodded sharply. He glanced behind him and, for the first time, noticed the ancient, stone castle rising proud and strong. The gardens around the castle had blinded him to the building, which was startling. Castles were built to intimidate, to show grandeur and strength, power and the financial acumen of the laird and lady.
However, it was the gardens surrounding the castle that caught one’s attention. The colors and splendor of these gardens were more astounding and eye-catching than the magnificence of the castle.
He realized that the woman was still waiting for an explanation. “I was born here, actually.”
Those full, pink lips curled into a smile of welcome. “Aye?” she gasped, stepping forward and pulling off the hat. Several curls danced at the gesture, but Callum ignored them, focusing on her exposed skin.
“Yes. I was just–”
“Come inside!” she replied, interrupting his explanation. “Oh, it’s so wonderful to finally meet someone who lived here before! Ah canna tell you how many questions ah have!”
Callum was startled. He hadn’t expected friendliness. Didn’t she realize that he was the enemy? That he was about to steal her home from her?
The woman needed a keeper!
And she needed to put the damn hat back on!
When she registered his hesitation, she smiled up at him, her sky blue eyes sparkling, clasping his hand with both of hers. “Please? Won’t ye come inside and have some tea?”
He listened, enjoying her soft brogue. It wasn’t the harsh accents of some who had lived in the highlands all their lives. Instead, it was just a soft, occasional rolling of her vowels that captured his attention.
She’d already taken several steps, then turned to look over her shoulder. “Please?”
He couldn’t deny her request. A cup of tea wouldn’t be a violation of his vow, would it? Revenge could be had over a cup of tea!
“I would enjoy that,” he finally replied, causing that lovely smile to brighten. And that, in turn, caused his body to tighten as lust, unexpected and unappreciated, surged through him. “Who were you talking to a moment ago?” he asked as he stepped forward.
The woman paused and looked up at him, those pink lips parting slightly. She glanced back over her shoulder at the weed filled wheelbarrow. “Oh! Well…” she stopped and shrugged. “I wasna…I just…the plants.” She stopped and looked around, then up at him. “I just give them a bit of encouragement.”
Then she walked on, her pace a bit faster now. As she reached a side entrance to the castle, understanding dawned for him. The woman spoke to her plants? No, that wasn’t exactly what she’d said. The daft woman encouraged them!
Had he entered Bedlam?
She glanced back at him and Callum came forward, easily eliminating the distance between them. She smiled again, the worry in her blue eyes melting away as she held the old, wooden door for him. “I normally wouldna take guests through this mess,” she explained as she wove her way through tools and buckets, some new plastic ones and some that looked to be more than a century old, made of wood and no longer water tight. “But since ye know everything about this castle, you’ve most likely been down here before.” She hurried over to a small sink and washed her hands. “How old were ye when ye moved out of the castle?”
“I was fifteen,” he replied, not bothering to explain that he hadn’t “moved” out of the castle.
Fiona paused, her hand resting on the staircase handle. “Fifteen?” she repeated, startled by the news. “Why did ye leave? Why did ye’re parents force ye to change schools at such a difficult age?”
The tall, impossibly handsome man standing in front of her stiffened and, immediately, Fiona knew there was more to this story than she’d been told. This terrifying man was different from any other man she’d ever met.
It wasn’t just his height or the evident strength in his arms and shoulders. It wasn’t the fact that he didn’t have a slight or obvious paunch to his stomach. No, the flat stomach and lean hips were nice…extremely nice…but that wasn’t what distinguished him from the many other men of her acquaintance.
There was a personal strength inside of him. Something whispered to her that this man was dangerous. Her instincts, honed by years of lies and deceit and perfected by a profession that relied upon ferreting out the good, the bad, and the ugly, warned her away.
And yet, she was also oddly compelled. There was something, a magnetic force, which lured her closer. She suddenly understood how a predator hypnotized its prey. This man, with dark-as-night eyes that watched her with an intensity that caused a shiver of awareness to run through her, was more than just a predator.
In that same moment, he reached out and touched her. It was just a brief touch, but Fiona felt it all the way down to her toes. Startled, she looked up at him. Another shiver rolled through her when she saw heat mirrored in those dark depths. Her mouth softened and she felt her stomach twist into knots …everything inside of her was hyperaware of her femininity and compared it to his tougher outer shell.
He was so strong and powerful. He could crush her!
As soon as her mind worked through that, she stiffened, her spine straightened and she remembered that she was strong. She had power. Years ago, she’d vowed never to let a man hurt her. Too often, men underestimated her.
Never again.
“Tea,” she sighed, relieved for the excuse to go up the stairs. “This way, Mr. MacGreggor.”
“Please, call me Callum,” he said as they went up the stairs.
Fiona cleared her throat and tried to speak, but the stairway was so narrow, he seemed to take up all the oxygen in the small space. So instead, she simply nodded and tried to ignore the odd fluttering of her heart as he came up behind her.
Once she was in the kitchen, she took a slow, deep breath and turned, pasting on what she hoped was a professional, calm smile. “What kind of tea do ye prefer?”
Fiona walked over to the shelf that contained all of her favorite teas. “I have blueberry, raspberry, orange spice, or…” she stopped, peering at the man over her shoulder. But the stunned, almost revolted, expression made her laugh. “Oh my! None of the above, ahm guessin’?”
She watched as his arms, big, muscular arms, crossed over his massive chest. For a brief moment, she was transfixed by those arms. And his shoulders. Oooh, and his height! Goodness, her sleepy little village didn’t grow men like this! Not even close!
“Do you need help?” he prompted, those dark eyes dropping to the glass jar in her hands.
Fiona startled, looked down and realized that she was holding her favorite blueberry tea. She gasped and spun around, carefully placing the jar of tea back on the shelf. She’d installed shelves along the wall and kept her tea in large, glass jars so she could easily see when one started to run low. “Right. Tea.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Would you prefer coffee?”
“That would be great, thanks.”
She smiled and nodded, then walked over to the stove, grabbed the tea pot, and filled it with water. “What brought you back to Scotland after so long?” she asked. It was comforting to go about the business of making tea and coffee. The movements were familiar and eased the strange sensations that were zinging through her stomach.
“I’m actually here to ask if you would sell the estate back to me.”
The teapot crashed onto the “eye” of the stove, the lid rattling loudly. Grabbing the heavy pot with both hands, she straightened it on the stove and turned to look up at him. “Well,” she sighed, rubbing her hands along her jeans. She wasn’t sure what to say. She licked her lips unconsciously. “Hmmm…I appreciate your honesty, Mr. MacGreggor.” She tilted her head slightly. “You Americans! So direct! Ye just come oot and say whatever’s on ye’re mind, eh?”
He shrugged one of those massive shoulders. “It tends to make things easier,” he replied, acting as if he hadn’t just rocked her entire world.
“I’m sorry that ye came all this way for nothin’ then. The estate isna fer sale.” She lowered her eyes, not wanting him to see the truth. Well, her words were accurate enough. The estate wasn’t for sale. More’s the pity. Unfortunately, Fiona knew that she didn’t really have the right to tell him that. She didn’t own the estate, despite…well, she would eventually own the property. It was her right. She’d fixed everything on this estate, all of the problems, the crumbling walls and broken appliances, the sagging roofs and replaced every one of the missing stones! It had been her money and her ingenuity that had saved the castle and the lands around it, not to mention the small, nearby village, from falling to ruin.
The man’s features didn’t change. They were still hard and uncompromising. Determined. “In my experience, everything is for sale, Ms. Reid.” His eyes sparkled with determination. “I just have to find the right price.”
Her stomach lurched and she wondered if he was right.
“Or the right currency,” he continued, his tone becoming ominous.
Turning away, she fiddled with the jar of coffee grounds as her mind tried to process his last comment. “Well, good luck to ye.”
He laughed and the sound…goodness the sound of his laughter felt like a warm caress. She glanced over her shoulder, thinking to tell the man that she preferred “ominous”. Somehow, the warmth in his laughter seemed even more dangerous to her peace of mind.
“I’ve never relied upon luck, Ms. Reid. She’s a fickle lady.” She felt him step closer and caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye. “I prefer to use logic and…other…incentives to get what I want.”
Oh my, those were dangerous and challenging words. She looked up at him. “I’m guessin’ that some of ye’re incentives are manipulations, am ah right?” Angry now, she poured the boiling water into the French press where she’d already added the coffee grounds. They’d simmer for a few moments. She turned away from him and reached for her blueberry tea. No need to hide her true self from this man. Disappointment was like a knife, stabbing at her soul. Finally, she’d met a man who intrigued her and he turned out to be just like all the others.
“Manipulation is such a nasty term.” His finger reached out and she felt the singe of his touch along her neck as he pushed a lock of hair off her shoulder. “I prefer to use other incentives. Generally, both parties in my negotiations walk away with something that they want and need.”
Her eyes briefly flicked over his chest, more visible now that his arms weren’t covering his rippling muscles. “So ye’re not eh bully?” she asked, her tone indicating that she’d already made up her mind before he even answered.
