The Heiress He's Been Waiting For

by Kaitlin O'Riley

  “Oh, I am going back to that bookshop tomorrow, make no mistake about that,” Lucy uttered in the breathy voice that drove him wild. She began unfastening the buttons at the front of her high-necked gown, her blue eyes fixed on him. “And she’ll be there, waiting. I know she will. Because she loves you. And she’ll have a note for me that says she wants to see you right away.”

  Lucy could do that to him. She had that power. She could drive him to despair in one minute and then make him believe anything was possible in the next breath. She could seduce him and make him forget everything, everything but her, just as she was doing now. Alexander hated her for it and loved her for it. His mouth grew dry as he watched her elegant fingers opening the front of her gown until he could see the swelling curves of her ample breasts spilling over the top of the black corset she wore underneath.

  “How can you be so sure she’ll be there?” Alexander demanded of her. “And still want to see me? Let alone go through with an elopement?” He wasn’t even sure anymore, but he needed that reassurance from Lucy.

  She raised the ruffled skirt of her violet gown and placed her shapely leg on the table. Running her hands up and down the length of her long leg, she unfastened the garter that held her stocking. In a languorous motion, she began to roll down the black silk stocking as she spoke, revealing her pale, creamy skin. He longed to run his tongue over it. With a graceful swing of her legs, she placed her other leg on the table and begin to remove that stocking as she spoke.

  “Oh, I can be sure. I’m a woman, if you haven’t noticed, Drakey. I know how women think. And our little heiress is a good girl. She’s promised to love you, so she’ll be there. Even if she may be torn between you both. And when you marry her, you had better get her with child as soon as possible. Then the parents can’t get rid of you. And when you do, you’ll think of me the whole time, won’t you?”

  He nodded wordlessly. He would do whatever Lucy wanted him to do.

  After a pause, she instructed him with a wicked gleam in her eyes. “Now, remove those trousers and come and kiss me.”

  Lucy had made an interesting point, but Alexander had no time to entertain it. For she was about to make him forget everything but her. Which was just how she liked it. After undoing the front of his pants, he lifted her onto the table rather roughly. He brought his mouth down on hers, grabbing a fistful of her thick blond hair. She squealed in delight and wrapped her long legs around his waist.

  “Tell me you want me,” she commanded, her voice husky with desire.

  “I want you,” he said between gritted teeth. God, how he wanted her. She was all he wanted.

  “Tell me how much you want me, Drakey.”

  “More than anyone. More than all the money in the world.” His breathing was coming in short gasps as he thrust into her as hard as he could. She moaned and the sound made him dizzy with wanting her.

  “And you love me better than Sara Fleming?”

  “Yes,” he ground out. “You know I love you. You’re the only one I love. The only one I ever will love or want.”

  “And you’d do anything for me?” she breathed close to his ear, sending shivers down his spine. The small, elegant table groaned under the weight of the two of them.

  “Anything you want me to do, Lucy.” He thrust harder as she moved her hips to meet him. “Anything, anything for you.” The crazy thing was, he meant it. He truly did. He would do anything for her.

  “Promise me?” she whispered.

  He lost himself in her, thrusting in and out. She was everything to him. “I promise. I swear I would do anything for you. Anything you want.”

  “I want to make Sara Fleming suffer. I hate her and I have hated her from the moment I met her. And we are going to torment her and make her life miserable when she’s your wife? Aren’t we?” she said, digging her sharp little fingernails into his back.

  “I’ll do whatever you want,” he panted through clenched teeth.

  “Wouldn’t it be convenient then, Drakey, if Sara Fleming were to meet with a terrible accident after you were married? Perhaps as soon as she has your child?”

  He closed his eyes in bliss. He could have all the Flemings’ millions and keep Lucy, maybe even convince her to marry him. And that spoiled captain’s daughter would get just what she deserved for cheating on him. It was the best he could imagine. He groaned as pleasure washed over him in a heated rush. “Yes, oh God, yes!”

  Lucy screamed his name, which brought him more pleasure than anything.

  17

  Cast Off

  “I was going to suggest a hand of cards, but you seem miserable this evening, my friend,” said Phillip Sinclair, the Earl of Waverly, a bit of concern in his voice.

  Christopher Townsend answered with a weary sigh, “Because I am.”

  He’d done it. He’d actually done it.

  Earlier this evening he had offered for Bonnie Beckwith’s hand in marriage, and her father had rewarded him most generously for doing so. They’d agreed to dowry terms and, surprisingly, Alfred Beckwith hadn’t balked when Christopher revealed that his earldom was in dire financial straits. The man seemed to take it in stride. It was merely the price he had to pay to make his daughter a countess. Contracts were being drawn up tomorrow.

  Now Christopher would be able to pay off his father’s debts, set Bridgeton Hall on the road to solvency, make the necessary repairs, and care for his sisters. It was what any responsible man in his position would do. It was the most rational, most reasonable, most financially sound course of action. Marriage was solely a business transaction, as Mr. Beckwith pointed out, rather surprisingly given the fact that it was his daughter who was being traded. It was a transfer of assets and an investment in the future. Everyone would get what they wanted. Bonnie would get her title. The Beckwiths would get their daughter successfully married and secure an entrée into more exclusive social circles. And Christopher would get the money to save his estate and support his family. It suited all their needs quite perfectly.

  Christopher should feel elated.

  Yet, here he was depressed beyond belief, drinking whiskey with his oldest friend. After an uncomfortable supper with the Beckwith family earlier, he had gone to his gentleman’s club, desperately needing a strong drink and not to be alone with his thoughts.

  Phillip raised a brow. “What’s wrong?”

  Christopher could not even begin to explain that he’d basically just gotten engaged to a woman he couldn’t bear being in the same room with. Because then he would be required to explain why he had to do this and he still was not able to admit his financial problems. The shame was far too great. Too humiliating.

  Then there was what happened with Sara Fleming that very afternoon.

  The day had been a disaster from the very start.

  His intention in going to the bookshop to see Sara had been just as he had explained to her. Knowing that he was offering for Bonnie Beckwith this evening, he had wanted to clear the air between Sara and him. He also felt the need to apologize for taking advantage of her in the library and his callous behavior toward her at the Cabots’ ball. Sara was entitled to that much from him. He also thought Sara deserved to know he was about to become engaged as well. He would make amends and then he would put what happened with her behind him and focus on his upcoming marriage with a clear conscience.

  Yes, that had been the plan. Simple. Straightforward.

  He certainly hadn’t planned on seducing her in his carriage. And he couldn’t even blame the brandy this time. For either of their behavior. It was entirely his fault. What had come over him?

  It was her tears that set him off. He couldn’t bear the sight of her crying and the instinct to comfort her overwhelmed him. And then once he had her in his arms, well then...

  He didn’t know what the hell happened when they were alone together. It was as if all reason and propriety ceased to exist. All that mattered was the two of them.

  Being with Sara that afternoon in the ca
rriage had been the most erotic and sensual encounter he’d ever experienced. And that was saying something. She’d been so beautiful and sweet and willing. She did something to him. Made him feel things. Made him wish he could have her as his. Made him long for a life with her. Which was just torturous because it could never happen.

  He needed to marry money. She was determined to marry her American gentleman.

  And yet she was all Christopher thought about.

  Despite how wrong what happened between them today was, it had felt so perfectly natural to be with Sara. It was as if they could read each other’s thoughts, anticipate each other’s desires. They understood each other. Liked being together. He’d been with other women before in his life. But not like that. Nothing like what he felt with Sara Fleming. Not even close.

  Still, he shouldn’t have done that to her. He hadn’t even been able to tell her about his upcoming engagement because he simply could not utter the words, for they had lodged in his throat. He’d said absolutely nothing. It was so wrong. Everything was wrong. Which brought him back to his friend’s question of concern. What’s wrong?

  Christopher let out a heavy sigh. Everyone was going to find out soon enough anyway. The Beckwiths were wasting no time and making an engagement announcement on Saturday. This would be a short engagement. He would likely be a married man by the end of August.

  He might as well get it over with.

  He said to Phillip in a quiet voice, “I got engaged today.” The words sounded as horrible aloud as they had felt within.

  “If you say so!” Phillip guffawed carelessly with a wide grin and a dismissive wave of his hand. “You had me believing you there for a second.”

  “No. I really did get engaged this evening. It’ll be announced Saturday.”

  Christopher watched the expression on Phillip’s face turn from amusement to confusion. Then complete disbelief. “You’re joking, Bridgeton, aren’t you?”

  “I’m afraid not.” He drank the whiskey, needing the fortification. “I’m quite serious actually.”

  “I don’t understand . . . You got engaged today?” Phillip was baffled. “But why? And more importantly, to whom?”

  “It’s a rather long story. And my future bride is . . .” Christopher paused, hardly able to bring himself to say her name aloud. “. . . Miss Bonnie Beckwith.”

  Letting loose a relieved smile, Phillip howled loudly. “Well, now I definitely know you’re jesting!”

  Christopher remained quiet. Unsmiling. Letting the news sink in. If only it were all a big joke. Unfortunately, the joke was on him.

  Slowly the laughter stopped and the smile left Phillip’s face. He stared at Christopher, eyes wide. “Wait. You are serious, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.” With a quick nod, he confirmed Phillip’s worst suspicions. “Care to congratulate me?”

  “Hell, Bridgeton, what’d you go and do something like that for?” Phillip’s incredulous expression was tinged with something akin to horror. “Surely you’re not in love with a chit like that?”

  “God no. Of course not.” Christopher shook his head. “But she’s a nice girl, from a respectable family. We suit each other well enough, I guess. Most marriages start off this way. It will be fine.” At least that was what he hoped. Yet when he looked at the long span of years ahead of him, with this particular woman tied to his side, a sickening dread crept over him.

  “Well, hell . . .” Phillip was utterly dumbfounded. “I just had no idea you were in the market for a wife just now.”

  “It has to be done eventually. You know how it is. We have to marry, carry on the line, and all that.” Christopher downed the remainder of his drink.

  “I know, but still . . .” Phillip protested with a shake of his head. “I know her father’s got buckets of money, but she’s not worth it. What’s the big rush? We’re young yet. You have plenty of time to find a bride you love . . . or even like a little . . .”

  “It has to do with family reasons.”

  “You’ve never mentioned that before.” Phillip’s brows drew together in confusion. “Was this something your father arranged before he died?”

  If his father hadn’t left a mountain of debt and mortgaged the estate to the brink of bankruptcy, then Christopher could have had his choice of bride. So in a sense, yes, his father had arranged this. “You could say that.”

  “Oh. I see.” Yet clearly Phillip was still just as befuddled as before. “Well, I understand now why you’re miserable.” He called for a refill of their glasses from one of the servants. “We’re definitely drinking more tonight, Bridgeton. Whether we’re celebrating or commiserating your engagement.”

  The two were quiet while their drinks were brought to them.

  Christopher rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, hoping to ease the tension. It had been quite a day, going from heaven with Sara Fleming to hell with Bonnie Beckwith in a span of a few hours. Yet he couldn’t wish away or regret what had happened with Sara, in spite of knowing that it never should have occurred in the first place. He’d enjoyed it too much and he knew she had too.

  Phillip finally spoke a bit hesitantly. “Bridgeton, maybe I’m out of line with this, but I can’t help thinking there was something between you and my cousin.”

  Christopher remained silent.

  “Wasn’t there?” Phillip prodded. “You both denied that anything happened that night of the storm, but I had a sense there was something between the two of you in the library. You and Sara seemed to . . . really like each other. There was an air of intimacy or something about you both that night. I know I sound like an idiot, but I was rather happy to see it.”

  And then, Christopher just said it out loud for the first time. “I might as well confess that I’m in love with her.”

  Phillip whistled low. “That makes your engagement news even more awful.”

  Christopher grimaced. “There’s no hope for it. Sara is determined to marry her man from America.”

  Phillip sighed. “Yes, I am aware of that, but he’s not here and you are. My aunt and uncle don’t approve of him and took measures to prevent it, as I’m sure you’ve surmised. But I don’t think coming to London has deterred Sara in the least.” He paused and raised an eyebrow. “I was hoping perhaps you’d have helped her change her mind on that score.”

  “What is it her parents find so disreputable about him?”

  Phillip shrugged. “They haven’t said anything to me about him, but I know they’ve been having him investigated. My mother said something about getting proof to show to Sara, whatever that means. So I’ve been staying out of the whole affair, to be honest. The important thing to me is that I love my cousin and want only what will make her happy. Whether it’s the chap from New York. Or you.” He gave him a pointed look. “Because I noticed something between the two of you and thought that’d be nice. You and my cousin together.”

  Yes. That would be nice. Being married to Sara. Being a part of this wonderfully large and loving family. Having Sara by his side every day. Having her in his bed every night. Raising a family of their own together. He could picture it all with a clarity that surprised him. And it made him infinitely sad to know it would never come to pass.

  Phillip let loose a prolonged sigh. “There must be something we can do about this. Break off the engagement to Beckwith. Don’t do this to yourself, Bridgeton.”

  Christopher said nothing. What could he say? He had no choice except to marry Bonnie Beckwith. “Sara’s hopelessly caught up with the American.”

  Phillip added, “Yes, I noticed that as well. She got a letter from him a few days ago and seemed quite happy about it.”

  “Yes, I am aware,” Christopher said with a grimace.

  “What has she told you about him?”

  “She hasn’t said much. Just that she’s in love with him and wants to marry him. Apparently, he is coming for her.”

  Phillip shook his head. “Well, this should be interesting. I don’t see Uncle Har
rison taking too kindly to that.”

  “I just want her to be safe,” Christopher said, and he meant it. “I hope this man is worthy of a woman like your cousin. She’s quite special.”

  “She is at that,” Phillip agreed. “Even when she was a little girl. She always managed to be the life of the party and was always able to get her own way.”

  Christopher tried to imagine Sara as a pretty child, with her soft, dark curls, flashing blue eyes, and laughing smile. He’d bet she was quite a handful.

  “Good evening, boys. Up to no good, are you?”

  Startled, Christopher looked up as three older gentlemen joined them. It was just what he needed to top off his day. Sara’s father, Captain Harrison Fleming, took a seat in one of the brown leather armchairs while her two uncles, the Marquis of Stancliff and the Duke of Rathmore, took seats at the table.

  “Father!” Phillip said with a welcoming grin. “I didn’t know you and Uncle Harrison and Uncle Jeffrey were going to be here this evening. I thought it was past bedtime for the likes of old men like you.”

  “We’re not as old as you think,” Lucien Sinclair, the Marquis of Stancliff, said to his son with a mischievous grin.

  Christopher knew that Phillip’s father was married to Colette, the eldest of the five Hamilton sisters, and Sara’s father was married to the second oldest sister. And Jeffrey Eddington, the Duke of Rathmore, was married to Yvette, the youngest. The two other uncles, Quinton Roxbury and Declan Reeves, married to the third and fourth Hamilton sisters respectively, were not there this evening.

  Keeping track of Sara’s family tree took some doing. But since he’d met each of them that night at Devon House, he thought he had it all figured out. He’d gathered that the three men had been friends since back in their bachelor days and he found it rather amusing that they’d all married one of the Hamilton sisters.

  Christopher shook hands with them, feeling more than a little guilty when Captain Fleming clapped him on the shoulder good-naturedly. If the captain had any idea what Christopher had done with his daughter just hours ago, he’d call him out right there. And Christopher knew he deserved it.