The Heiress He's Been Waiting For

by Kaitlin O'Riley

  Words could never describe this.

  Suddenly wave after bliss-filled wave of pleasure cascaded over her, radiating from her core and flooding through her entire body from her head to her toes and ending in an explosion of ecstasy. Unable to catch her breath or center her thoughts, she simply floated back to earth, as he continued to thrust within her. He called her name as the same ecstatic sensations gripped him. That she could bring him as much pleasure as he gave to her was a thrilling new sensation.

  Then they both lay still, unmoving, breathing heavily, arms and legs intertwined, her hair tangled around them. Sara couldn’t have moved even if the room were suddenly engulfed in flames.

  He finally kissed her face and gently lifted himself off her. He wrapped her in his arms as if he would never let her go. She clung to him, suddenly afraid to face what came next. Satisfied to just stay there, safe and secure in his strong arms, and not think of later or tomorrow, she burrowed into him. He stroked her hair, languished kisses on her head, her cheek, her hair. Filled with lethargy and a newfound peace, she slowly closed her eyes.

  “Sara.”

  She snuggled closer to him, wishing she had a blanket.

  “Sara,” he whispered, placing little kisses along her cheek.

  Her eyes fluttered open. “What?”

  “We have to get up and get dressed now.”

  “Not yet,” she objected, closing her eyes again. It was so nice. Lying here like this with him. She didn’t want to move.

  “So it wasn’t the brandy at all,” he laughed. “This is just you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re very difficult to move, once you get comfortable. Did you know that? Are you like this first thing in the morning too? Hard to wake up? I bet you are.” His soft laughter made her smile.

  Eyes still closed, she shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “Maybe I am.”

  “Come, my beautiful Sara. We must get up and get dressed.”

  She murmured, “Why?”

  “As much as I would love to spend the rest of the night here with you in my arms like this,” he whispered in her ear, sending thrilling little shivers down her spine, “it’s not a very good idea. There’s a rather large party going on out there, if you haven’t forgotten, and your family may be looking for you, and we’re in a slightly compromising position if someone should walk in.”

  “Fine,” she grumbled unrepentantly. “I suppose you’re right.” She finally opened her eyes. Christopher was staring down at her, his brown eyes tender.

  “You are so beautiful, Sara. I can’t stop looking at you.”

  Feeling inexplicably shy, she looked away. Where were her clothes and how could she reach them? Oh God, how would she get out of this room?

  “Are you sorry?” His voice was low.

  Still looking away, she said, “No. Are you?”

  “Not in a million years would I regret this night with you.”

  Again a little thrill raced through her at his words. It made no sense. The whole night made no sense. But he was right. They should get dressed and get out of there and back to the ball as soon as they could. She was sure to have been missed by now.

  “I don’t regret it either,” she managed to say without looking at him. And oddly enough, she didn’t. She had wanted this. Had wanted him. Had wanted that to happen.

  Slowly she met his gaze.

  He leaned down and kissed her mouth. He caressed her cheek. She longed for . . . something . . . she didn’t know what. Again that overwhelming sadness that had possessed her yesterday in his carriage came over her again. All during their lovemaking there had been no need for words, no reason to speak. They both knew what the other was thinking. It had been all feeling and sensation and instinct. But now, now words needed to be said. Inexplicably, she could not speak. Too many words were lodged in her throat.

  Blinking back tears she began to sit up. She refused to cry again. He sat up too.

  Rising from the sofa, he began to collect his clothes. Watching with wide eyes, she was quite appreciative of his male form as he pulled his trousers on. He really was an extremely good-looking man, even in the dimly lit room. Tall. Muscular. Incredibly masculine, from the curve of his calves to the muscles of his arms and broad shoulders. She could watch him all evening and not grow tired of the sight.

  Wordlessly, he handed her the pale pink chemise and corset, which had been tossed carelessly on the embroidered rug during the heat of passion. Feeling shy and awkward, she stood and began to put them on. Her elegant emerald gown still lay on the floor near the window. Shirtless, he had only his pants on as he moved toward her. Wearing just her corset, she looked up at him.

  “Sara, I know—” he began to say, before she stopped him.

  “Don’t,” she interrupted him with a hitch in her voice, holding up her hand, feeling the sting of tears once more.

  Confused by the roiling emotions inside of her, she feared what he would say. And really, what could he say? That this should never have even happened? She knew that as well as he did. Was he going to apologize for taking her virginity? No. She didn’t want to hear that from him. No recriminations. No regrets. No apologies. She changed her mind. If words weren’t necessary before, then they weren’t necessary now. “Don’t say anything, please, Christopher. I simply can’t bear it.”

  With a silent nod, he pulled her back into his arms. He kissed the top of her head and she reached around and held him tight. This was crazy. Utterly, utterly crazy. But for one last moment, she rested her head on his broad chest, breathing in the warm scent of him, listening to the beat of his heart, taking comfort in being with him.

  Suddenly the door to the drawing room opened.

  And there stood both of Sara’s parents.

  Appalled at the sight before them, Harrison and Juliette Fleming were speechless. Her mother actually shrieked and then covered her face with her hands.

  Before she could stop them, all seven of the swear words that Sara knew came flying right out of her mouth.

  21

  Toeing the Line

  Horrified, Christopher instinctively stood in front of Sara, trying to shield her half-naked body from her parents, not that they couldn’t clearly see what had been going on between them. The evidence was plain. He and Sara were both in a state of undress, with their arms around each other, and the rest of their clothes strewn around the room. There was only one conclusion they could draw and he was quite certain they had drawn it.

  This was not good.

  He wasn’t sure what had shocked him more at the time, the sudden appearance of Sara’s parents or the vile string of curse words that came out of her pretty little mouth.

  Captain Fleming, his face thunderous, said in a tense, imperious voice that left no doubt that the man could command a ship full of sailors, “I’m going to close this door. When I open it again, I want to see you both properly dressed and ready to explain yourselves. If you can. Hopefully, I’ll be calm enough to talk by then without killing you for touching my daughter, Bridgeton.” With that proviso, he and his stunned wife stepped back into the corridor, closing the door forcefully behind them.

  Christopher turned his attention to Sara, whose face had gone from the rosy glow of kissing him to completely ashen. He placed his hands on her shoulders. With her blue eyes wide, she stared up at him in mutual horror.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered in desperation.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said. They were both in serious trouble and there was no denying it.

  Panicked now, she broke away from him and began to hastily pull her clothes on. Her hands trembled as she struggled to roll up her stockings. “I’ve never seen my father so angry with me.”

  He began to dress as well, hurriedly shrugging into his white dress shirt. He certainly didn’t intend for Sara’s mother and father to see him half-naked again. “I’ve never heard such language from a lady in my life, Sara,” he pointed out. “You weren’t kidding me when you sai
d you knew swear words. You swore like a sailor.”

  Sara didn’t answer him. All her attention was focused on getting dressed as quickly as she could. He fastened the back of her ball gown and then he helped her put her long hair back up in a somewhat respectable fashion.

  Again the door swung open and her parents walked in, their expressions understandably grim.

  Christopher slowly lowered his hands away from Sara’s hair. It probably wasn’t a good idea to be touching the captain’s daughter right in from of him. Sara gave him a nervous glance, and he motioned for her to sit on the sofa. Mrs. Fleming sat upon the chair across from them. Christopher joined Sara on the sofa. Captain Fleming remained standing near his wife’s chair.

  The room grew tensely quiet.

  Deciding it was up to him to take responsibility, Christopher spoke first. “Mrs. Fleming, Captain Fleming, there is no excuse for this. I can’t apologize enough for—”

  “You’re damn right you can’t! I should wring your neck right here and now,” Captain Fleming threatened angrily.

  “Father!” Sara cried out in alarm.

  “Really, Harrison, is that kind of talk necessary?” Juliette Fleming murmured, placing a calming hand on her husband’s arm. “Now let’s sit and discuss this rationally, shall we?”

  Captain Fleming was seething. “How can I be rational about this man who was seducing my daughter right in front of me?”

  “Harrison. Sit. Down,” Juliette commanded in a steely tone that brooked no argument. Her blue eyes, so like her daughter’s, sparked with anger and determination.

  With great reluctance, the tall captain yanked a chair over next to his wife’s and sat down. His expression was thunderous and he fumed silently as he crossed his arms over his chest.

  A little taken aback that Captain Fleming had capitulated so quickly, Christopher was impressed with Mrs. Fleming’s technique. He imagined that Juliette Hamilton must have led her husband on a merry chase when they were younger. She was quite beautiful and it was clear from whom Sara inherited her looks. And temperament.

  Juliette Fleming then turned her gaze on Christopher and it felt that she could see right through him. “You were saying, Lord Bridgeton . . . ?”

  “I would just like to apologize first,” Christopher began. “Although I know that it doesn’t change or make up for what happened here, I am very sorry. It was never my intention to harm Sara in any way. I accept all the blame. This is entirely my fault, not hers. I should never have taken advantage of her in such—”

  “Don’t say that!” Sara protested, raising her voice. “It was not all your fault! What happened is just as much my fault as it is yours! I’m so tired of everyone thinking I can’t think or act for myself!”

  Christopher wasn’t going to be able to say a word in this discussion with the way the Flemings interrupted him. But when he looked at Sara, she was visibly upset. He couldn’t blame her. The evening had become a nightmare. He gently put a hand on her arm to comfort her.

  “Get your hand off my daughter.”

  “Harrison,” Mrs. Fleming warned her husband. Then she sighed in weariness and turned her attention back toward them. “Sara, when you start comporting yourself like a dignified adult, we shall treat you like one. Now, Lord Bridgeton, although my husband and I appreciate your apology—”

  Captain Fleming coughed loudly as a way of scorning him.

  Juliette gave him a scathing look. She began again. “Although my husband and I appreciate your apology and the sentiment behind it, there isn’t much else to say. It’s quite clear what happened between the two of you in this room tonight. You have compromised our daughter. So there is only one thing to be done.” She paused for a moment, gazing at him expectantly.

  Christopher couldn’t breathe.

  He knew exactly what Juliette Fleming was suggesting. Hell, he even agreed with her. He’d just taken their daughter’s virginity on a drawing room sofa. What the devil had he been thinking? He should ask for Sara’s hand in marriage. It was the only decent, gentlemanly thing to do. He had to marry her. Nothing would make him happier, but, oh God, what a mess he was in now! Forfeiting the Beckwith fortune would cause him to lose Bridgeton Hall, his home in London, everything.

  Everything was ruined. He was ruined. He’d been an idiot and only had himself to blame. His reckless behavior tonight just cost him everything. How would he support a wife, let alone his sisters and his mother? His stomach roiled with anger. Anger at himself.

  He’d have to somehow explain to Mr. Beckwith that he’d changed his mind and couldn’t marry his daughter after all. This was just disastrous.

  The tension in the room was palpable. Again he glanced at Sara, seated beside him. She was so lovely, her dark hair softly coming loose from the hastily applied pins, her elegant hands folded in her lap. With her head facing down, she would not look at him. He knew she was thinking of Drake and it made him irrationally angry.

  Christopher faced Sara’s parents. He had no choice. Clearing his throat, he began, “I would like to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

  “I accept your offer. We’ll plan the wedding for this Saturday.” Captain Fleming spoke so calmly and rationally that Christopher was confused by the sudden turnaround in his mood. Was there the faintest hint of a smile on his face when he spoke?

  Captain Fleming rose from his chair, his hand outstretched to seal the deal. Christopher stood to meet him. Mrs. Fleming stood as well, a grin on her face. Christopher felt as if he had missed something.

  “Does anyone even care what I think about any of this?” Sara exclaimed, clearly agitated. “Does it matter to anyone in this room that perhaps I have plans of my own?”

  “No, it doesn’t,” her father said, dismissing her while shaking Christopher’s hand.

  “Father,” she implored. “Please, listen to me. This is not what I had—”

  “No, Sara. It’s done,” Captain Fleming said to his daughter, ignoring her protests. “You’ve compromised yourself. There’s no help for it. You’ll marry Lord Bridgeton on Saturday.”

  “Captain Fleming, I must tell you that—” Christopher began to explain his predicament.

  “Father, please! Just listen to me for a moment,” Sara begged, rising from the sofa to better plead her case. “Mother, you must understand my point of view.”

  “Sara, that’s enough,” her mother intoned. “It’s all settled. Lord Bridgeton has done the only honorable thing a gentleman in a situation like this can do and has asked to marry you. And that is exactly what will happen. I know you both must care for each other in order for this to have happened here this evening.” She raised her hand yet again to prevent Sara from speaking, giving her daughter a pointed look. “Have you considered the possibility of a child, Sara?”

  After a short gasp, Sara grew quiet, her cheeks turning scarlet. Clearly, she had not thought about that fact.

  For a moment Christopher’s heart almost stopped completely. He hadn’t had time to consider that possibility yet either, but he certainly should have. He knew better than that and had always taken precautions in the past, but everything had happened too quickly between them this evening. To say the very least, he had not been thinking clearly at all. However, her mother was right. Marrying Sara was the only choice now.

  Nothing this night had turned out the way he expected.

  And now he suddenly found himself engaged to two women at the same time.

  “I have no objection to marrying Sara,” Christopher said, finally breaking the awkward silence. “It’s the right thing to do and I care for her, and with the possibility of a child, of course, there’s nothing else for us to do but marry. However, there is something else I must take care of first before I can marry her. I am already . . .” His voice trailing off, he felt like a fool.

  The three of them looked at him curiously.

  Christopher just had to get it over with. “I’m afraid I’m engaged to someone else already. Our engagement is
going to be announced on Saturday.”

  Another curse word slipped from Sara’s mouth. Her parents were watching them both very carefully.

  “You’re engaged to be married?” Sara cried in utter disbelief, finally looking him in the eye. “Since when?”

  “Since last night,” he said. There was no denying that Sara was angry with him.

  “What?” The look of astonishment on her face only grew. “Whom on earth are you engaged to?”

  He hesitated. “Bonnie Beckwith.”

  Her mouth agape, Sara stared at him in confusion. Then she actually laughed. “You must be jesting!”

  “No. I am not.”

  “When were you going to tell me about this?” she demanded, her hands on her hips, anger replacing her brief amusement.

  He countered with, “When were you going to tell me about Drake?”

  Having no answer, Sara pursed her lips together.

  Christopher turned back to her parents, who both had something akin to amusement on their faces. “So you see, I need a little time to take care of this other matter before I can marry your daughter.”

  Mrs. Fleming murmured rather sympathetically, “Yes, that is understandable, Lord Bridgeton.”

  “It seems to me that if you were engaged to another woman, you certainly shouldn’t have been dallying with my daughter this evening.” Captain Fleming eyed him with clear disapproval. “Just when will you be attending to this ‘other matter’?”

  “First thing in the morning I will speak to her father and withdraw my offer,” Christopher said, squaring his shoulders.

  “Then I shall secure a special license and get things in order. The wedding will take place Saturday at Devon House.” Captain Fleming actually smiled at him.

  Christopher looked toward Sara. She was not smiling at all. In fact, by the set of her jaw, she looked positively furious.