Marrying His Runaway Heiress

by Therese Beharrie

  ‘No,’ she said defensively. ‘It’s never happened before.’

  ‘Guess I’m wrong then.’

  ‘Not entirely. I mean, I could be better about...’ She trailed off. ‘This is not a therapy session.’

  ‘It’s a hell of a lot cheaper than a therapy session,’ he said with a small smile.

  ‘Yeah, I only had to sell my singledom to you. Ooh,’ she said when he opened his mouth, ‘was that too far? Did I make you feel uncomfortable?’

  ‘No.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘I am wondering about your sense of humour. That was...dark.’

  She laughed. ‘Best you know that now before we really get stuck into this marriage thing.’

  He smiled, but didn’t reply, and they sat drinking their beverages in companionable silence.

  ‘I’m sorry I worried you,’ she said softly. ‘I wasn’t thinking about you... It’ll take some time, but I’ll get there, I’m sure.

  ‘If it makes you feel any better,’ he said in the same tone of voice, ‘I wasn’t thinking about you either. I should have known marrying me when you had telling your father hanging over your head would be hard.’

  ‘It wasn’t—’

  ‘You didn’t want to sit on my lap yesterday because of it.’ His eyebrows rose. ‘Wasn’t the respectability about that?’

  ‘Well,’ she said, frowning. ‘I was doing a little more than sitting on your lap, Micah.’

  ‘I don’t remember that.’

  There was a challenge in his voice that switched the atmosphere in the room from comfortable to...something else. She couldn’t describe what it was, exactly, but it felt dangerous. Not in a you might get hurt way, but in an adrenaline makes you see life differently way. Suddenly she was aware of the breeze fluttering through the sliding door he hadn’t closed. It was a warm night, uncommonly so for the season, so the wind only felt seductive.

  She could have been projecting since she also just noticed Micah had unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves. It exposed delicious skin that she wanted to touch. And if she touched, she was certain she would end up wanting more...

  ‘Well,’ she said again, setting the empty teacup on the table, ‘I can’t blame you. I hardly remember it myself. Not the way you touched or kissed me here—’ she traced the skin at her neck as he’d done with a finger ‘—or here.’ She touched her midriff, and felt the lace material beneath it.

  She wanted to take it off, to offer Micah this piece of her she’d kept guarded for as long as she could remember. But that felt too rash, too brazen. Especially after she’d exposed her emotions to him.

  Except that made her feel more connected to him. It made her want to be rash, brazen. In the end, she settled for loosening her hair and fluffing the curls. His eyes followed the movement, and his fingers twitched. He wanted to touch them. She wanted him to touch them.

  ‘I don’t remember that at all,’ he said, setting his own glass down. He stood. Began unbuttoning his shirt. ‘I should probably get ready for bed. It’ll be a long day tomorrow.’

  He pulled the shirt off, revealing the body she’d drooled over earlier that day.

  Damn him. He was winning.

  ‘We both should.’ She stood and unbuttoned her trousers. Heaven only knew where the modesty she’d felt seconds ago had gone to. Her competitiveness had consumed it.

  Her lust had devoured it.

  Rash and brazen indeed.

  ‘Is there just this one bed?’ she asked, walking past him as she shimmied the trousers over her hips. She’d worn the appropriate underwear for white trousers. She hadn’t realised how appropriate it would be for her wedding night. Was that by sheer force of will or ignorance?

  ‘I...er... I didn’t think I needed to...’

  His words were slow, stammering. She turned around.

  ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘No.’

  But his eyes were sweeping up and down her body. When they rested on her face, the hunger there threatened to steal her breath. The only reason it didn’t was because she felt the echo of it inside her. She was playing a game with him, but the truth of it was that she wanted him. Not because of the way he looked without a shirt on, or because of how he wore a suit, or because he looked like the models she’d never had the common sense to conjure.

  She wanted him because she wanted to be close to him. She wanted to feel that trust they’d built in a new way. He thought about her as no one had before. He was considerate and cautious, and he wanted her to be independent, to keep her own mind and make her own choices. Despite what he wanted.

  It was hugely different from the conditions they’d met under. Or was it? Micah hadn’t known her then. He’d been on his own for the longest time, and he didn’t know how to think about other people. He hadn’t learnt that from his mother since she hadn’t shown that to him. So he’d emulated what he saw and did what he had been taught. Then Elena had come along, and communicated that honesty, that respect, were important. He’d immediately adhered to that. Though no one had taught him how to consider someone else, he’d done it for her.

  That was the man she wanted to make love with. And suddenly her hesitancy, and perhaps even her shame at wanting it, melted away.

  ‘Elena,’ he whispered. ‘You’re so beautiful.’

  She bit her lip. ‘I don’t think you’re supposed to say that. Not if you want to win.’

  He closed the space between them, his arms resting on her hips. When she didn’t shift, the grip of his hands tightened. ‘I don’t know what competition we were in, but I’m pretty sure I’m winning doing exactly this.’

  She circled her arms around his neck. ‘I used to think your charm was annoying.’

  His head reared back slightly. ‘What?’

  She chuckled. ‘You always knew the right thing to say.’

  ‘And that was annoying?’

  ‘Yes. Because it didn’t seem genuine. It seemed...practised.’

  ‘I do not practise my charm.’

  Again, she laughed at his indignation. ‘Of course not. I just meant... It felt like something you had to do. It didn’t sound like something you wanted to do.’ Her eyes dropped to his lips. ‘Now, I know that everything you say comes from you.’ She brushed her thumb over his bottom lip. ‘The real you, not the person you think you have to be.’

  ‘Elena,’ he whispered. ‘Let me kiss you.’

  She lifted her head to his in response.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  HE WOKE UP as the sun hit the curtains, the thin material barely keeping the rays of light out. But he didn’t mind. He was waking up to a new life, a new world, it felt like. The reason for it lay with her head on his chest, her curls tickling his chin.

  Micah ran his finger up and down her spine, his body responding to the touch as much as it did the memories of the night before. He couldn’t help but to think about it. To think of her, beneath him, as they made love for the first time. The complete trust on her face, flushed with pleasure. He liked to think he’d earned that flush with the attention he’d lavished on her. The worship of her body—her breasts, her thighs, what lay in between.

  When she stirred beside him, he was ready to make new memories.

  ‘Hmm,’ she said as he shifted to face her. ‘Morning.’

  He pressed a kiss to her neck. ‘Good morning.’

  Her head fell back. ‘I think I read an article about this once.’

  His kisses made the trail back up until he was kissing behind her ear, a spot he’d discovered she enjoyed quite a bit.

  ‘About this specifically?’ he whispered.

  ‘No,’ she said with a hoarse laugh. ‘It was about marriage. About being careful about what you start your marriage with because your spouse might come to expect it. I think the article was directed at traditionally female roles in
the household—don’t iron shirts if you don’t want to keep doing it, those kinds of things—but it definitely applies now.’ Her fingers slipped under his chin. ‘Unless you plan on waking me up with seduction every morning, don’t do it now.’

  ‘In that case, I should probably give you more realistic expectations.’

  He didn’t give her a chance to reply before he kissed her. She immediately opened up to him, pressing her body close to him. He gave himself a moment to process the onslaught of sensation. The feeling of her breasts pressed against his chest. Of her skin heating against his. Of the heat of more of her—of all of her.

  Then he focused on kissing her. He wasn’t ever going to tire of it. Good thing, too, because the more he kissed her, the more responsive she became. The hand that wasn’t caught beneath her trailed down his back, lingering, caressing. When it moved to his front, reaching between them, he heard the groan as if it came from outside himself.

  The touches, the kisses, the intense intimacy. The emotion, the connection, the feeling of only them. All of it made him feel as if he were floating above his body. Then she welcomed him into hers, and he dropped back to earth, overwhelmed by pleasure and gratitude for his wife. His partner. His...equal.

  After, Elena told him to shower first so she could call down for breakfast. As the water beat down on him, he pondered his thoughts during their lovemaking. Explored how they made him feel. It was strange, but there was no alarm. Only an odd kind of acceptance. This was his life now. Elena was his wife, his partner, his equal. It was a life he’d never contemplated, and now, he couldn’t imagine it being any different.

  He left the bathroom with a bemused smile—which immediately faded when he saw Elena. She was standing in a hotel robe, phone in her hand, a tight expression on her face.

  ‘I put it on to check if my father called.’ Her voice was disturbingly detached. ‘He did. I didn’t listen to the voicemails, but I have a message that says I’d better have an explanation.’

  He walked over and pulled her into his arms. ‘We knew this was going to happen, Elena. Your father was never going to accept the embarrassment of cancelling an engagement party without an explanation.’

  ‘Even with an explanation he might not.’ She was chewing her thumbnail even as her head rested on his chest. ‘I know we expected this. I just...’

  She didn’t finish her sentence, only pulling away from him to look out through the sliding door.

  ‘Elena?’

  She took a deep breath. ‘This is going to be hard.’

  He shoved his hands into his pockets. She’d moved away from his physical offer of comfort, and he didn’t know if he should keep trying. He didn’t know if he had the right to. It was a confusing thought to have after what they’d shared the night before, that morning. After his thoughts in the shower. But he didn’t know if a spouse or partner or equal meant... Well, this. Emotional comfort, he supposed, though that didn’t feel like an adequate explanation.

  It was all clouded, muddled, so he focused on what was clear.

  ‘It is going to be hard.’

  She gave him a shrewd look. ‘I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to say something more supportive than that.’

  He curved his lips, but it wasn’t a smile. ‘I am being supportive. If I tell you it’ll be easy, you’ll know it’s a lie. At least this way, we can prepare for hard.’

  ‘We?’

  He shrugged, though her question felt as if it clouded things even more. ‘We’re partners, aren’t we?’ He didn’t wait for an answer. ‘I’m expecting this to be like a business meeting. A particularly difficult one, but a business meeting nevertheless. We’re offering him the reality of our situation. The way he engages with that is his problem.’

  She kept biting her nail. He took a step forward. Stopped.

  ‘Elena, look at me.’ Her eyes lifted. ‘You don’t have to be afraid of him.’

  ‘Don’t I?’ she asked in a small voice.

  ‘You’re married to a man who’s just as powerful as your father is. Maybe more. Externally,’ he clarified. ‘But you’re the person who’s dealt with him your entire life, despite being afraid of him, and come out on the other side.’ He couldn’t resist walking to her now, or tipping up her chin. ‘That takes courage. You’ve built a successful career outside him. That takes strength. You’re kind and sharp and annoyingly quick-witted—’ he smiled when her eyes narrowed a fraction ‘—and that makes you just as powerful as he is. More.’

  Her eyes filled, and she bit the bottom of her lip when it started to tremble. Then, in movements quicker than he could anticipate, she rose to her toes and gave him a passionate kiss. She pressed her body into his, wrapping her arms around him and tightening them so much he thought she was trying to become a part of him.

  But she already has.

  The thought had him breaking off the kiss, pulling away. He was panting, but he didn’t know if it was from her or from the shock of that thought.

  She gave him a little nod, acknowledging his response in some knowing way, before disappearing into the bathroom. Micah stared after her for a long time.

  What did she think she knew? And why did he feel as if that would change things more than any realisation he had about their relationship?

  * * *

  It was hard to imagine that once upon a time, she’d lived in this house with her parents. She’d thought she had a good life. A normal life. But she hadn’t known then that mothers didn’t tend to be as cool with their children as her mother had been with her. She hadn’t known that most children didn’t feel as though they needed to earn their parents’ love and approval. That fathers didn’t treat their children as objects.

  Her parents’ divorce had changed many things, but most of all, it had opened her eyes. And when she’d started seeing, something had cracked open inside her. Nothing had been able to fill that crack. Not friendships, though she didn’t have enough of those to judge. Not her job, though she’d tried her hardest for it to. But this morning, when Micah had been tenderly outlining all the things that meant she could take on her father, Elena had felt the crack fill.

  She was forced to face it then. Forced to face what she’d been running from since Italy.

  She was in love with him.

  It was concerning in many ways. They’d known one another for just over a week. A week. She scoffed at people who claimed to fall in love so quickly. Now, she wanted to talk to them all and ask them how it was possible. Did they fall for the other person’s sincerity? Their willingness to change? Did they fall for the efforts their person made to change?

  Or was it the quiet determination their partner vowed to protect them with? Or the passionate tenderness they made love with?

  Was it just that Micah was this way? That he was the person she was meant to be with? That falling in love with him was simply inevitable?

  She couldn’t deny they’d had a connection from the moment they met. Getting married had sealed that bond. Sleeping together had solidified it. Deepened it. In between the pleasure and sighs, Elena’s world had changed and she didn’t know what to do about it.

  Especially when she was sure Micah’s world had stayed the same.

  Micah squeezed her hand. She looked over, realised he’d been watching her. He thought the turmoil on her face was because they were about to see her father. Tension skittered through her body. Yes, this meeting was more pressing than her feelings. She’d have to put off dealing with falling in love with her husband until after she’d dealt with the first man whose love she wanted, but would never receive.

  She stilled. Then nausea welled inside her and she had to exert every ounce of control to ignore it.

  They walked to the large house that had been painted from white to grey since she’d moved out. She hadn’t been here since. Then her father summoned her to his office and now here she was. She sho
uld never have answered the call.

  The area in front of the house had been designed around a circle. Trees and bushes formed the inner and outer circle, with gravel filling the spaces in between. There was already a car parked on the gravel when they arrived, and it took her all of two seconds to recognise it as Jameson’s. Her father’s cars would be parked in the garage at the back of the house. Something rebellious inside her had almost guided Micah there as well, but she resisted. She didn’t understand why she felt disappointed that she had.

  ‘You okay?’ Micah asked as they rang the doorbell. He spoke under his breath, as if he was worried someone would hear. Clever. She wouldn’t put it past her father to put a camera at the door so he could watch unsuspecting guests.

  ‘Good.’ Her voice cracked.

  ‘Do you want me to do this alone?’

  At that, she turned. Gave him a faint smile. ‘I have to do this. I have to.’ She spoke as much to herself as she did to him.

  He opened his mouth, but the door opened before he could.

  ‘Elena,’ the woman at the door said when she saw them, her eyes going wide.

  ‘Rosie,’ Elena said, not quite believing it. ‘You’re still here.’

  She walked into the open arms of the John housekeeper, feeling a warmth she’d missed since they’d started preparing for the meeting. Rosie had always been kind to her, though professional—her parents wouldn’t accept anything else—and Elena hadn’t seen her since she’d left either.

  ‘Of course I’m still here.’ Rosie’s voice still held the traces of her native country. ‘You would have known that if you’d come to visit.’

  ‘You know why I haven’t,’ Elena said, the warmth dimming. ‘It wouldn’t have gone well for either of us.’

  ‘I see,’ Rosie said, her eyes tight. ‘Well, child, you’ve grown up well. I am happy about that, if nothing else.’

  ‘And I’m happy you are still here. I thought your sharp mouth would have got you into trouble.’