With the heat between us, the scent of his heady cologne mingled with my perfume. Riggins had a scent all his own. Strong, masculine, confident, elegant. Other men could wear this scent, but no other man could wear it exactly like this.
I sighed with happiness to be in his arms again.
His lips slid from mine to my neck as he pulled at the hem of my maternity blouse. "Show me my baby."
I grabbed the hem from him and pulled it up over the bump. My skin was already taut and stretched firm, and growing more so by the day. The baby, the tiny traitor, had gone suddenly shy and still.
I looked down at my naked stomach. "Baby's suddenly hiding."
Riggins' eyes were dark and wide with desire. "That's not the baby I meant." His words were nearly a growl as he pulled my blouse over my head and unfastened my bra. "This is my baby. You're mine. My baby. My lover. My wife. My heart."
He caught me in his arms and carried me to the bed, threw back the covers with one arm, and laid me back on the plush, expensive sheets. He stood at the side of the bed and began unbuttoning his shirt.
I slid out of the remainder of my clothes, watching as he undressed rapidly in front of me, his clothes joining mine in a pile on the floor. I should have been shy of my awkward new shape. My body no longer felt like my own. It was a daily stranger, changing before I got used to its new form.
As Riggins' gaze took all of me in, I boldly opened my legs for him. I wanted him so badly I almost thought it was possible to come just from the caress of his loving, heated look. My dreams of late had been full of him making love to me. Wet dreams so powerful I'd almost sworn he'd come to me in the night. I woke from them unfilled and desperate. As desperate as I was for him now.
He bent to kiss me between my legs. But I was too fragile and on the edge for that. One touch of his tongue and I'd be gone, and that wasn't what I wanted. I needed a full completion. The full intimacy of him inside me.
I caught his head and pulled his face up until he gazed over the edge of my stomach at me. "No. No. Not now. I can't wait. Come up here."
He was erect and ready. He didn't need a second invitation as I pulled him up and to me.
His hips, which would normally press against mine, now rested against my swelling baby bump. I guided him until he slid into me and groaned softly.
I took his face and pulled it to mine until we were eye to eye. I had to tell him and tell him now.
"I love you," I whispered. "More than anything. I want you more than anything."
He was braced above me, trying to keep his weight off me and the baby.
I grabbed one of his hands and rested it against my belly as I put my heart and soul into my eyes and voice. "I love you, but I come with this baby. We're a set." I waved my arm around the room. "I come with this castle and this legacy. I come with everything. I'm yours. We're all yours. But we can't be separated."
"Damn it, Haley." His voice was hoarse. "Do you have to talk so damn much and steal my thunder? I'm the one who comes with this bloody castle." He drove into me, hard.
I gasped with the force of his drive and closed my eyes.
"Open your eyes, Haley. Look at me. "I'll take your package deal, but only if you take mine. Deal?"
When I opened my eyes, he was staring intently at me. His expression was set. It was clear he knew what he was saying. His soul was bare in his eyes. He'd take the package I offered, the deal he'd been handed. He'd do it all for me. I just wished he were doing it for himself, too.
I stared up at him with tears in my eyes. "You want the dukedom?"
"I want you." He moved inside me, more gently this time.
"You're not playing fair." I stroked his face. "I don't want you to resent me—"
"How could I ever resent you, duchess? You're all I ever wanted." He thrust again, harder.
This time he didn't let up. We moved together, rhythmically, letting the love between us flow. I arched up to meet him, as much as I was able with the bulk of the baby.
His skin was hot against mine. I was hyperaware of him, feeling even the fine hair of his legs rub against my bare thighs. I was open to him and vulnerable.
I clasped my legs around him and let him take me away. We were on a journey together, he and I. It was magical. And adventurous. And filled with danger, like life was. But we were one now.
The bed rocked with our passion. The ancient headboard pounded against the sturdy wall that had witnessed this act through the centuries.
Riggins let out a low, guttural grunt. I followed him on the waves of pleasure, crashing and crashing until I cried out.
When it was over, he lay next to me, cradled me in his arms, and pulled the covers over us.
Why now? I wondered. Why had he confessed his love now?
The question must have been on my face. After a moment of companionable silence, he told me everything. Everything he'd found out about Bird, everything he'd told Sid on the flight over.
"I should have told you first." He looked genuinely apologetic. "But it's Sid's life. I thought she deserved to know, especially when the opportunity was handed to me as if fate was serving it up on a platter."
I nodded, drowsy and happy in his arms. "Yes, of course she does." We'd have to get up soon.
"Red clover tea," he said suddenly.
I opened my eyes slowly, still drowsy with the afterglow of love. I leaned up on one elbow and stared at him, smiling and amused. "You want tea now? Red clover tea? I didn't think you liked tea. I don't think we have any red clover tea."
"Oh, we have plenty, believe me." He took a strand of my hair, twirled it around his fingers playfully, and laughed. "It's the key ingredient in the family blend. Duke of Witham tea is packed full of it. Have you ever heard the villagers refer to the tea as enhancing fertility?"
I shook my head, amused he believed in myths. "No. And if I did, I'd think it was nothing more than an old wives' tale." I tried not to mock him, but I couldn't keep my amusement out of my voice. I was usually the naïve one.
His expression remained totally serious. "The old wives apparently knew their herbal remedies. And so does my assistant Jennifer. She's something of an amateur herbalist. She tasted the tea and immediately tasted the red clover.
"Haley"—he stroked my cheek—"red clover tea, and your love of it, is how the Dead Duke foiled our attempts at birth control. Red clover counteracts the hormones in birth control pills, reducing their effectiveness. Like a hole in a condom, is the way Jennifer explained it. Your great-grandfather tricked us. Using the very British ritual of tea."
My mouth fell open. The tricky old man. I knew he was behind it. But the method was ingenious. Like something out of one of the Agatha Christie novels from his collection in the library.
Riggins kissed the strand of my hair wrapped in his fingers. "I'm sorry I doubted you. I never should have accused you of trapping me."
His eyes were filled with guilt. And my question was answered. He trusted me enough now to profess his love because he knew I hadn't betrayed him. And my great-grandfather really was a maniacal genius beyond measure.
"I forgive you." I leaned down and kissed Riggins. "We've all been pawns in his game. But it's over now. What more can he do to us? He has nearly everything he wanted. And so do we."
Chapter 12
Riggins
As much as I wanted to lounge in bed with my wife all day, we'd promised to meet Sid in the library for tea. Reluctantly, I slid out of bed, handed Haley her clothes, and began to dress. "How have things been since I've been gone? Do you still feel like someone's been watching you?"
Haley had been keeping things from me during our calls. I'd had reports from my security team that she'd been concerned that someone was following her. At times, she requested security guards walk with her into the maze and even the poison garden on her daily strolls.
She gave me a quick look. She clearly knew what I was asking. "The security guys have been talking."
"Don't blame them. I demand dai
ly reports." I paused. "You've still been feeling uneasy? Even after I added extra security details? I'll have more cameras and motion sensors installed."
She paused and nodded slowly. "I have. Maybe it's just my imagination. This place is rather gothic. And both lovely and scary when you're gone."
"Or maybe the ghost stories are true." I squeezed her knee.
She slapped my hand away. "You're mocking me."
"Wouldn't dare." I slipped into a T-shirt and tossed the button-down shirt I'd worn on the plane onto a chair to throw in the laundry later. "Any more ghost sightings in the tower?"
I would have laughed like I was joking, but I was half serious, maybe more.
She shook her head. Hesitated. And corrected herself. "Maybe. There have been a few times I thought I saw something."
She shrugged. "But I couldn't be sure. I checked the tower several times. It was always locked. The security team has orders to stay out of it, and I'm the only one with the key. There couldn't have been anyone there. But if it's a trick of the light, I can't figure it out."
I nodded. "Yes, well, maybe we will have to call those ghost hunters out."
With that, we got ready and met Sid in the library. She was bouncing with energy and eager to see everything, including Bird.
Haley was apologetic. "He had to run to London to pick up his son. Will's been on vacation in Europe with some buddies since school ended on the tenth. He was supposed to be back yesterday, but he decided to spend an extra day at a friend's house. They'll be back late tonight."
Haley knew why Sid was so eager to meet them.
"Give them a day to get settled in before we spring you on them," she said to her sister. She sounded as eager as Sid. "We need to plan carefully for all contingencies." She was smiling, but worry edged her expression and tone.
We could be wrong in our assumptions. Or right but Bird and/or Will could reject her. Neither of them was under any obligation to either acknowledge her or donate marrow. A ripple of tension filled the air.
Sid's returning smile was gracious. "You're right. I've waited a lifetime. What are a few more hours?"
I glanced between them nervously, hoping they wouldn't be disappointed.
Our conversation about ghosts was still on my mind late that night as I sat in the dark at the small desk in Haley's room and worked on my laptop. Jetlag was a bitch. I never managed to avoid it, no matter how many preventatives or remedies I tried. The pregnancy and excitement had worn Haley out. She stayed up as late as she could, barely eleven, then fell into bed exhausted. She slept soundly in bed while I worked.
I had a hard time keeping my eyes, and hands, off her. My heart was filled with the knowledge she loved me. And guilt for my half-assed answer about the dukedom. I was, apparently, stuck with it, so what did it matter if I actually wanted it?
But it seemed to matter to her that I did. I knew her feelings all too well—she didn't want us to be the duke and duchess who lost it. She'd read something in the Dead Duke's papers that she'd taken to heart: The obligation of each new duke is to leave the dukedom better off than when he took possession of it.
A fine sentiment. A nice ideal. But that meant increasing the value of the estate by a minimum of the forty percent estate tax just to leave it in the same shape as it was when he inherited. No small feat in the current economy.
Stiff from sitting, I stood and stretched. I walked to the window to clear my head. It was a clear summer night. My gaze naturally went to the Ghost Tower. It was dark and imposing. Dark being the operative word. As I rolled my neck, preparing to return to business, a light flickered in the upper window of the tower. It was very faint, but definitely real.
I pulled my phone out and snapped a picture of it so I could pinpoint the location later. Before I could make a move, it was out. I swore beneath my breath and looked back at the bed where Haley still slept soundly. Ghost or no, I was going in after that haunting bastard. Something was going on in the tower and I was going to find out what.
I grabbed a jacket and a pair of tennis shoes. On my way out I stopped by the duke's suite and grabbed the key to the tower. And the ghost-hunting kit I'd ordered and stored on my last visit—a flashlight and night-vision goggles. Maybe I should have grabbed a silver stake or stopped by the kitchen for a head of garlic. I was a bit more prosaic and grabbed a hunting rifle. The foe I was facing was in all likelihood human and very much alive.
The midnight air was cool as I left the castle and put on my goggles. The grass of the lawn damp and heavy with dew. The hair on my arms and neck stood up from the chill. I should have grabbed a jacket. My stomach burned with excitement and my heart raced. I wasn't exactly afraid. Not of the usual things.
My heart beat heavy in my ears as I let myself into the tower and glanced at the picture on my phone, trying to pinpoint the location where the light had been. I raced up the narrow, circular staircase.
The tower had been designed as a fortress to be defended by the castle's knights, who'd been much shorter and smaller than modern men. As such, the staircase was tight and designed so that defenders familiar within the building could charge down the stairs with their swords drawn in the right hands, facing intruders whose right-hand swing was broken by the stone walls. Which put invaders at a disadvantage, especially in an era when it was considered unlucky and unnatural to be left-handed.
Wanting to catch my ghost by surprise, I didn't flip the lights on. Instead I relied on my goggles. I swung out of the staircase on the third floor and raced to a small stone room that faced Haley's window. The door to it was open as I approached.
I raised my rifle to my shoulder and stepped inside. A man was seated in the dark in the corner, casually eating a sandwich.
He set the sandwich down on a piece of butcher paper beside him, dusted the crumbs from his hands, and flicked a lighter on, illuminating his face. "Hello, son. I was wondering when you were finally going to realize I wanted to see you."
Haley
I woke suddenly, startled awake by a breeze. Or so I imagined. I was used to sleeping alone, but even so, I missed Riggins and his delicious hot body and heat. When I'd fallen asleep, he'd been working on his laptop at the desk.
I rubbed my eyes and sat up. His chair was empty now, but the laptop was still open and on. I glanced around the room, thinking he'd probably just gone to the bathroom. But my bathroom door was open and the light off.
"Riggins?"
I slid to the edge of the bed and slipped into my slippers and robe. Gibson claimed it was cool in the castle even in the heat of summer. And the heat of summer was still some time off. The chill persisted. I pulled the robe tightly around me and hugged myself as I went looking for him in his room.
His suite was empty, too. I went back to mine, working up the courage to go looking for him in the rest of the castle. Had he decided he wanted a midnight snack? It was the appropriate hour for it.
I didn't know what drew me to the window, but something did. I peered out, half expecting to see him taking a midnight stroll. The lawn was empty. But the light was back in the Ghost Tower, very faint. Just a flicker. But it was there.
No.
I knew exactly where he was. I didn't bother to look for the key. I was sure he had it. I took off after him.
Riggins
"Are you going to stand there in the dark looking like you've seen a ghost?" My derelict, and decidedly not dead, father got casually to his feet, surprisingly limber for a man his age.
He spoke with a strong British accent. Which I found startling and surprisingly foreign. All my life I'd known he was British on an intellectual level. But somehow, in my mind, whenever I imagined meeting him, he always sounded American.
If I'd been raised British, or had been a linguist, I could have told where he was from and what kind of accent it was exactly. To my American ears it was simply middle-class British. Not aristocratic on the one side. Not Cockney on the other. He was taller than I expected. His voice deeper, with a tone that
women would find sexy. I hated to admit it, but I could see how Mom would have been attracted to him.
I hated him, but even I had to admit he had magnetism. At the same time, he was just as cocky and arrogantly confident as I expected from the little I knew of him. And irritatingly charming in a roguish way.
He was a good thirty years older than the picture my mom had kept on her dresser all those years, but still slender and fit. Still had a thick head of graying hair.
His face was lined with hard living, but, as much as it galled me, he was still a good-looking man. Even with the bags beneath his eyes. His face had lost the slenderness of youth and filled out. It had also lost the defined edges and was beginning to sag. He was on the border of developing jowls, but somehow that only made him look mature and distinguished. He had the distinctive and arresting Feldhem eyes. I looked too damn much like him for comfort.
I reluctantly dropped the rifle from my shoulder. I'd dreamed of punching the shit out of him since I'd been small. Now that I had my opportunity, I restrained myself.
"Hello, Dad. If I look like I'm seeing a ghost, it's because I am. You're supposedly dead. What are you doing haunting the Ghost Tower? It's a bit clichéd. Are the gates of hell open now? Is there a demon's holiday I should be aware of?"
He laughed. "Nice to see you, too, Riggins. They told me you had a sense of humor."
He may have found the whole thing funny, but I was chilled to the bone. His sense of timing was impeccably off. I hadn't wanted this damn dukedom in the first place. But now that I had it and a child on the way, I sure as hell didn't want to hand it over to this reprobate loser to destroy. And have to watch him do it.
He looked past me over my shoulder. "You must have been expecting me. You came alone. Or will security be here any minute?"
The American Heir: A Jet City Billionaire Romance (The Billionaire Duke Series Book 4) Page 12
