A Precious Inheritance

by Paula Roe

  “Wherever we want. That’s the beauty of having lots of money—we can make it up as we go along.”

  Her chuckle dissolved into a sigh of pleasure. “I love you, Chase.”

  “And I love you, my perfect Vanessa.”

  * * *

  That evening, after Stella had offered to take the girls with a knowing grin, Chase stood nervously in the shadowy darkness of Vanessa’s bedroom as she drew the curtains, enveloping them in moonlit shadows.

  After baring his soul today, he was actually nervous. But those nerves quickly scattered when Vanessa turned and her entire face lit up with a beautiful smile.

  “Vanessa,” he groaned.

  “I love you, Chase. I’ve loved you ever since Georgia.”

  Oh, Lord, she undid him every time! She weaved her fingers through his and squeezed gently before placing a kiss on his knuckles. When he searched for her eyes in the shadows, her lips found him instead.

  The kiss was soft, tender. Full of emotion and compassion. Just like Vanessa.

  When he thought he couldn’t be surprised by anything anymore, he felt a great shift inside as his heart opened up to new hope, new possibilities, and the swell of joy that followed swamped every muscle in his body.

  “You’re so beautiful.” He gently peeled her T-shirt up then tossed it over his shoulder. So very beautiful.

  He swept a palm over her breast, smiling when he heard her breath catch as her nipple peaked beneath her bra.

  “Chase?”

  “Yeah?” His mouth swooped down to tongue that hard nub, grinning in satisfaction as a shudder coursed through her.

  “Talk to me…” She hesitated, her eyes flitting to him shyly, then away. “In that accent of yours.”

  He swallowed, dragging the soft cotton of her bra cup down past the swelling peak. “You like it?”

  “I do.”

  He grinned. “Sure thing, ma’am.”

  Another ripple of pleasure shimmied down Vanessa’s spine as he gently pushed her back to the bed.

  “I can feel your nipples pushing against my mouth. They’re so hard, like tiny pebbles. And I ache so much…” He glanced up, eyes capturing hers. “Can you feel me?”

  She swallowed. “Yes.”

  Their gazes met, held. When Chase reached for her hand and gently placed it over her breast, she groaned aloud.

  “Tell me what it feels like,” he murmured.

  “It’s hard…” She swept her palm over the bud, sucking in a breath when her body involuntarily jerked. “Yet so soft.”

  His mouth went to the underside of her breast, gently lipping the sensitive skin. “Tell me what you’re feeling, Vanessa.” His voice had gotten deeper and that sexy drawl, nonexistent on a normal day, had now stretched his vowels into a perfectly arousing tool of seduction. “Tell me everything you’re doing.”

  She swallowed again, her throat dry, and sat heavily on the bed. “Can you…keep talking?”

  His deep chuckle had her squeezing her thighs around his waist, trying to stop the flood of sensation escaping too soon. “Sure thing, darlin’.” He paused then said, “Lay back and run your hand over your skin.”

  “Yes.” She closed her eyes and let his voice and her hands take her away.

  “Cup the fullness. It’s warm, isn’t it?”

  “Mmm.”

  “I can taste you.” His heavy sigh washed over her, tightening her insides. “I’m going to take one of those plump nipples in my mouth and suck it until you’re writhing beneath me.”

  Oh…my. The bed dipped beside her, then his hot mouth suddenly fastened onto her peaking nipple and she would’ve jerked clean off the bed if Chase’s thigh wasn’t pinning her down. He simply chuckled and kept right on teasing her, using his tongue, mouth and hands until she was indeed writhing beneath him.

  He straddled her, then paused. As the warm silence flowed around them, Vanessa wasn’t sure if it was her heavy breath she could hear or his.

  She watched him swallow thickly, his eyes black with passion. “Can you feel that?”

  “Yes.” Inside me, outside me. Everywhere. She reached between their slick bodies and grasped the full hard length of him. When he groaned and gave a shudder, she just about combusted right then and there.

  He was all hers. Right now and forever.

  “Are you wet for me?”

  She knew the answer without even going there, the throbbing heat proof enough. “Yes.”

  “Open for me.”

  It took just three little words, three deep, sexy words drawled into her ear to make her lose all her inhibitions. As her mind spun and her breath held, she spread her legs and Chase smoothly thrust inside her.

  He stilled and a sigh escaped, a soft, contented sound that came from deep within his soul. Her insides tightened and soared when she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled him down and kissed him. His heart pulsed against her bare skin, matching hers as their tongues danced and he murmured warmly against her lips. Everything throbbed, from her skin to her mouth, to the more intimate core inside. He filled her completely and she was hot and aching for him.

  And then slowly, slowly, he began to move and she dissolved into flames of pleasure.

  Chase’s hypnotic voice coaxed and encouraged as he told her in exquisite detail what he was going to do to her, with her. And she was completely wrapped up in every word, every shockingly sexy description, every hot breath. He had her so tightly wound that it barely took a half a second for her release moments later.

  Her back arched as the orgasmic waves washed over her. She was unashamed, not caring that her cries of ecstasy reverberated through the still room. Moments later, she felt Chase stiffen then join her in the final throes of passion.

  Minutes passed, the air punctuated by their ragged breaths as they gradually returned to earth, and Vanessa slowly opened her eyes.

  “Wow.”

  He chuckled and shifted, his arms tightening around her. “Wow yourself.”

  “It was…”

  “Perfect,” he finished.

  His warm breath on her forehead finally slowed and his lips trailed softly across her cheek, the intimate tenderness gripping her heart and twisting it.

  She breathed him in, absorbing every damp inch of his passion-laden skin, every intimate throb as he remained inside her.

  “I love you, Chase.”

  “And I love you, Vanessa. Always.”

  And right there, right now, everything really was perfect.

  * * * * *

  Turn the page for a special bonus story by USA Today bestselling author Barbara Dunlop.

  Then look for the next installment of THE HIGHEST BIDDER, The Rogue’s Fortune, by Cat Schield wherever Harlequin Books are sold.

  The Gold Heart, Part 4

  Barbara Dunlop

  Six months ago

  Aimee Khouri might not have a royal title, but her father, Sheik Ghani Khouri, was twenty-sixth in line to the throne of Rayas, so her wedding was taking place in the grand hall of Valhan Palace. Preparations had been under way for months. The guest list was over a thousand. And it had taken her seven hours today to bathe, dress and do her hair and makeup.

  Aimee wasn’t as attractive as her two sisters, Cala and Zahra, and she couldn’t hold a candle to her third cousin, Princess Kalila, who was second in line to the throne. But Aimee felt beautiful today. She wore the traditional seven-layer bridal outfit of colorful silks and satins, sexy lace and gorgeous ribbons. She couldn’t wait for her groom, in keeping with Rayasian tradition, to slowly peel them away from her body tonight.

  Handsome and urbane, her groom, Daud, belonged to a family who owned Rayas’s largest shipping company. He’d been educated in Britain, so he was more progressive than most Rayasian men. No autocrat husband for Aimee, no traditional rules or expectations. She’d spend her life visiting the great ports of the world, wear western clothes, attend glittering social functions and meet interesting people.

  Alone for a few final m
oments, she paused at the end of the central palace hall. At exactly four o’clock, the massive double doors to the great-hall foyer swung open, revealing the rest of the bridal party, her two sisters, four other attendants and her father. Happiness settled deep inside Aimee’s chest.

  Her father nodded to her in silence. No one would speak now until the chancellor started the ceremony. The attendants took up their positions in a diamond formation around her. Their ice-blue gowns set off her own top robe of deep purple satin and the royal gold-and-white scarf that flowed around her head. The purple robe was parted at the front to reveal the mauve lace of her full-length dress. Beneath that was a shorter dress, with cap sleeves, and on it went until the gossamer camisole that would be Daud’s final reward before they made love tonight in a private tower of the palace.

  She moved forward, swallowing delightful butterflies of excitement. But, halfway across the foyer, her gaze was distracted.

  The large, glass dome that sat on a marble table in the center of the rotunda was empty. She blinked, wondering for a split second if it was a joke. But she quickly realized nobody would remove the Gold Heart statue as a prank, particularly on a royal wedding day.

  “Father?” she whispered.

  “Shh,” he commanded.

  “The Gold Heart,” she warned him. “It’s missing.”

  “Shh,” he repeated, his tone stern.

  “But—”

  “We will discuss it later.”

  Aimee’s stomach cramped. “Where did it go?”

  Had somebody moved it? Was it in the great hall? A new tradition perhaps?

  Her sister Cala moved close behind. “It was stolen,” she told Aimee quietly.

  Aimee’s gaze flew to her father, encountering his stony profile. “No,” she rasped, horrified.

  “Hush,” he ordered.

  She stopped still. The Gold Heart statue was the family’s talisman of love. It had been that way for three hundred years. Three statues had been carved to protect the three daughters of the ancient king. One had been lost a hundred years ago, and the romances in that branch of the family had been doomed ever since.

  “They are looking for it,” her father assured her.

  “How can I get married?” she asked in a strained whisper. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t fair. She was minutes from a marriage to a perfect man.

  “Do not worry,” said her father.

  “But—”

  “They will find it.”

  “In time?”

  He smiled, a rare event. “What is in time? You are young. Before your honeymoon is over, the statue will be back.”

  Aimee’s stomach relaxed a little. Her father was right. The king would move heaven and earth to recover the precious statue. Everything was going to be fine.

  She began walking again, passing through the royal archway and into the grand hall where well-wishers from around the gulf and beyond had gathered. She saw Daud in the center of the room, on a dais beneath a glittering gazebo. He looked nervous, even more nervous than she felt. He also must have heard of the statue’s theft.

  He wore traditional white robes. His scarf was emerald green. Next to him, his boyhood friend and prime attendant, Jacx, was resplendent in the black dress uniform of the Rayasian navy.

  Jacx didn’t look remotely nervous. His features were fixed, the slash of a mouth, the square chin, his sculpted brow were hard as ice. By contrast, his dark eyes looked molten with anger. Aimee could guess why. He resented participating in the wedding. She and Jacx had never liked each other. He found her opinionated and frivolous, while she found his relentless traditionalism extremely tiresome.

  Unlike most of the Rayasian upper crust, Jacx hadn’t traveled abroad for university. Instead, he’d attended Rayas’s military academy. Sure, he’d graduated at the top of his class, and at twenty-seven he had already achieved the rank of captain commanding a royal ship. But he was set in his ways, fixed in his thinking, and likely couldn’t have laughed if his life depended on it.

  Her wedding party reached Daud. Aimee’s leading attendants separated to let her through, and her father stopped, letting her go forward on her own. The string music faded, and she moved to her groom.

  Daud’s brow was damp, his hands clasped together. His gaze had darted to her, taking in her dress, her scarf, her ceremonial gold jewelry. She waited for him to meet her eyes.

  “Your Royal Highnesses,” the chancellor began, bowing to the king and to the princes and princesses in the front row. “Honored guests,” he continued.

  Daud shifted his feet.

  “This is a glorious occasion.” The Chancellor paused for a dramatic moment. “For thousands of years, people have come together at Tibalta—”

  Daud said something under his breath.

  The chancellor gave him a sharp look. “On the full moon of spring.”

  Daud whispered something that sounded like “I can’t.”

  This time, the chancellor glared an unmistakable rebuke. “In the presence of our king.”

  Aimee tried once again to catch Daud’s gaze, but he was staring off into space.

  “I can’t,” he repeated. This time, there was no mistaking his words.

  “Can’t what?” she found herself asking.

  Finally, he looked at her. “I can’t marry you.”

  “Because of the statue?” she asked.

  He blinked in what seemed like confusion. “What statue?”

  It took a moment for the meaning of his words to sink in. When they did, a roaring started in Aimee’s ears, and her fingers began to tremble. It wasn’t the Gold Heart? It was something else? Daud was calling off the wedding?

  It was a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare. Oh, wake up. Oh, please wake up.

  Daud turned to the king, bowing in deference. “Your Majesty. To my deep regret, and utter sorrow, I must confess, I love another.”

  A collective gasp went up from those in hearing distance.

  Aimee’s legs turned to jelly. She would have collapsed, except a strong arm slipped around the small of her back. She didn’t look to see who was there.

  The elderly king rose, and all the room’s occupants stood with him.

  “Explain yourself,” he boomed, his voice stronger than Aimee had heard in many years.

  “I love another,” said Daud, dropping his head.

  “You are pledged to Aimee.”

  “I know,” Daud admitted.

  “You would put emotion before duty?” the king demanded.

  Daud nodded.

  The king’s jaw went tight, anger darkening his eyes.

  “Wake up, wake up, wake up,” Aimee ordered herself under her breath.

  Crown Prince Raif Khouri whispered something in the king’s ear.

  The king frowned at his son. But his next words were for Daud. “Her family will require compensation.”

  “Of course,” Daud answered, his relief embarrassingly obvious. He bobbed another bow. Without a single look to Aimee, he backed from the dais.

  A gray haze moved in front of Aimee’s eyes. A blessing, since it saved her from seeing anyone in the crowd, her parents, her sisters, heads of state, news reporters who would recount the salacious details for days and weeks to come. The murmur started low, at the back of the room, but then it rolled forward as people whispered to their neighbors.

  And then a voice rose above the din. “Your Majesty, the wedding can continue.”

  The king stilled, and Prince Raif’s gaze fixed on Aimee. No, not on Aimee, on a spot just above her head. She glanced up to see Jacx. His jaw fixed, sheer determination in his dark eyes.

  “The wedding can continue,” he repeated, his fingers tightening where he grasped her waist.

  The breath left Aimee’s body.

  “You will do your duty?” Prince Raif asked.

  “I will,” Jacx intoned.

  “No,” Aimee coughed out. It might be tradition for the prime attendant to step in, but it hadn’t happened in o
ver a hundred years, certainly not at a royal wedding, and definitely not at hers. She wouldn’t be bound to Jacx, a military man, a traditional man, a man who would leave her marooned in Rayas while he went off to patrol the seas for his country.

  “Shut up,” Jacx muttered.

  “I will not,” she insisted.

  “The wedding shall continue,” the king decreed.

  “You can’t—”

  Before she could get another word out, Jacx deftly spun her around to face the chancellor. His hand moved to clasp firmly over her mouth. He put his mouth next to her ear. “Do not contradict your king.”

  Aimee tried to speak. She tried to push away. She understood that Jacx had just saved the honor of her family, of the royal family, of the king himself. But she couldn’t marry Jacx. They hated each other. Rayasian marriages were forever. There was no such thing as divorce. And, most important, he didn’t know the terrible thing she’d done.

  * * *

  Everyone seemed to make a collective decision to ignore Daud’s outrageous behavior. Outwardly, it came off like any other wedding. People danced and laughed and congratulated the couple. The king made a ceremonial presentation of an antique sapphire necklace, a heritage piece from the royal collection, as a wedding gift. Jacx smiled stoically, if falsely, through the entire charade. Aimee was numb. She didn’t remember reciting her vows. Maybe she hadn’t. Maybe everyone was simply going to pretend she’d spoken.

  People’s voices made no sense. She couldn’t decipher the words. The music was a cacophony in her ears, and she only danced mechanically when Jacx dragged her onto the floor. She made the mistake of looking into his eyes. Something burned there, a possession, an anticipation that she feared she recognized. With Daud, she had been safe. With Jacx, she was in insurmountable trouble.

  He was going to see her naked. He was going to do what every other groom did on his wedding night. He would discover her deepest, darkest secret. And he would use it against her. She knew very well he would use it to destroy her.

  Her stomach was a knot of misery as they rode away in the traditional, horse-drawn carriage, to the cheers of the guests and the good wishes of the king. At the east palace tower, it was a short climb to the third floor, a modern suite with a sofa grouping, a big dining table, a massive en suite bath and a huge, four-poster bed strewn with rose petals. The windows were open, and the ocean breeze buffeted the gauzy curtains. The lights were low, vanilla-scented candles burning on the tables next to the bed.