Forever After (The Forever Series #3)

by Cheryl Holt

  His passion crested, and he emptied himself against her womb. The thrill of it riveted him until he wondered if he might die from contentment.

  Ultimately, it was over and as he collapsed onto her, he said, “Now we’re finished.”

  He pulled away, their bodies separating, and he rolled onto his side. She rolled too so they were nose to nose, wide-eyed and smiling.

  “I’m not a virgin anymore, am I?” she inquired.

  “No.”

  “Could I be with child? Could it occur that fast?”

  “It could occur immediately, but it doesn’t normally from a single attempt.”

  She grinned. “I’ve ensnared you, Mr. Swift. You can never be shed of me.”

  “As if I’d want to be, you silly goose.”

  “I’m so happy.”

  “I’m happy too—and possibly a tad deranged.”

  “I like you when you’re deranged.” She snorted. “When will we tell Mildred?”

  “Tomorrow. I thought I’d formally ask her for your hand. She’s not your mother, but she’s the closest thing we have at the moment.”

  “I’d like that! Would you?” Then she frowned. “What if she won’t give us her blessing?”

  “I doubt she’d refuse, but even if she does I’ll marry you anyway. She’s not your parent so it’s not up to her, and it’s not as if we can decline to proceed after we’ve done this.” He tapped a finger on her nose. “Can you keep it a secret from her? You can’t provide any hints. You’ll spoil my announcement before I officially speak to her.”

  He had many reasons to speak to Mildred in the morning, but most of them had naught to do with Sarah. He couldn’t have her inadvertently interfere with his plan.

  “Yes, I can keep a secret. Or at least I think I can. What time will you stop by? Perhaps I’ll run errands so I’m out of the house until then.”

  “How about one o’clock?”

  “That’s half the day! How will I be silent for that many hours?”

  “Maybe I better come at ten. Is she up by then?”

  “Usually, but one o’clock is fine. I’ll simply have to curb my excitement.”

  “One it is.”

  “Shall we hold the ceremony here in Bath?”

  “We should get it accomplished as soon as we can.”

  “And after the wedding, could we travel to London? I have to locate my sisters and introduce you to them.”

  He shielded any reaction. He vividly recalled her twin sister, Catherine, and figured she’d rather shoot him dead than discover he’d married her sister. But in spite of her likely animosity, he claimed, “I would love to meet your sisters. I already know Catherine, remember?”

  “Oh, I’d forgotten. She’ll be so surprised!”

  She definitely will be! “Who is the other one?”

  “It’s Abigail. They’ll love you.”

  “Of course they will. Charm oozes out of me. I can’t tamp it down.”

  “Well, all of that charisma is mine now so you’ll have to try harder to hide it. I’m not sharing.” She shifted onto her back and yawned. “I’m exhausted all of a sudden.”

  “Sexual play can do that to a person.”

  “Is it all right if I fall asleep?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you stay with me?”

  “Only for a bit. I have to go before dawn approaches. I can’t have Mildred suspect our misconduct, and the neighbors shouldn’t see me creeping out your window once it’s light outside.”

  “No, that would be so embarrassing.”

  He snuggled her too him and drew the blankets more tightly around them. He listened as her breathing steadied, as she dozed off.

  He dawdled until he was falling asleep too, but he absolutely refused to be caught in her room. That would be a disaster. He’d gotten what he wanted from her, and there was no need to linger. He slipped away, but she didn’t stir. Quiet as a mouse, he tiptoed about, tugging on his stockings and boots, his shirt and coat.

  For several minutes, he peered down at her, and the most painful burst of affection whipped through him. She was so exceptional, and she didn’t deserve to be deflowered in such a slapdash fashion, but it was too late to worry about it. When she learned what he’d arranged, what would she think?

  He’d find out the next day. At one o’clock.

  I love you…

  He sent the words winging out to her a final time, then he turned away, realizing—if he didn’t force himself out—he’d never leave. He looked at the door and considered boldly walking out the front like the cad he’d always been. But when he was so near the end of his long road, he didn’t dare behave so recklessly.

  He’d sneak out the back like the philandering dog he was.

  He opened the window, climbed out, and shut it again. Then he vanished into the dark as if he’d never been there at all.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “Hello, Mildred.”

  “Hello, Nicholas, you scamp. I was wondering if I’d ever see your face again.”

  “I apologize for declining your supper invitation.”

  “We missed you terribly, but we simply have to learn to get along without your charming company.”

  They were in her front parlor, and she was aware that the energy in the house had changed. All morning, Sarah had been jumpy and distracted. Mildred had finally chased her out to run some errands and calm down.

  She hoped, by the time Sarah returned, some of her equanimity would have been restored. Had she known Nicholas would stop by? Was that why she’d been pacing and wringing her hands?

  Mildred stared at him, speculating over his purpose, but he was a gambler so it was hard to glean any information from his expression. It was a blank slate.

  “Why brings you by?” she asked. “Sarah’s not here—if that’s what you were expecting. She’ll be sorry to have missed you.”

  “I came to talk to you.”

  “I’m flattered.”

  “Could I speak to you—alone?”

  “Of course.”

  Winston was in the chair next to her. At Nicholas’s request for a private conversation, he bristled.

  “I’m Mildred’s oldest friend, and we’re barely acquainted with you, Mr. Swift. Anything you have to say to her you can say to me.” He smiled a fawning smile at Mildred. “I’ll stay—if that’s all right with you.”

  “It’s not all right with me, Winston. You treat me as if I’m a child, and I really have to decide whether you can visit me in the future. Aren’t you departing this afternoon? Why don’t you head to your room and pack your bag?”

  He grimaced with distaste. “You don’t have to be rude, Mildred, and I don’t treat you like a child.”

  “Don’t exhaust me more than you already have or I will raise the topic of your chat with Sarah the other night. I had intended to let you slink away without mentioning it, but if you continue to annoy me, I’ll throw it all on the table.”

  He blanched, then tucked away his reaction. “I have no idea what you mean.”

  “She showed me the coin you used to bribe her, and I told her to drill a hole through it and wear it as a necklace so she can flaunt it at you whenever you’re sitting at my dining table and eating my food.” She waved toward the vestibule. “Go, Winston, or I will have Mr. Swift escort you out.”

  Nicholas was standing over by the door. He looked very tough, and he flashed a glare at Winston that could have melted lead. Winston huffed and complained, but pushed himself to his feet.

  “I’m sure this blackguard is about to ask you for money,” he muttered to her. “Don’t you dare give him any.”

  “Or what? Will you tattle to my nephew? Leave me be, Winston. You’ve worn out your welcome.”

  He stomped out, and as he passed Nicholas he attempted to match the younger man’s glower, but he couldn’t begin to. She and Nicholas waited, listening as he marched up the stairs, then Nichola
s closed the door and sat in the chair across.

  “I thought I would have to drag him out for you,” he said.

  “He and my nephew view me as a toddler who needs a nanny. I hate to quarrel so I’ve tolerated it for years, but I’m growing weary.”

  “I can tell that about you.”

  “Most men are fools, and I’ve rarely met one who altered that opinion. It appears you have an important subject to address, and I pray you won’t land yourself in a pile with all those other male dolts.”

  “I’ll try my best not to.”

  “I’d appreciate it.”

  He’d brought a satchel, and he retrieved some papers from it and stacked them on the table between them. His posture reminded her of Robert and how he’d carried himself. She enjoyed watching him move, and she suspected what was coming. She braced, determined not to get her hopes up. They’d been dashed too often.

  “Well, Nicholas, what is it? I’m dying to hear.”

  “It’s difficult. I hadn’t imagined it would be, but I guess it is.”

  “I’ve always found it’s easiest to simply spit it out. Let’s toss it out in the open so I can figure out how to proceed. Is it about Sarah?”

  “No. This is about something else. Something better.”

  “Something better than proposing to Sarah?”

  He assessed her carefully, and she realized he was reeling her in and very possibly about to run a scam, but she wasn’t a dunce. If he assumed he could trick or swindle her, he’d find a very worthy adversary.

  “First,” he said, “I should confess that my befriending your nephew wasn’t an accident. I deliberately sought him out so I could ultimately be introduced to you.”

  “Why? Please don’t let this be about a bit of money. I’d be so disappointed.”

  “No, it’s not about that.”

  “Dubois advises me that you had a birthday on Saturday.”

  “I did.”

  “A big birthday. You turned thirty.”

  “Yes.”

  She took a deep breath, struggling to remain calm and in control. She wouldn’t exhibit an untoward display of emotion. She’d envisioned this moment on a thousand different occasions, and she was prepared for any eventuality.

  “Is that what you’d like to discuss?” she asked. “Your birthday?”

  “That’s part of it, but I want to show you some documents I’ve had in my possession.”

  “All right.”

  “I was raised by a woman named Peggy Swift—you might have known her as Pegeen Swifton—but she wasn’t my mother.”

  She absolutely recognized the name, and her pulse raced. Pegeen had been a lazy housemaid in her father’s house. While Mildred had been at the unwed mother’s home, Pegeen had been fired for sloth. On Mildred’s release from the facility, she’d been suffering from such terrible melancholy that she’d never pondered the incident.

  “Pegeen would never tell me who my parents were,” he explained. “She claimed she couldn’t tell me, that she’d been paid for her silence. But she was a drunkard, and when she was in her cups she’d taunt me with tidbits about my past.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it.”

  “After she died, I stumbled on these papers, and they pointed me to the place where I had to search.”

  So…here they were. At the end of the road. They stared and stared, and finally she said, “Let me see.”

  He handed them over. “Analyze them for as long as you like.”

  “What if I don’t believe the information they contain?”

  “If that’s your decision, I’ll have to accept it, but examine them for me. Take as long as you need. Then we’ll talk.”

  He stood and went to the front window, and he gazed out at her quiet street, looking at nothing in particular. She studied his back, wishing she could open up the top of his head to peer in at his mind and figure out what schemes and plots were rolling through it. Once she’d filled her eyes with the sight of him, she pulled away and began to read.

  * * * *

  Sarah was tromping down the sidewalk, wondering if she dared start for home. It had to be after one o’clock, but she’d been so nervous she hadn’t kept track of the time.

  From the minute she’d awakened, she’d been in a pathetic state.

  She was so happy! She was so excited! She’d bitten her tongue all morning, being desperate to apprise Mildred of her betrothal. She’d grown so irksome that Mildred had kicked her out of the house, sending her off to complete some needless errands, but it hadn’t been much of a tonic for what ailed her.

  She was thinking about Nicholas and what they’d done together. To her great alarm, she was calculating how she could sneak him back into her bed. Every aspect of the torrid coupling had been astonishing, and she was eager to experience all of it again.

  Deep down, was she a strumpet? She wasn’t supposed to have liked it so much, but she couldn’t help how delighted she was. Nicholas Swift—the most handsome, dashing rogue in the kingdom—was about to be hers forever.

  How soon could they marry? By the following afternoon, would she be a bride? Where would they live? How would they live? Would they always be as ecstatically content as she was at that very moment?

  The questions had her so befuddled she wasn’t watching where she was going. She hurried around a corner and bumped into a woman approaching from the other direction.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Pardon me,” Sarah hastily said. She reached out to steady the other woman, but as she straightened she frowned. “Desdemona? Why are you strolling down the sidewalk like a normal person?”

  “You nearly knocked me down!”

  “I apologize, although if I’d realized it was you I might not have been so quick to grab you and keep you from falling.”

  “Aren’t you amusing?” Desdemona smiled a tight smile. “You have such a smart mouth, but why are you so prone to use it? No one cares what you think.”

  “You’re absolutely correct,” Sarah retorted. “Would you excuse me? I’m busy, and I’m sure you are too. There’s no need for me to delay you another second.”

  She stepped to move by her cousin, but Desdemona stepped too to block her way.

  “How is Nicholas?” Desdemona asked, her demeanor caustic. “Did he spend the night with you or was he off with someone else?”

  Sarah’s cheek flushed a hot shade of scarlet. “I have no idea what you mean.”

  “Don’t you? From how you’re blushing, I know precisely where he was.”

  “You’re being ridiculous, Desdemona. As always.”

  Her cousin smirked. “I predicted he’d have found a new tart already. Apparently, he attempted to seduce you but couldn’t, and I doubted he’d go without a paramour for long. But it looks as if he’s succeeded with you after all. I hope he won’t expect me to pay up. I consider the wager to be ended.”

  “Pay up? What are you talking about? What wager?”

  “You can’t have thought his attention was genuine.”

  “I’m barely acquainted with Mr. Swift, and he certainly hasn’t showered me with any attention other than simple friendship.”

  “Friendship? Is that what they’re calling a hearty tumble these days?” Desdemona tsked with disapproval. “You can’t believe he’d be fascinated by you. Please tell me you’re not that foolish, Sarah.”

  “Des, you’re spewing riddles, and I have to finish my errands.”

  “How many times did you spread your legs? Once? Twice? Or has he swivved you on a dozen raucous occasions? Will the next gossip about you include the scandalous news that you have a babe in your belly?”

  “I can never figure out why I try to be civil to you.”

  “He told me he’d given up on you. I pestered him to explain why, but he claimed he hates virgins, and you weren’t worth the bother.”

  The comment made Sarah pause. Desdemona was always horrid, but the remark seemed particula
rly loathsome even by her low standards.

  “You discussed my maidenly condition with Mr. Swift? Seriously, Desdemona?”

  Desdemona scoffed. “I’m not lying.”

  “Yes, you are. You love to insult me, but why? You’ve inherited everything that used to be mine so you’re living my life. Why gloat? Why be so cruel to me?”

  “I’m cruel because I like to be.”

  “Bully for you, but I don’t have to stand here and listen to you spouting your venom.”

  “You think you’re so clever,” Desdemona fumed. “You think you’re better than me.”

  “Let’s not travel down this road. Goodbye.”

  She might have pushed on by, but Desdemona said, “Nicholas and I entered into a wager over you.”

  “You did not.”

  “I mentioned what a pompous little shrew you are, and he agreed with me. We decided we’d like to quash some of your unbridled arrogance.”

  “I wish you’d find other ways to entertain yourself so you could stop worrying about me.”

  “We felt the best method was for him to ruin you. We bet twenty pounds on it, but I told him your virginal knees were pressed so tightly together he couldn’t pry them apart with a shovel.”

  “You’re deranged, Des.”

  “Am I? He paid me the twenty pounds yesterday and declared himself the loser. He insisted he tried and tried with you, but he couldn’t make any headway. I begged him to describe how you look without your clothes, but he wouldn’t divulge a single detail.”

  “I’ve heard enough,” Sarah muttered.

  “It seems he went back and tried again. Clearly, he emerged victorious. What changed your mind? Has he promised his undying devotion? How did he accomplish it?”

  Sarah should have kept her mouth shut and marched away, but before she could bite down the words, she blurted out, “Nicholas loves me, but you wouldn’t know about that sort of deep sentiment.”

  “Nicholas loves you? Sarah, that is the oldest line in the libertine’s book. You can’t have fallen for it.”