One Dangerous Desire (Accidental Heirs) Read online

  “Is that truly how you see her? A pampered princess who wishes to spend her time in leisurely amusements?”

  No. His muscles bunched in his body, eager to burst with movement. He reached out to swipe everything off of his desk and clasped the marriage certificate instead.

  “She’s much more than that, Jack. Strong and smart and a much better human being than I will ever be.” He held up the slip of paper. “What can I offer her? A home in a hotel where she was attacked?” After returning the document to his desk, he leaned on the edge and scrubbed a hand across his face. “Life with me won’t be easy. Why does she deserve such a fate?”

  When Sullivan offered no response, Rex glanced up to find him coolly examining his pocket watch. “Since I have no intention of indulging your bout of self-loathing, shall I return later to finish my report?”

  Before Rex could decide whether to punch Sullivan in the nose or shake the man’s hand, Mrs. Hark rapped at his office door.

  “Visitor for you, Mr. Leighton.”

  “Send him away.” His answer had been the same for the two days he’d sequestered himself in his office. Jack Sullivan was the first person he’d admitted.

  Mrs. Hark stopped just inside his office door. At his command to refuse the visitor, she clasped her hands in front of her and rocked back on her heels. “I don’t think I will, Mr. Leighton.”

  Rex glanced at Sullivan. Good God, had they both decided to rebel against him when he was in the foulest mood of his life?

  “Thank you, Mrs. Hark.” May’s voice sounded from the hallway behind his housekeeper. “Let me take it from here.”

  In the most obedient act Rex had ever seen Mrs. Hark perform, she retreated and offered May a half bow. An actual bow.

  As soon as May swept into the room, his lungs started working. He could breathe again. Not in the pained, shallow gasps he’d been suffering for days, but long drams of air filtering into his blood. Rose-scented air.

  And how she looked. Mercy. She’d come to conquer, wearing an elaborate cream-colored gown with so many beads sewn into the bodice and skirt she rustled when she walked and glinted in the morning light. Large teardrop pearls bobbed on hooks at her ears, and her glossy hair was pinned up in an elaborate style, with diamond-crusted pins holding ebony curls in place.

  “Good morning, Mr. Sullivan. Forgive me for interrupting, but might I have Mr. Leighton to myself for a bit?”

  Sullivan ducked his head. “By all means, Miss Sedgwick.”

  The two exchanged an odd, fleeting look as he strode from the room.

  When he and May were alone, Rex had to resist the temptation to bow to her too. To get on his knees and ask her to forgive him for being an unmitigated ass. For ignoring her for two days after what must have been one of the most frightening experiences of her life.

  “I’ve brought a Mr. Witherspoon from down the road with me. He was guarding the wrong house, it seems.”

  She referred to the guard Sullivan had hired to stand watch over Rex’s townhouse when he’d anticipated more trouble from his father. He’d sent the man to keep post outside the Sedgwick house. Knowing the man was there kept Rex from lurking outside her townhouse overnight himself.

  He nodded. If he spoke, he’d be apt to start babbling, and the rush of emotion coursing through him would no doubt emerge in a cloud of nonsense.

  Rather than falling on her like a starved beast, as everything in him wished to do, he reached a hand out to her, like a man sinking in quicksand might strain for a lifeline.

  May didn’t step forward, but she lifted her hand too, just touching her fingertips to his.

  The contact, just the slide of her skin across his, ignited shivers up his arm, a spike of heat through his chest. He hooked her fingers, then grasped her wrist. Lifting off his desk, bending over her arm, he kissed the bare flesh at the edge of her sleeve.

  One taste and his blood was on fire. One taste and all his hours of futile debate fell away. This was May. She’d been the first woman he’d ever desired, the only woman whose nearness he’d ever craved.

  “I take it you missed me, then?”

  In answer, he stepped toward her and settled his hands around her waist. They fit there so perfectly. “Forgive me.”

  “For keeping me waiting or for torturing yourself?” She reached a hand up as she spoke, feathering it over the lingering bruise on his cheek.

  “For exposing you to danger when I vowed to keep it away from you.”

  May eased against him, stroking along his arms before entwining her hands behind his nape. “And then you vowed to keep yourself away from me? Unfortunately, you asked me a question which prevents our separation.” She pressed her body closer. “I prefer another vow. An exchange of vows. Yours and mine.”

  Why had he wasted two days? She was lush and warm in his arms and looked at him without a hint of resentment or well-deserved anger. She looked at him as if he and this moment mattered more than all the rest. May had a gift for that. For embracing each and every moment, rather than being hindered by the past.

  “Shall I name the day?” she asked as she threaded her fingers through the hair that brushed his collar.

  He kissed her, thinking it the best answer he could offer. She responded by lifting onto her toes, teasing him with tenderness before letting him deepen the kiss, taste her as he had ached to do for what seemed like weeks.

  “Name the day, love.” He’d marry her the same hour if he could rustle up a vicar.

  May pulled back with one of her supremely satisfied grins. “Why not today? In a few hours?” She ran the backs of her fingers over the stubble along his jaw.

  “I should shave first,” he teased, though he loved the sensation of her fingers raking through his whiskers so much he didn’t want her to stop.

  “Yes,” she said in all seriousness. She truly meant for him to go and shave, and for the two of them to exchange vows in a matter of hours.

  Impatient, beautiful woman.

  He lifted a hand to caress her cheek. “I take it this isn’t entirely spontaneous.”

  “Well . . . ” She lowered her eyes a moment and failed to look believably abashed. “Let’s just say that Mr. Brooks is prepared to do his valet duties quickly, a church has been secured, and our requisite witnesses will be in attendance.” She glanced over his shoulder at the clutter of documents on his desk. “Don’t forget to bring the license.”

  With that, she lifted up once more and nuzzled the edge of his jaw. “We must hurry.” Though even as she urged haste, she lingered in his arms, kissing him as if they had hours to love each other. Then she pulled away, reached down to clasp his hand, and tugged him toward the hallway.

  Jack Sullivan stood near the threshold, conversing with Lady Emily Markham, and Mrs. Hark set a tea tray on the hall table.

  “Every thing’s prepared for you, Mr. Leighton.” Brooks spoke from midway up the stairs where he waited for Rex.

  Somehow, May had already become mistress of his home. And he loved it. He imagined himself possessed of decent management skills, but he suspected May would put him to shame.

  “You already have them all dancing to your tune, love.” He stroked the slope of her back. “How do you manage it?”

  “The lady is gracious and kind. She knows how to say please and thank you, Mr. Leighton,” Mrs. Hark said as she poured milk into Lady Emily’s teacup.

  “I say thank you,” Rex protested.

  His housekeeper’s eyebrows shot into her grayed hairline.

  “Sometimes,” he added.

  “You’re a fine master, Mr. Leighton.” Mrs. Hark grinned as she moved toward him, placing a hand at his elbow and urging him toward the stairs. “And soon you’ll be a fine husband, I’m sure. Might start by not keeping your pretty bride waiting.”

  After kissing May once more, causing Mrs. Hark to turn her head away as if she was a prudish miss, Rex headed up the stairs, sending Brooks scampering ahead of him. Charlie joined the parade too, apparently
too agitated from the excitement in the air to remain at his usual resting place in front of the office fireplace.

  May is mine. The sentiment was no longer about possession, but wonder. Eagerness. Gratitude that swelled in his chest, settling every doubt, erasing every worry. Tonight and every day to come, they’d share a bed, share a life, share a future.

  MAY HAD TAKEN hours to prepare for her trip to Rex’s townhouse, allowing a maid to lace and pin and hook her into half a dozen layers, sitting still while another wrangled her curls and dressed her hair, fastening on the jewelry she’d been looking forward to wearing since she was a girl. Her mother had picked out a special set, fashioned in diamonds and pearls, to be worn on her wedding day.

  It was almost unfair, then, that after disappearing up the stairs for a little over half an hour, Rex emerged looking devastatingly handsome, clean-shaven, and elegantly dressed. The white fabric of his shirt set off the sharp angles of his jaw, lighting up his olive skin and extraordinary eyes. The raven dark of his formal suit favored the broad expanse of his shoulders, the long, firm length of his legs. The dove gray cloth of his waistcoat shimmered like the walls of the Pinnacle’s ballroom.

  He took her hand, bowing to kiss it like a quintessential gentleman. “Shall we depart?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t wish to wait a moment longer to start their life together.

  He glanced around the hall, as if realizing they were alone. “Where are the others?”

  “Emily headed out in the Ashworth carriage, and Mr. Sullivan insisted on obtaining his own conveyance.”

  “You’re ready for all of this?” His hands enveloped hers, warming her until she felt a kind of peaceful glow infusing her body. He wasn’t asking about the wedding but about him. Perhaps he was asking her to snuff out whatever flicker of doubt still lingered.

  May nodded. She was more than ready. Despite her mother’s admonitions, she’d never learned patience.

  “You’ll be happy as a businessman’s wife?” A tremulous smile lit up his face. Perhaps he sensed the irony in his question too. That she’d been raised to marry an aristocrat and had only ever loved Rex, now a man of commerce, as ambitious as her father.

  “I will if you will,” she whispered. “You’ll be content as businesswoman’s husband?” The moment felt delicate, fragile, as if this was the exchange of their true vows.

  Rex scooped her up, nearly lifting her off her feet, and said against her neck. “I will if you will.”

  He gripped her hand, sealing their palms together, and led her straight out the front door. Mrs. Hark had arranged for his fancy brougham to be brought ’round and await them at the curb.

  As they settled into the carriage, Rex reached for her hand again. “Thank you for arranging all of this. For knowing just what I needed.”

  May smiled, then turned her head to watch Belgravia pass by as they proceeded to the small parish church on Marylebone Road. She hoped that what awaited Rex in their future, all the love they’d been waiting to give each other for six years, would be just what he needed.

  Epilogue

  Three months later

  “DELIVERY HAS ARRIVED.” One of the work crewmen stood in the doorway of Rex’s management office at the Pinnacle.

  “Do I need to sign for it?” he asked, looking up from a letter he was crafting to one of his factory managers.

  “Think it’s for the missus.” The man tipped his chin toward the adjoining office, separated from Rex’s by a half wall and four panels of artfully cut glass.

  Rex stood and approached the open door between the two rooms, smiling at the sight of May bent over a watercolor. “Delivery for you, Mrs. Leighton.”

  She offered him a beaming smile that set off a current of frisson, warming him, arousing him, stoking that powerful mix of tenderness and need that she always sparked in him.

  “It’s my fabric, I think.” Setting her paintbrush aside, she started toward him, stroking a hand down his arm before crossing the room to direct the workman as to where the bolts of fabric should be stored.

  Rex got an inordinate thrill out of watching her work, managing people and activities with effortless ease. He didn’t know if business acumen could be inherited. But whether innate or learned from her father or Mr. Graves, May’s skills were impressive.

  When the messenger departed, he came up behind her, wrapping his hands around her waist. “Are these fabrics for the hotel, Ashworth’s house, or London Sedgwick’s?” His wife was the busiest woman he knew.

  She’d begun making suggestions for the hotel’s décor as soon as they’d moved into their rooms, and the decorator he’d hired seemed willing to entertain her ideas. The redesign of Ashworth’s house had begun soon after they’d wed, and the refurbishment of the Sedgwick property on Oxford Street was well underway. At first, her continual jaunts to the duke’s house, where she might encounter Devenham, set Rex’s teeth on edge. But after one visit to see the changes made based on her designs, he understood the nature of her endeavor. Design was a passion, and her talent for it transformed a room so completely that people seemed to behave differently in it. As if the colors and textures affected their moods and outlook. Lady Emily and her father certainly seemed pleased with the changes.

  “For none of those projects, actually. I’ve taken on another.”

  He appreciated his wife’s energy and her need to stay busy. He was the last to complain about anyone’s commitment to work, but May sometimes worked more hours than he did. “Do you really wish to juggle so many?”

  She tipped back her head to gaze at him. “This one may cause me to step back from the others. Or at least take them at a bit slower pace.”

  “Sounds like a big project.” He couldn’t imagine any task being so daunting it could slow her down.

  “Perhaps, but I’m hoping for your help.”

  For a lady who’d been raised in luxury, served and pampered in every way, Rex had quickly learned May possessed a fiercely independent streak. He loved that she was asking him to help her in any endeavor.

  “You can always count me in, love.”

  “Excellent.” She smiled back at him. “Though I should warn you that it will involve extensive hours, a good deal of worry, and a long-term investment.”

  “Are you going to tell me what this project is, or do I need to seduce it out of you?” He nuzzled her neck, tilting his hips suggestively against her.

  She laughed and grasped his hands where they rested at her waist. With a tug, she pulled them down to cover her belly. “I like to call this project Baby Leighton.”

  For a lost moment he froze, everything in him tensing, not in fear, not in those terrible hot-cold shivers, but in disbelief. He’d dreamed of having a child with May. They’d even discussed the prospect, but now that the moment was upon him, it seemed almost too great a blessing to take in.

  If meeting May again and marrying her was the answer to all he’d been seeking his entire life, this was a reward beyond even his loftiest daydreams.

  She turned in his arms and placed a hand on his face. “We have months to plan. When he—or she—arrives, the hotel will be nearly finished.”

  He managed a nod while looking into her eyes. “Yes.”

  When she offered her sunniest smile, all the tension in his body melted. He embraced her, lifting her in his arms, to kiss her hair, her neck, and then take her lips.

  Breathless minutes later, all he could manage was “Thank you.”

  May laughed. “I believe we’re equally responsible for this project.”

  “We should send a telegram to your father.” A few months before, Rex would have been shocked to hear the words come out of his mouth, but he and May’s father had achieved an unexpectedly congenial peace before the man returned to New York. Returning to the States seemed to have tempered Sedgwick a bit, and he was throwing himself into the improvement of his department stores in New York and Chicago.

  Before he’d left London, Rex had joined Sedgwick at his
club to discuss business on more than one occasion. Not with any end or gain in mind but simply as an exchange of ideas between two businessman.

  “He will be over the moon to hear he’s going to be a grandfather,” May said. Lifting her arms, May clasped her hands behind Rex’s neck. “Speaking of grandfathers, don’t forget that yours is coming for tea this afternoon.”

  “Yes, I remember.” Whereas Rex had made peace with Seymour Sedgwick, his relationship with Lord Camford remained tangled. Sedgwick wanted nothing from him, except his promise to love and care for May. That was easy to give.

  The baron, however, wanted more. That Rex should be pleased to join in family gatherings and, someday, accept an inheritance he’d set aside for Rex. Neither prospect interested him in the least.

  Breaking through his cloudy thoughts, May asked, “Will this change anything between you and Lord Camford?”

  “Maybe it will.” She was right to ask, as she usually was. Having a child did highlight the importance of family and heritage. He might detest the notion of being an aristocrat’s grandson, but he could not deny his child that connection. Perhaps their child would embrace his or her extended family and have a different kind of relationship with Rex’s grandfather than Rex ever had the opportunity to have.

  “Do you think our child will wish to marry into the aristocracy? Will he want to live in an estate in the country rather than a hotel?” Even as he asked the questions, Rex sensed there was a very real possibility that the child would.

  “We can’t choose our families,” May said. “But we’ll allow our child to choose his or her future.”

  “Yes.” Rex grinned. “Baby Leighton might grow up and decide all these rooms would be more useful serving as a school or hospital of some kind.”

  “Ever practical, aren’t you?” May teased.

  “I suspect I won’t be practical when the baby arrives. I might spoil her a bit.”

  May tapped her lower lip as if considering the matter. “Speaking as someone who was spoiled by her parents as a child, I do recommend it.”

  Rex chuckled. “Then it’s settled.” He stroked a hand up her back, loving the way she leaned against him. She trusted that he was there to hold her. “Where’s that bolt of fabric that was just delivered going? You said it was part of your new project.”