Jenna Stewart

by The Sisters O'Ryan

  “I’d better go,” he said in a low voice.

  “I’ll see you downstairs,” she replied, smiling at him in the mirror.

  “Yes.” He looked uncomfortable, and for the first time she wondered if her passions might overcome his. Or—a shiver ran down her back—did she not please him? Maybe this had been a terrible idea. Maybe he would think them incompatible in that most intimate of ways and the power she sought would be lost before she even said “I do.”

  He listened at the door before opening it and slipping out.

  Well, she had done her best. If she hadn’t performed well enough, she would fix it that night. She would make a success of this marriage, and she would assume her place in society, safe and sound in the Berwick wealth and position. This was what she had aimed for ever since the concept of marriage had been introduced to her and her sisters as girls, and she was close enough now to taste victory.

  Things hadn’t worked out so well for two of her sisters. Siobhan had watched Regan, her eldest sibling, marry on impulse and contrariness and suffer a disinheritance and then widowhood only months later. God only knew where she was now, poor and alone, probably, somewhere in the wilderness of Oregon. Though a friend had visited the family a while back and said Regan was well and happy, Siobhan wondered how that could be true. How could she be happy, really, out west, far from any society?

  Her next sister had been forced through obedience to their father into a loveless marriage with a man who was cruel and faithless—traits Siobhan had recognized in him immediately. Unfortunately, no amount of reasoning could convince Anya to break the betrothal. After almost two years of marriage, she remained as much under her husband’s thumb as she had been under their father’s. When her husband forbade her attendance at Siobhan’s wedding, Anya had acquiesced.

  Well, Siobhan had taken care not to fall into either trap. She did not seek love, that most perfidious of emotions, and through careful selection of an eminently suitable mate, she had superseded her father’s interference.

  Once meeting Micah, she had planned her attack well. He came from a wealthy, renowned family. He was educated and gentlemanly and ran a part of the family business with his twin, Andrew. Married to Micah, she would enjoy a life of privilege. If she didn’t love him, she liked him. He was kind and fun. Love might come later—or not. She knew she would make a good, socially acceptable wife, and that was what a man in his position needed. First, however, she wanted a little control, a bit of power, and an heir to solidify her position.

  And tonight, even before the vows were spoken, she’d started the wheels turning on all three.

  Chapter Two

  “Have you seen Siobhan? Her sister says she was supposed to meet her in the parlor ten minutes ago. And where the hell have you been?” Andrew Berwick shot his twin a glare, which Micah returned with a smirk.

  “None of your damn business. You’re my brother and best man, not my keeper.” He tugged on his tuxedo jacket and smoothed the front of his trousers, hoping no creases remained from where he had pressed Siobhan into the wall.

  “Huh. Knowing you and the lack of seriousness you give to any situation, you were off banging one of the many bridesmaids Siobhan insisted on.” He made the comment offhandedly, but when he looked at Micah, his mouth fell open and his eyes widened. “Oh my God, you were, and just minutes before your wedding.”

  “Stuff it, Drew. That’s not what I was doing.”

  Drew studied Micah’s face, shook his head, and relented. “Well, Father has had me looking everywhere for you. He wants to see you before the impending nuptials, and there’s little time now.”

  With a frown, Micah followed Drew down the marble-floored hallway to their father’s study. When he had a home of his own—soon, now—he wouldn’t tolerate marble anywhere. Its coldness personified his father’s house and personality. Warmth would reflect his own home. Or fire, after what he’d just discovered about Siobhan.

  Well, that was one worry crossed off his list. He didn’t love his soon-to-be bride, though he had lusted after her as soon as they met. At least now he knew they would be compatible in that way most men desired compatibility with their wives. Siobhan burned with passion. He would love taking her to bed, even if he didn’t love her as a wife.

  With effort, he pulled his mind off his luscious bride and back to matters at hand. “What’s he want?”

  “God knows.” Drew knocked on the plain mahogany door.

  “Enter!”

  Drew twisted the crystal knob and swung open the door. He dipped a formal bow, and Micah followed suit. As if to royalty instead of to a man who sired us and then ignored us all these years.

  Micah nodded to Stephen, their younger brother by nine years, who sat off to the side of the desk behind which their father sat.

  “Sir,” Micah started, “you wish to see me?”

  “Yes, and about time you decided to make an appearance.”

  “I was otherwise occupied.”

  “Yes…I imagine with some ridiculous enterprise, as you usually are.”

  Micah bristled with anger. His father never passed an opportunity to belittle him. And why? Because he enjoyed life? Liked laughing with his friends and lived for something other than business and the price of lumber and steel?

  He thought of Siobhan’s legs wrapped around his waist, her satiny skin beneath his fingers, her hard nipple in his mouth, and the heat of her pussy surrounding his cock. “Not a ridiculous endeavor in the least.”

  His father harrumphed. “That would be a first then. Sit down, the two of you.”

  Micah wanted to walk out, slamming the door in his wake, but years of conditioning made him take a seat next to Drew before the ornately carved, engulfing, hickory-wood desk their grandfather, a business magnate in his own right, had passed down.

  “I have decided to open a branch of Berwick Transport.”

  “When did you decide this?” Drew sat up straight and stared at the older man, whom they resembled so much. Same straight nose, firm mouth, and blue eyes. There would never be any question of their lineage. Not so their younger brother, who so greatly resembled their delicately featured mother, one might think he had sprung from her without benefit of a sire.

  “I’ve been working side by side with you for seven years, and you’ve never mentioned another office.” Drew expected to inherit the position of president when their father left the business, and had applied himself accordingly.

  “It was Stephen’s idea, actually.”

  Astounded, Micah looked to his brother. He had also worked in the main office, but Micah had no notion the twenty-one-year-old had been so involved as to make major suggestions.

  “Well.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say. Nothing seemed adequate for the astounding revelations being dropped on them.

  “I have also made the suggestion of another office, several times.” Drew’s voice held an edge rarely heard. “You always said Berwick Transport started in Boston and would stay in Boston. What changed your mind?”

  “Perhaps he phrased it better than you.” The elder Berwick smirked, not knowing how much he and Drew hated it.

  Micah willed Drew to stay calm. Don’t let the old man get to you.

  Methodically pulling out his pocket watch and examining it, his father said, “The office will be in California. San Francisco, to be exact. A factory site has already been purchased to begin manufacturing on the West Coast.”

  Stephen rubbed his hands together, a glitter in his eye. “Excellent, father. It’s just as I suggested.”

  “And I am giving the vice presidency to you, Micah, as a wedding gift.”

  “What!” Stephen leapt from his chair and firmly planted his palms on the desk, leaning toward their father with fire in his eyes.

  Drew sat stiffly, mouth in a thin line and hands gripping the chair arms.

  “Sit down, Stephen.” Their father’s tone brooked no argument. With obvious reluctance, Stephen took his seat.

/>   “I know you thought I would send you to manage the new offices, but you’re too young, not even out of school.” He didn’t mention Drew, who had poured heart and soul into the company for years, even before his years at Harvard where his diligence took honors.

  With some sympathy for both brothers, Micah did what he could to repair the damage. “Father, with all due respect and gratitude for the wedding gift, I can’t possibly assume control of an office. I know the basics of the manufacturing work, yes, but not the business side of things.”

  “And that’s why I’m sending Drew. He will be your manager.”

  “What?” Drew fairly shouted the word. “You can’t control my life that way, I won’t hear of it.”

  “You’re twins,” their father spat out. “For all of your lives I’ve watched you shut out the rest of the world while you communicated in some kind of satanic secret language. You know each other’s thoughts, you finish each other’s sentences. Who knows what would happen to my investment if I separated you by a continent? No. I won’t do it.” He pointed a pen at Micah. “Since you’ve never been any good at worthwhile endeavors, you need help. Who will do that if not Andrew?”

  “As usual, you’re being unfair. I completed Harvard with respectable grades.” Here he was, a full-grown man still trying to please his father. Art was his passion, but he had pursued business at Harvard because he and Drew had been expected to participate in Berwick Transport when they graduated. After all that, he had not been permitted to join the company except at the most rudimentary level—on the factory floor, to learn from the ground up, he’d been told. Lately, he’d given thought to devoting himself full-time to his art and the wagon business be damned. He had waited for his marriage, in the making these past fifteen months, to initiate any major moves.

  “If you hadn’t spent so much time playing cards and pursuing that silly painting nonsense, you’d have done better. I’ve been waiting to see you become a man and assume responsibility. Well, my agreement with Walter O’Ryan has brought things to a head. You are marrying his daughter and I have assured him you will become a steady, moral man with good prospects. You will go to San Francisco. You will be the titular head of the West Coast enterprise and you will conduct yourself in a manner I would approve.” He aimed the pen at Drew. “And you will accompany him. You will ensure the company does not languish, that it prospers. He’s your brother, and more. The other half of yourself. You will leave within the week.”

  “What?” Micah couldn’t believe his ears. “In case you’ve forgotten, sir, I am about to marry. My bride has planned an elaborate honeymoon to Italy. I owe her that before uprooting her life.”

  “Get your priorities in order. The factory space is already purchased. I won’t allow it to sit empty while you run off to Italy with a flibbertigibbet of a girl. Put your foot down. Establish yourself as the law in the family, as the Good Book says. You are a son of Adam, while she is of Eve. Do not let her take the upper hand lest you be led down the serpent’s path.”

  Lastly, his gaze landed on Stephen who slouched in his chair, lower lip out, pouting like a child. “And you will complete your schooling and continue working here. If and when I deem you ready, I will perhaps consider another office. Or by then I may be ready to step down and you can take over as head.”

  Micah sensed the anger in Drew, as well as bitter disappointment.

  Their father stood. “Now it’s time to attend a wedding.” He gazed thoughtfully at Micah. “And it’s time for you to begin maturing. Become a high-minded, steadfast man I can be proud of”—his face took on the puritanical sternness they had witnessed all their lives—”or I will bring you down, son or no son. You may be seen as head of the West Coast works, but I am the power. Never forget it.”

  He left the room and three of his offspring seething.

  “Well, happy fucking wedding,” Stephen said, bumping into Micah as he passed by.

  “What the hell was that all about?” Micah asked Drew.

  “Just about what we should have expected. He’s controlled us like marionettes all our lives, and this is no different.” Drew shook his head as though to rid his mind of the shock.

  “Drew, I’m sorry. If there was any way I could stop this from happening…”

  Drew slapped his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. You heard him. I could stay here and work the rest of my life and still he might turn over the reins to Stephen. At least in California we’ll be away from him, from all this”—he waved his hand and looked around the room—”darkness.”

  Micah had other thoughts. “What will Siobhan say?”

  Drew looked curiously at him. Then he grinned and snapped his fingers. “By God, that’s where you were. You fucked the bride before the wedding!”

  Micah quirked his head and grinned. Drew would never believe the truth.

  “We’d better get you to the altar, boy,” Drew said, guiding him out through the door. “And not a moment too soon.”

  * * * *

  Siobhan had had only a moment’s peace before Maire, her younger sister, burst through the door to the bedroom, chastising her for not joining her and their father downstairs to prepare for the walk down the aisle. She’d put Maire off by saying she needed a few minutes to herself, all the while hoping no sign remained of her explosive intimacy with Micah.

  Downstairs, she listened to her bridesmaids twitter on about nothing, while puffing her sleeves, arranging her veil and generally making over her. All she could think about was the volcanic eruption of emotion she felt under Micah’s skilled hands. It had been Micah, it must have been.

  His mouth on her nipples had set her blood afire, but his cock had initiated explosions of sensation she most definitely wanted to experience again. And again.

  When the time arrived, she took her father’s arm and began the long, metered walk down the aisle. She searched Micah’s eyes for confirmation of carnal knowledge, and found it. Then she examined Andrew, standing beside his twin, and saw the same knowing appraisal. Instead of the secret joke she intended to share with her groom, her insides quaked with insecurity. How did Andrew know? Had she indeed mistaken the twins, who appeared to be the same man somehow duplicated, or were they so close that one experienced the other’s mind and body? Or—and this thought angered her—could Micah have told his brother all about it? Had they laughed over the poor little virgin trying so hard to be a woman of the world?

  No. Micah Berwick was a gentleman, she felt certain. She had no need for anger. On the heels of that thought came another. If relations with one twin were so enjoyable—far beyond anything she could have imagined—would it be as good with the other, so alike in body and temperament? Would it be doubly incredible with both?

  She gasped, the unexpected image of two dark heads kissing her, of four arms holding her, of two huge male appendages…Doing what? Her inadequate knowledge of intercourse wouldn’t allow her imagination to go any further. She trembled with what she could imagine, however.

  “My dear,” he father whispered, “are you quite well?”

  “Yes,” she managed to whisper back. “I’m fine.”

  And with that, he handed her over to the man who would be her husband, though perhaps not the man who had invaded her body a few minutes before and deposited his seed.

  Micah took her hand and leaned close. “Was the walk down the aisle as exciting as you’d thought it would be?”

  “Even more so.” Her smile seemed to confuse him, but he smiled back, his brows cocked.

  The very idea of sharing a bed with both twins had thrilled her in a place deep inside she couldn’t identify. Like Pandora’s box, Siobhan feared she wouldn’t be able to put away the taboo desire racing through her. And she worried that once identified, she wouldn’t be happy until she had experienced her desire.

  Chapter Three

  The orchestra spun out another waltz. Andrew led Siobhan around the room, stepping to the three-quarter beat as though they’d been dancing partners
forever. Other couples turned with them, colorful, swirling dresses and somber, black tuxedos with starched white shirts forming a kaleidoscope of shapes in the overheated ballroom.

  “Would you like to step outside for a few moments?” Andrew asked.

  “If you think it would be all right,” she said.

  “Of course it’s all right.” Smoothly, he guided them to nearby French doors. “This is the bride’s event, isn’t it?” he asked, opening the door and ushering her out.

  “It is such a lovely party.”

  “A nice enough way to start a marriage, though most men would rather celebrate in another part of the house.”

  They stood on a broad, stone balcony that overlooked an extensive garden of lawn and trees. Beyond an English-style, boxwood knot garden, the Charles River wound its way to the sea. Siobhan inhaled deeply.

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she replied.

  “Don’t you?” He stared forthrightly into her eyes. “My mistake.”

  Her cheeks heated but fortunately, darkness kept her blush from showing. “I didn’t think Micah to be so ungentlemanly as to kiss and tell.”

  Andrew chuckled. “Oh, I think you did much more than kiss.” At her gasp of outrage, he held up his hand. “But he didn’t tell me a thing.”

  “Well.” She smoothed her dress and shook out the skirt just to keep from looking at him.

  “Siobhan, you and Micah haven’t had much chance to know each other very well, I fear.”

  “We’ve been acquainted for far more than a year.” She thought briefly of the party in Asheville where she’d been introduced to the handsome Boston wagon manufacturer. Her father held controlling interest in a cotton mill, and Berwick Transport had come to bid on providing wagons to bring in raw material from the fields and deliver the finished thread to trains which would carry it up to the mills in New England.

  “You met a year or so ago, but how much time have you spent in each other’s company?”