An Affair with a Notorious Heiress

by Lorraine Heath

  “I’m asking you to stand by me and make me happy.”

  Then they were no longer waltzing. He’d gone down on one knee. “Marry me.”

  The music had again halted; the couples had ceased dancing.

  “You have gone mad.”

  “Madly in love with you.”

  “But my reputation. I’m notorious—”

  “I don’t give a fig. I love you, with my heart and my soul and my body. I will go wherever you will have me, wherever you will be happy.”

  The tears rolled onto her cheeks. “I love you so much. I’m afraid to love you this much.”

  “Don’t be. For however much you love me, I shall love you more. I shall never be unfaithful. I shall go to bed each night deciding what I can do the next day to make you even happier.”

  She saw the truth, his devotion, his belief in the rightness of their future mirrored in his eyes. “I shall go to bed each night doing the same. Never in my life have I wanted anything more than I want to be your wife. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

  He rose to his feet, cradled her face, and kissed her tenderly. Then he swung around, took her hand, and lifted it.

  “She has agreed to become my wife!” he announced, then brought her fingers to his lips. “A more fortunate man there has never been.”

  Nor, she thought, had there ever been a more fortunate lady.

  Tillie was surprised by all the congratulations and well wishes. She’d expected them from Rex’s family and her own, but there were a few people she’d not spoken to in years who offered her their best. She didn’t know if it was because her sins were forgiven or they didn’t want to risk falling out of favor with such an influential family. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

  It was an odd thing to realize how much she’d allowed her past choices to influence her actions, to cause her to view herself through the lens Society held when in truth all that mattered was how she viewed herself. She’d never been ashamed of what she’d done but she’d retreated. No more.

  Rex held her in his arms and swept her over the dance floor, his gaze never leaving hers.

  “I don’t know that I’ve seen you look so happy or smile so much,” he said now.

  “Love does that, doesn’t it? Makes all right with the world?”

  “I think that discovery calls for a private celebration. Care to be scandalous and slip away with me?”

  “What notorious woman worth her reputation wouldn’t accept such an enticing proposal?”

  Although she arrived in her own carriage, she left in his. As soon as the coach door closed on them, he drew her onto his lap and kissed her enthusiastically. She had missed this so much: his nearness, his passion, his devotion. How had she ever thought she would be happy without him in her life?

  “Dear God, but I’ve nearly gone mad with missing you,” he rasped, trailing his mouth over her neck to her shoulder and back up again.

  “You’ve missed the sex.”

  “I did, but it was more than that. It’s always been different with you—more intense, more frightening, more demanding.”

  She leaned back. “Frightening?”

  He began removing the pins from her hair, scattering them about the vehicle. “I always worried when you left me that you might not come back, that I may have failed in communicating exactly how precious you are to me. Justifiable concern based on the past few days and nights.”

  Her hair tumbled around her, and he gathered a good portion of it up in one large hand. How she had longed to have those hands skimming over her again. She cradled his face. “Let’s focus on moving forward from this moment and not thinking on the past.”

  “From this moment on.” Then he again took her mouth, his taste rich and decadent. His tongue slid deliciously over hers and she knew very soon it would be sliding elsewhere, creating wondrous sensations as it was wont to do.

  The coach slowed, turned onto a drive, came to a halt outside his residence.

  “It would be ungentlemanly of me not to give my mistress a proper farewell,” he said wickedly before disembarking from the vehicle and handing her down.

  “She would be disappointed indeed not to have time with you before you marry,” she teased as he swept her into his arms and carried her up the steps, into the manor, and up the stairs.

  Once in his bedchamber, he set her feet on the carpet and took her mouth with fervent passion, his hands skimming over her.

  “Ah, this room has missed you,” he rasped when he finally drew back.

  “I missed it. You spoiled me. Nights without you were the loneliest of my life.”

  “You shall never have another.”

  “When will we marry?”

  “As soon as possible. In the meantime—”

  In spite of the numerous kisses, touches, gazes, they made short work of removing each other’s clothing. The bed beckoned and they answered the call, racing to it and falling on it in a tangle of arms and legs.

  How had she ever thought she could find this with anyone in New York or elsewhere?

  “I don’t want to go to New York straightaway,” she said as his heated mouth coated her throat in dew. “I want to be here for Gina, help her find someone who deserves her.”

  Lifting himself up, he gazed down on her. “As you wish.”

  She combed her fingers up into his hair. “Attending the ball wasn’t as awful as I expected.”

  “High praise indeed for my proposal.”

  She laughed. God, she did love him and his teasing. “That part was absolutely wonderful. No, I meant the people. I received many more congratulations than I expected. Perhaps we’ll just take it a day at a time.”

  “We’ll take it however you want.” He gave her a devilish grin. “Speaking of taking it . . .”

  He rolled over her, clasped her to him, rolled some more until he was on his back and she was straddling him. “You once told me you wanted me to be your slave.” He stretched his arms over his head. “Do with me as you will.”

  He looked so gloriously decadent lying there, completely at her mercy, giving her the freedom to do as she would. “I was a different woman then.” Lowering herself, she ran her tongue around his nipple, relished his groan. “I wanted control, thought I needed it.” She suckled the turgid tip. He growled. “With you, I never seem to give it up. We’re equals in the bed. Equals out of it. I love you, Rex, more than I thought it possible to love anyone.”

  With a feral snarl, he captured her mouth while plunging his cock home, filling her, stretching her. She cried out with the joy of it, the sensation of closing tightly around his length, owning him while he possessed her. The beauty of being with him was that even when he took, he gave. He made her powerful, confident. He erased all her doubts.

  Those wonderful hands of his kneaded her breasts, pinched her nipples. Moving his hands around to her back, he rose up slightly and stroked his tongue over the taut peaks, soothing them even as he caused excitement to run rampant through her. Arching her back, riding him hard and fast, she felt the pressure beginning to build in her—in him. His arms tightened around her as his mouth journeyed up to hers, capturing her lips as effectively as he’d captured her heart. They would have a lifetime of this—of moving in tandem, of seeking pleasure together, of cries, and gasps, and God’s name softly taken in vain.

  She did love when he growled out profanity like a debauched libertine discovering unexplored aspects to ecstasy. It made her feel as though what he experienced with her were things he’d never experienced with another, that for all his vast knowledge when it came to women, she was still able to surprise him, to take him off guard. To please him, thrill him, and make him ever so glad that she was the woman in his arms, in his bed.

  With a feral growl, he clutched her close, rolled her over so her back hit the mattress and he was looming over her, holding her gaze as though it were the anchor in the storm. “Scream for me, Tillie.”

  “Make me, my lord.”

  His deep laughter
echoed around her as he thrust into her with purpose and determination. As she dug her fingers into his firm buttocks, she clasped her legs around his hips, holding him as tightly as possible while the sensations coiled and spiraled, propelling her into the realm of cataclysmic pleasure.

  She did scream—for him, for herself, for the pure joy that rocked through her body.

  He followed, plunging deep and sure with his final thrusts as his back arched and he bellowed her name through gritted teeth, before collapsing on top of her, covered in dew, pressing his forehead to hers.

  “We shall no doubt live a short life,” he breathed out on a warm chuckle, pressing a kiss to her nose, her chin. “Making love to you as often as I intend is likely to kill me when all is said and done.”

  “Oh, but what a life it shall be.”

  “The very best, Tillie, I promise you that. Whether here in England or in New York, I shall do all in my power to ensure you awaken every morning glad to find me in your bed.”

  She had no doubt whatsoever that she would always be glad to find him in her bed, to have him in her life.

  Four Years Later

  Marriage the second time around was so much better than the first that there were times when Tillie could actually look on her marriage to Downie as not a complete catastrophe because it had eventually in a roundabout way led her to Rex. Sitting with him in the grandstand at Epsom Downs, surrounded by his family and hers, she could not have been happier or known a keener sense of satisfaction.

  “Lady Rexton, upon whom should I wager?” Bertie, Prince of Wales, called out to her as he passed.

  Wherever she went these days, people greeted her with fondness and respect. Oh, there were a few who held on to old grudges but since she now counted the wives of some of the most influential families among her friends, she took any snubs she received with a grain of salt. She knew there was nothing she and Rex couldn’t weather together.

  “If you wish to win, Your Highness, you should place your money on Notorious.”

  “Not biased are you?”

  “Terribly,” she assured him.

  With a laugh, he turned to a man following him, said something, and the young gent rushed off.

  “Dear God, I do hope our stallion wins,” Rex said sotto voice, “or we may find in a few years I have no title to inherit.”

  “How can he not win when he is the progeny of Black Diamond and Fair Vixen?”

  “Here he comes,” he said with pride, ducking beneath the broad brim of her hat to buss a quick kiss for luck over her cheek.

  She watched as Notorious, gorgeous with his shiny dark brown coat, was paraded before them on his way to the starting gate. The odds were against the three-year-old winning his first race. But then that was to be expected when Rex hadn’t let anyone outside of those who resided at Kingsbrook Park see the colt run. Tillie had a feeling the servants had made wagers on the outcome. She did hope they wouldn’t all resign from their positions based on their winnings.

  She and Rex spent most of their time at Kingsbrook, only occasionally going into London, even though she was now comfortable moving about the city and attending all the various and numerous social affairs to which they were invited. But they both loved the horses so much that they were happiest spending their days in their company, even taking a hand in training them now and then. Although truth be told, as long as Rex was with her, she was joyful to be anywhere. He was her home.

  They’d traveled to New York. It wasn’t as she’d remembered—or perhaps it was just that she’d changed so much she no longer felt as though she fit as comfortably as she once had. But she’d certainly enjoyed forcing those who once snubbed her mother to address her using her title. She’d even run into Anson. A sadder looking fellow she’d never seen, and she found it difficult to believe she’d once pinned her hopes for happiness on him. Much better to be responsible for her own happiness, to secure it through her own efforts, to be with a man who wasn’t at all threatened by her independent nature, who encouraged and took pride in it.

  “Notorious doesn’t seem bothered by the noise or the crowds,” she said now to her husband.

  He smiled down on her. “For one so young, he has an amazing amount of confidence. He knows he’s going to win.”

  “I hope so, for your sake. You’re going to lose a small fortune if he doesn’t.”

  “Not to worry. I married an heiress. She has the means to see me well taken care of if need be.”

  Laughing, she wound her arm around his, squeezed. He’d yet to touch as much as a penny. Still, she no longer considered her inheritance as hers, but she saw it as theirs. Everything they possessed was theirs. They shared equally in all aspects of their lives. She’d always dreamed of having this sort of marriage. The reality of it was so much better than anything she’d ever imagined.

  As Notorious entered the starting gate, Tillie drew a sharp breath.

  “He’s going to do fine,” Rex said.

  The pistol report echoed around them. She was torn between squeezing her eyes shut and watching. In the middle of the pack, the horse was magnificent, his muscles bunching and stretching—

  Moving up until he was in third place.

  Then when the finish line came into view, he poured his heart and soul into his efforts, passing the other horses as though they stood still. Tillie was shouting and crying as Notorious crossed the finish line well ahead of the others.

  “We’ve got our winner!” Rex shouted as he drew her against him and kissed her with as much enthusiasm as Notorious had exhibited completing the race.

  She might have blushed, except she’d grown accustomed to the ease with which he kissed her in public, and those who knew them came to expect it. The Marquess of Rexton was known to be madly in love with his wife, and never missed an opportunity to show her and the world how much he adored her.

  When he drew back, he shook hands with his brothers and brother-in-law, hugged his sister and sisters-in-law. Tillie embraced Gina. “I’m so glad you could be here today.”

  “I wouldn’t have missed it.”

  Rex slid his arm around Tillie and drew her up against his side. “Come, my lady. Let’s go down and thank our winner, shall we?”

  She smiled up at him. “We have another winner on the way.”

  His brow furrowed. “Fair Vixen hasn’t recovered from the last foal she delivered. I don’t see how—” He stopped, dropped his gaze to her belly, then lifted his eyes to hers. “You?”

  Nodding, she held back the squeal she wanted to release. She’d been holding the secret for a while, waiting for the right moment. “Finally, I’m with child.”

  His smile was so tender and loving that she felt lighthearted. After all this time, he still had the power to make her feel giddy and young, to let her know without words that nothing in his life was more precious than she.

  “With you as the mother, he—or she—will most certainly be a winner.”

  Dipping his head down, he once again took her mouth. She reveled in the way his arms closed protectively around her, the way he announced without words that nothing in his life was more precious than she. But then it was only fair because she felt the same way about him. He had pieced back together her heart and would forever hold it in his keeping.

  Epilogue

  From the Journal of the Marquess of Rexton

  I had always wanted to marry a woman above reproach. But like my father, I discovered what I wanted was not what I needed. What I needed was Tillie, always and forever.

  The love the aristocracy eventually bestowed upon her was unrivaled. Her sympathy and compassion toward anyone who suffered through difficulties was unparalleled. Our world was changing and many turned to her to lead the way. Divorce became more common and while not wholly accepted, people did become more sympathetic toward those who chose that route.

  Notorious was a champion in England and abroad. He, in turn, sired future champions.

  As did Tillie. Our children were our
pride and joy. They made our life so much richer. At the family estate, we would sit in the garden and watch our children riding the roundabout, their laughter echoing over the green, mingling with that of their cousins. As our children grew toward adulthood, the wooden creatures eventually sat idle, waiting for the next generation. The wind and sun and rain took their toll.

  When we were blessed with grandchildren, Tillie and I stood in the garden and watched as the workers dismantled the roundabout, so it could be repaired, painted, and made to look as it once did. We knew the sons and grandsons of Mr. Durham would take great care to make it right again.

  While they worked, I held Tillie close, snuggled against me, her head pressed to my chest, so I could easily reach down to kiss her temple. When I think on that moment, I see it and hear the words as clearly as if all had happened yesterday.

  “Are you going to ask them to bring you the notes hidden inside the horse?” she asked.

  “No, I don’t think so. If they find them, let them make up stories about them. And if they don’t, perhaps they’ll be discovered a hundred years from now. Do you remember what you wrote?”

  Turning in my arms, she dropped her head back to hold my gaze. “Do you remember what you wrote?” she asked.

  “I do.”

  “I’ll tell if you will.”

  “Shall we flip a coin to see who goes first?”

  She laughed. The years had been filled with her laughter. “No, you’d only use one of your cheating coins.” She brushed the hair back from my brow. “I wrote: I wish I’d loved him first. And you, what did you write?”

  “I wish I’d loved her first.” I bracketed her face between my hands and looked into the blue depths of her eyes, feeling as though I were once again falling for her. I was constantly falling for her. “But all that truly matters, Tillie, is that we loved each other last.”

  Then I kissed her as I have these many years, with my heart and my soul and all that I was.