Billionaire: Billionaire Romance: Billionaire Tiger (A Billionaire New Adult Shifter Contemporary Romance)

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Billionaire: Billionaire Romance: Billionaire Tiger (A Billionaire New Adult Shifter Contemporary Romance) Page 21

by Loretta Devine


  An incubus. That was her dream lover. Seth was a demon.

  “And when were you going to tell me?’ she asked on his next visit. Her breath caught as his finger teased her nipple to a taut peak. “Seth!”

  He grinned. “Is that a problem?”

  “I don’t know,” Blair gasped as his tongue darted out to lick her breast. “Can this relationship work?”

  “Do you want it to?”

  “You know I do.”

  Seth sighed in relief and suckled her breast. Blair threaded her fingers through his hair and cradled him to her. “I think I’m…in love with you,” she whispered.

  His head shot up. “And when were you going to tell me this?”

  “I thought you knew,” she giggled. “You’re always surprising me with things.”

  Seth moved over her and kissed her tenderly. “You’re adorable. And I love you too.”

  “I’m glad,” Blair sighed happily. “But I wish I could feel you for real.” Her hands slid over his sturdy shoulders and down his back. “I hate meeting you this way.”

  “I know,” he breathed against her lips. “But it’s only for a little while, my love.”

  “I want you inside me,” she begged, arching her hips wantonly. “Put it in.”

  His eyes darkened and her mouth opened on a silent cry as he slid down and teased her with his cock. She gripped his shoulders, panting as he held off entering her and instead caressed her hungry clit. “That’s not fair,” she pouted, nipping at his chin. “You can’t make me wait.”

  “I can try,” he whispered raggedly. “You’re so wet, love.”

  Blair was growing impatient and reached down to take him in hand. He cried out and shuddered above her. His mouth swooped down as he plunged into her searing heat. “Seth!” she shrieked, wrapping herself around him. “Don’t stop,” she panted. “Don’t ever stop.”

  “You feel so good.” Seth squeezed his eyes shut and rode her to the brink. Their screams shattered the quiet cottage and he sagged against her damp body. “That was nice.”

  She curled against him and laughed softly. “Wasn’t it?”

  “I can’t get enough of you, lovely Blair.”

  “The feeling is mutual, sir.”

  Seth nuzzled her ear. “And what will you do about the cottage?”’

  “I haven’t figured it out yet, silly.”

  “Want me to help?”

  “Would you?”

  He reached out and traced a long finger down her nose. “I want you to stay.”

  “But the house needs work, Seth. I don’t know if I can afford it.”

  “Eugenia left you the money. Use that.”

  Blair smiled up at him. “And how do you know how much she left me?”

  “It’s a secret,” he grinned.

  Blair woke up missing Seth, but armed with a new determination to restore Pennhalow to its former glory. She got an estimate from the contractor and talked it over with Mr. Haines. He was dead set against it.

  “You can’t!” he protested over tea. “I thought you meant the cottage.”

  “But I thought you wanted me to restore the house and now you don’t?”

  Mr. Haines turned bright red. “You’ll burn through all your money. I thought you wanted to go to school and be a chef.”

  “I do.”

  “If you restore the house you won’t be left with a shilling.”

  “I’ll find the money,” Blair insisted. “I’ll have the house assessed.”

  “They’ll tell you the same thing. The house isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on.”

  “Since when?” Blair’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve been talking to Randall and his lovely wife, the Wicked Bitch of North London.”

  Mr. Haines choked on his bread. “I have not!” he wheezed. “They barged into my office and demanded to know where you were.”

  “And what did you tell them?”

  “I told them you’d gone back to Tucson.”

  “They didn’t believe that.”

  “No,” he gulped. “They didn’t. They want the house.” He looked guilty. “I told them it belonged to you, but they wouldn’t listen.”

  Blair swore. “So what does that mean?”

  “They hired another solicitor.”

  “And…?”

  “They’re going to contest the will.”

  She drained her glass of wine and asked for another. Blair staggered back to her little cottage thoroughly wasted. She fell asleep and told Seth. He was livid.

  “They’ll regret this,” he swore. “Wait and see.”

  Four

  Randall and Heather contested the will. Mr. Haines told Blair to let them have it. “They’ll tie this up in ligation for months if not years. All your money will be gone. Let them have the bloody house.”

  Blair figured he was right. “If I let them have the house, will I still have money for school?”

  “Sure,” Mr. Haines said brightly. “You could always go to school here.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Blair said sadly.

  In the end, Randall and Heather got Pennhalow, and Blair got two thousand pounds and a ticket back to Tucson. Josie was there to greet her.

  Blair burst into tears. “I lost the house,” she wept.

  “I hope they choke on wood rot.”

  “They might. The whole house is full of termites.”

  “No!”

  “Uh-huh.” Blair laughed a little. “And mice.”

  “See? Revenge from beyond Eugenia’s grave, I like it.”

  “I don’t. I liked that house.”

  “Well, at least you got the money.” “No, I didn’t.” Blair retrieved her suitcases. “They paid me to go away.”

  “You still have enough for school.”

  “Sure.” “Or will you be planning a funeral?”

  “I might as well,” Blair said sullenly. “I feel dead.”

  And Blair’s life went on just as it had before. Josie had moved to Phoenix and she returned to the diner having found out she didn’t have enough for school. She’d still have to take out a loan and that was the last thing she wanted to do. Randall and Heather had beaten her.

  Just like the bullies in school. She decided she couldn’t possibly be related to miserable pieces of shit like Randall and his dear wife. She’d lost the house, her inheritance, and Seth.

  He no longer visited her at night. Blair was heartbroken. But she supposed he came with the house. She wondered if Heather could be smothered in a dream.

  Blair didn’t know what to do with the money she had left. An apartment was out of the question. She could barely afford the trailer she rented behind the diner. And Al owned that. She decided to pop it into the bank and let it collect interest.

  “It’s something anyway,” she told Al over her lunch break.

  “I’m sorry, kid,” he said consolingly. He gave her another slice of apple pie. “I’d give you a raise, but I can’t afford it.”

  “That’s okay,” she croaked. “I hated England anyway. It’s like a wet sponge!”

  “Sure, kid,” he laughed. “Take an extra five on me.”

  “Thanks.”

  Weeks passed and Blair tried to forget Pennhalow and her demon lover. It was difficult to go back to the seedy trailer and know she’d never see Seth again. After working twelve-hour shifts, she’d collapse on the hard mattress and see nothing but darkness.

  As she flipped burgers and pancakes she couldn’t help but wonder why Randall and Heather wanted that old scrapheap. She also wondered if Mr. Haines was in on it. Wouldn’t be the first time she was betrayed by those she trusted.

  Blair didn’t like to rehash bad memories.

  One day in late spring, she was frying eggs and trying not to splatter herself with grease when a strange man came into the diner. He was dressed like an undertaker. She didn’t think anything of it. Most of the customers were strange. Al barked the man’s order of a medium rare burger without onions and Blair
was the one crying.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Al yelled, snatching the plate and shoving it in front of the customer. “Cry later.”

  “It’s the onions,” Blair lied.

  “Well, splash some water on your face and hurry back.”

  “Okay.”

  She fled to the bathroom and washed her eyes out. It didn’t help.

  The diner was packed full with tourists and a busload of cheerleaders on their way to a football game in Phoenix. Blair was on her feet all day, and limped to the trailer when her shift ended. She thought of soaking her swollen members but was too tired to do anything but kick off her sneakers and fling herself across the bed.

  When sleep came there was no Seth. Blair had given up on ever seeing him again. She did have a dream about Pennhalow. Randall and Heather were laughing and counting Eugenia’s money.

  A frightful pounding roused her from a fitful slumber, and Blair turned over and covered her head with a pillow. “Go away,” she groaned. “Come back another day.”

  “Blair!” Al cried. “Open this door. The police want to talk to you.”

  That did it. Blair sat up too quickly and fell on the floor. She crawled on all fours and cracked open the door. Two grumpy-looking officers stood next to Al. “Whatever it is, I didn’t do it.”

  One of the officers stepped forward. “Can you come outside, Miss?”

  “Sure,” Blair mumbled, getting to her feet and climbing down in her socks. She stifled a yawn. “What is this about, officer?”

  “Do you know a Randall Montague and his wife, Heather?”’

  “In what capacity?”

  “Annie!” Al hissed. “Behave.”

  She shot him a baleful glare and said, “He was a distant cousin. Why?”

  The officers exchanged knowing glances. “We’re sorry to have to tell you this, but they’re dead.”

  “Come again?” Blair was sure she hadn’t heard him correctly. “Did you say they were dead?”

  “Yes, Miss.” The officer pulled out a notepad and tore off a sheet. “You’ll need to call this number.” He handed her the piece of paper. “Scotland Yard will have all the information you need.”

  “How did they die?”

  “They were stabbed to death. Some junkie broke into the house they were renovating and attacked them in their sleep.” The officer grimaced. “It’s all over the Net. I’m surprised no one notified you.”

  “I’m not.” Blair folded the piece of paper and tucked it into her jean pocket. “I don’t have family I’m close to.”

  “Sorry to hear that.” The officer nodded and tipped his hat to her. The other did the same and then they were gone. Al patted her on the back.

  “Tough break, kid.”

  “You’re telling me.” Blair reached into her pocket and took out the slip of paper with an address and phone number on it. She tore it up.

  “What did you do that for?” Al cried.

  “What’s it to me?” Blair cried. “They took my house and the money. They died for nothing and left me with nothing and I’m supposed to grieve for them? Not on your life.” She turned and headed back to the trailer.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Back to bed!” Blair snapped. “I’ve got work in the morning. Remember?”

  “I ought to fire you!” Al shouted. “That’ll knock some sense into you.”

  “Whatever.”

  Blair crawled back to bed and pulled the comforter over her head. She didn’t feel bad about Randall and Heather.

  She kind of felt they got what they deserved.

  ****

  Summer brought with it stifling heat and troupes of tourists passing through old Route 66. Blair flipped so many burgers her hands bled. During a lull in orders for fried chicken and mash, Al tossed her a letter.

  “That came for you yesterday.”

  “Why’d you wait until today?”

  “I forgot.”

  Blair rolled her eyes at him and examined the envelope. It was postmarked in London. “Shit,” she muttered. She didn’t want to open it.

  “What’s wrong?” Al said, noticing her frown. “What’s it say?”

  “I don’t know.” Blair handed him the envelope. “You open it.”

  He shrugged and tore it open. His beady eyes quickly scanned the missive. “You’re not going to believe this,” he grinned. “You’re rich!”

  “Not that again,” Blair groaned. “I went through that before and looked what happened.”

  “It says here that you’re the sole beneficiary to your grandmother’s will. You own a house, land, and some cottage in Dublin.”

  “Cottage?” Blair repeated, snatching the letter. Her eyes skimmed over the legal stuff until she came to the nitty-gritty. “No one mentioned a cottage.”

  “Maybe it’s from that solicitor.”

  “No, someone else sent this.” She glanced at envelope. “I think Mr. Haines was in league with Randall. But it backfired on him.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Don’t I?”

  Al took the letter to a booth and read it. “What are you going to do now that you’re a heiress?”

  “I don’t know,” she laughed. “The cottage sounds great.”

  “Well, you ought to go and check it out. Can’t live in my trailer forever you know.”

  “Are you kicking me out?”

  Al grinned. “I’m raising your rent. You can’t afford to stay in my trailer.”

  “I’m giving my notice.”

  A week later, Blair set foot on Irish soil. Everything was a lovely shade of green and the cottage a small piece of heaven. With the money Eugenia left for her, Blair was able to quit her job at the diner and live permanently in Ireland. She updated the kitchen and paid for a new roof. It would last for years.

  She didn’t care for Pennhalow and told the solicitor to sell it for what the market would bear, which wasn’t much. It did pay for the roof and new stove. It took about three months before she was settled completely and she spent a good amount of money on a bed and decorating the cottage

  Blair sat in her kitchen sipping tea and smiled as rain drummed lightly on the roof. She passed the day washing dishes and doing light housekeeping before taking a long soak in a cast-iron tub. She slipped on a flannel nightgown to ward off the chill and climbed into bed.

  Seth was waiting and hugged her tightly to him. “I’ve missed you, woman,” he breathed. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

  She buried her face against his neck. “Where were you?”

  “I couldn’t come. Randall and that bitch had the house cleansed.”

  “Cleansed?”

  “They had a priest say a blessing.”

  “Oh.”

  He kissed her wildly and lifted her into his arms. “We can be together now.”

  “But how did you get here?” Another thought occurred to her. “Seth, did you…”

  “Of course not. But don’t tell me you’re sorry.”

  “I am. A little.”

  “What happened after the priest?”

  “I didn’t know where to go until I heard the solicitor talking about the cottage. I figured you show up eventually.”

  Blair giggled and kissed his cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

  Seth carried her to bed and undressed her tenderly. “We’re going to be very happy, you and I.”

  “Do you think so? Won’t you miss Pennhalow?”

  Seth slid in beside her and cradled her to him. “Never.” He bent and kissed her lovingly. “Think you can live with an incubus?”

  Blair reached up and caressed his cheek. “I’d love to.”

  “Good, because I’m not leaving. Ever.”

  “That’s good because I won’t let you go. Ever.”

  He made love to her tenderly and kissed her tears away. “Didn’t you recognize me at the diner?” he asked.

  Blair sat up. “That was you? The creepy undertaker?”


  “Creepy?” Seth repeated in dismay. “I wasn’t creepy. It was the only body I could find. I had to see you.”

  “I was too miserable to notice.”

  Seth brushed her hair away from her face. “And now?”

  She slid her arms about his neck and pulled him down to her. “And now I’m happy,” she said, laughing and crying at the same time. “I’m happy!”

  “I’m glad.” Seth buried his face in her hair and held her tightly against him. “I’ll never let you go, Blair. Never.”

  “You better not.”

  “Or what?”

  Blair giggled. “I don’t know. I’ll figure it out.”

  “Silly girl,” he whispered and kissed her again.

  They slept entwined and when Blair opened her eyes, he was still there.

  ****

  END

  The Scoundrel

  Chapter 1

  Diana looked up at the burgundy canopy over her four poster bed while Sir Reginald continued to plough away. She looked down on his bald head illuminated by the flickering candles that also sent dancing shadows like demented phantoms across the flock wallpaper. His wig on its stand crouched like a white rabbit.

  Four years of marriage to this man had not endeared him to her. How she longed for a man who at least knew how to make love and one taller than her five feet four inches would be good too. At least he was wealthy, connected and not tight with his money. The marriage of convenience meant her parents were no longer financially embarrassed.

  She imagined he was a dashing Captain from Wellington’s army who had cornered her in a hay field and took her virtue while the sun beat down. It was her only way of dealing with this Thursday night conjugal obligation. Before she went to bed on Thursdays, Diana never forgot to take the potion the gypsy Carlotta gave her to make sure she bore her husband no children. The thought of giving birth to something that would have his traits sickened her. At least it was only Thursdays. And he only did it to her because he needed a son. He had other outlets for his vile peccadillos rather than his unresponsive genteel wife.

  He grunted and rolled off. She could breathe properly now that his fat belly wasn’t pinning her to the mattress. The mantelpiece clock; clear enough in the dim light, confirmed the usual. Two and a half minutes.

 

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