To Catch an Heiress

Chapter 20

hal-cy-on (adjective). Calm, quiet, peaceful, undisturbed.

I shan't look back upon these as halcyon days.

-From the personal dictionary of

Caroline Trent

Caroline was sitting on the sandy portion of the beach, gazing up at the sky. Just as Blake had pointed out, it was cloudy, so all she could see was the pale, blurry glow of the moon. She wrapped her arms around her bent knees and huddled against the cool breeze, her shoes lying next to her.

'It doesn't matter," she told herself, wiggling her toes in the coarse sand. "It just doesn't matter."

"What doesn't matter?"

Her head jerked up. Blake.

"How did you get here without my hearing you?"

He motioned behind him. "There is another path about fifty yards back."

"Oh. Well, if you have come to check up on me, you'll see that I am perfectly fine, and you can go back to the house."

"Caroline." He cleared his throat. "There are a few things I need to tell you."

She looked away. "You don't owe me any expla­nations."

He sat down beside her, unconsciously adopting the same position. He rested his chin on his knees and said, "There were reasons I swore never to marry."

"I don't want to hear it."

"Nonetheless, I need to say it."

She didn't say anything, so he continued. "When Marabelle died..." His voice caught.

"You don't have to do this," she said quickly. "Please."

He ignored her. "When she died, I thought-I felt-God, it's so hard to put into words." He ex­haled, a world of heartbreak in that rush of air. "I was dead inside. That's the only way to describe it."

Caroline swallowed, barely able to resist the im­pulse to offer him the comfort of her hand on his arm.

"I can't be what you need."

"I know," she said bitterly. "I can't compete with a dead woman, after all."

He flinched at her words. "I swore I'd never marry. I-"

"I never asked that of you. I may have- Never mind."

"You may have what?"

Caroline just shook her head, unwilling to tell him that she may have wished for it. "Please con­tinue," she said in a distracted voice.

He nodded, although it was clear that he was still curious about what she'd almost said. "I always told myself that I could not marry out of respect for Marabelle, that I didn't want to be disloyal to her memory. And I think I really believed it. But tonight I realized that was no longer true."

She turned to face him, a thousand questions in her eyes.

"Marabelle's dead," he said in a hollow voice. "And I know that. I can't bring her back. I never thought I could. It's just..."

"It's just what, Blake?" she prompted in a low, urgent voice. "Please tell me. Make me under­stand."

"I felt I couldn't fail her in death as I had in life."

"Oh, Blake. You've never failed anyone." She touched his arm. "Someday you'll have to realize that."

"I know." He closed his eyes for a moment. "I've always known that, deep down. She was so head­strong. I couldn't have stopped her."

"Then why are you so determined to be un­happy?"

"It isn't about Marabelle any longer. It's me."

"I don't understand."

"Somewhere along the way I lost something in­side. I don't know whether it was the grief or the bitterness, but I just stopped caring."

"That's not true. I know you better than you think."

"Caroline, I feel nothing!" he burst out. "Nothing deep and meaningful, at least. Don't you see that I'm dead inside?"

She shook her head. "Don't say that. It's not-true."

He grasped her shoulder with startling urgency. "It is true. And you deserve more than I can give you."

She stared at his hand. "You don't know what you're saying," she whispered.

"The hell I don't." He wrenched himself away from her and stood, his posture bleak as he stared at the surf. After a moment of silence he said, "James has said he will marry you."

"I see."

"Is that all you have to say?"

She let out an impatient exhale. "What do you want me to say, Blake? Tell me, and I'll say it. But I don't know what you want. I don't even know what I want anymore." She buried her face in her knees. That was a lie. She knew exactly what she wanted, and he was standing next to her, telling her to marry another man.

She wasn't surprised, but she hadn't expected it to hurt so much.

"He'll take care of you," Blake said in a low voice.

"I'm sure he will."

"Will you accept?"

She looked up sharply. "Do you care?"

"How can you ask that?"

"I thought you didn't feel. I thought you didn't care about anything."

"Caroline, I do care about your future. I just can't be what you need in a husband."

"That's an excuse." She stood, her posture mili­tant. "You're nothing but a coward, Blake Ravenscroft."

She started to walk away, but her feet sank in the sand, and he was able to catch up with her quickly. "Don't touch me!" she yelled when his hand closed around her arm. "Leave me alone."

He didn't let go. "I want you to accept Riverdale's proposal."

"You have no right to tell me what to do."

"I know that. But I'm asking nonetheless."

Caroline let her head fall back. Her breath came in short, shallow pants, and she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment against the emotions colliding in her mind. "Go away," she finally managed to say.

"Not until I have your word that you will marry Riverdale."

"No!" she cried out. "No! I won't marry him. I don't love him and he doesn't love me, and that's not what I want."

His grip tightened around her arm. "Caroline, you must listen to me. Riverdale will-"

"No!" With strength that was born of fury and heartbreak, she yanked her arm away and started to run down the beach. She ran until her lungs burned, until her eyes were so filled with tears that she couldn't see. She ran until the pain in her body finally eclipsed that in her heart.

She stumbled along the sand, trying to ignore the sound of Blake's footsteps drawing closer. Then his body slammed into hers with stunning force, knock­ing them both to the ground. Caroline landed on

her back, with Blake's body covering hers inti­mately.

"Caroline," he said, his breath coming in hard pants.

She stared up at him, her eyes wildly searching his face for some sign that he loved her. And then she reached out, grabbed the back of his head, and pulled his mouth down to hers, kissing him with all the love and desperation in her heart.

Blake tried to resist. He couldn't have her; he knew that. She was going to marry his best friend. But her lips were sweet and demanding, and the press of her body against his turned his blood to flame.

He murmured her name over and over, like a mantra. He'd tried to be noble, he'd tried to push her away, but he wasn't strong enough to say no when her tongue was on his lips and her bare feet were rubbing along his calves.

His hands were nimble and quick, and he had her dress off in under ten seconds. He laid it down be­neath her to protect her from the sand, but that was his last rational thought before his entire being was overtaken by the need to possess her.

"I will have you," he vowed, rubbing his finger­tips past her calves to her thighs.

"I will have you," he pledged, yanking off her chemise and placing his hand over her heart.

"I will have you," he groaned, just before his mouth dosed over her nipple.

All she said was, "Yes."

And Blake's heart soared.

Caroline arched her back as high-pitched sounds of desire escaped her mouth. It seemed that for

every longing he fulfilled, he created two more, whipping her body into a frenzy of need.

She wasn't certain what to do, but she knew she wanted to feel his skin against hers, so she moved her hands to the buttons of his shirt. Her move­ments were rough and clumsy, however, and she soon found herself pushed aside by Blake, who tore the garment off with a savage cry.

A second later, he was back on top of her, the heat of his bare chest against hers. His mouth slanted over hers, and he devoured her from the inside out.

She moaned into him, clutching at his back, then skimming her hands down to the waistband of his breeches. She paused, garnered her courage, then hooked one finger underneath., touching the smooth skin of his buttocks.

Blake's lips slid across her cheek to her ear, mur­muring, "I want to feel you," against her skin. His breath was hot and moist, and so very erotic. She could feel each of his words even more than she could hear them.

"I want to feel you, too," she whispered.

"Oh, you shall. You shall." He rolled off her just long enough to divest himself of the rest of his clothing, and then he was on top of her again, the hot, naked length of him burning into her skin.

The surf was rising, and the cold water tickled her bare toes. Caroline shivered, but the movement only rubbed her more intimately against Blake, and she heard him groan with desire.

"I'm going to touch you," he whispered, his voice hot against her cheek.

She knew what he meant, but it was still a shock when he brushed his fingers against her most inti­mate place. She stiffened, then relaxed as his lips pressed up against her ear with a soft, "Shhh."

One finger slipped inside her, and she gasped with pleasure. "I want to touch you, too," she said.

He let out a ragged breath. "It would probably kill me if you did."

Her eyes flew to his face.

"I want you so much," he tried to explain. "I'm damned near bursting with it, and I can't-"

"Shhh." It was her turn now to comfort him, and she placed a gentle finger on his lips. "Just show me. Show me everything. I want to please you."

A hoarse sound came from deep in Blake's throat as he nudged her legs apart. He touched her with the very tip of his manhood and nearly flinched at the pleasure of the contact. She was so hot and will­ing, and he knew she wanted him, damaged soul and all.

"Oh, Caroline, I'll make this good for you," he vowed. "I'll bring you such joy. I promise."

"You already have," she said softly, then gasped as he began to penetrate her.

He took her slowly, giving her body time to ad­just to his size and strength. It was so difficult to hold back when every fiber of his being ached to pound into her, branding her as his own. Something very primitive had been awakened inside him, and he didn't just want to make love to her; he wanted to devour her, possess her, bring her such pleasure that she couldn't even dream of giving herself to another.

But he held back, straining to maintain a gentle touch. She wasn't ready for the ferocity of his de­sire. She wouldn't understand it. And he cared too much to frighten her.

He cared.

It was a stunning revelation, and his entire body froze.

"Blake?"

He'd known he liked her, he'd known he desired her. But it had taken this moment of intimacy to realize that his emotions were far more intense. He, who had thought that he'd lost the power to feel anything deeply, had been touched by this woman, and-

"Blake?"

He looked down.

"Is something wrong?"

"No," he said, a touch of wonder in his voice. "No. As a matter of fact, I think that everything might actually be just right."

A hint of a smile graced her lips. "What do you mean?"

"I'll tell you later," he said, worried that this magical feeling might disappear if he examined it too closely. "But for now..."

He pushed forward. Caroline gasped.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked.

"No. It's just that-I feel so, well, full somehow."

Blake let out a shout of laughter. "I'm not even halfway there," he said with an amused smile.

Her mourn fell open. "You're not?"

"Not yet," he said solemnly. "Although this"- he pressed forward, the motion bringing exquisite

friction to them both-"does bring me a little closer."

She gulped. "Only closer? Not all the way there?"

He smiled slowly and shook his head. "Of course if I did this"-he gave his hips a tiny thrust-"I'd be almost there."

"But did you- Am I still-"

"-a virgin?" he completed for her. "Technically, I suppose, yes, but as far as I'm concerned, you're mine."

Caroline swallowed and blinked back tears, barely able to contain her emotions. It was amazing what a simple sentence could do to her. You're mine. Oh, how she wanted that to be true. Forever.

"Make me yours," she whispered. "In every way."

She could see in his face how much his restraint was costing him. The night air was chilly, but Blake's brow was beaded with sweat, and the mus­cular cords of his throat stood out prominently.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said, his voice straining against itself.

"You won't."

And then, as if the last bit of his reserve had been used up, he let out a hoarse cry and plunged forward, sheathing himself within her completely. "Sweet Lord," he gasped. "Caroline."

She couldn't fight off a crazy urge to laugh. "Oh, Blake," she gasped. "I see the difference now."

"Do you?"

"There's more?"

He nodded. "Just wait and see."

And then he began to move.

Later Caroline couldn't decide which part she'd liked best. Was it the feeling of completeness she felt when they were joined as one? Was it the prim­itive rhythm of his body as he claimed her as his own? Certainly she couldn't discount the explosive climax she'd felt, immediately followed by Blake's shout of passion as he left his seed in her.

But now, as she lay in his arms, the ocean breeze caressing their bodies, she thought that this might be the best of all. He was so warm and close, and she could hear his heartbeat as it slowed to its nor­mal, sedate pace. She could smell the salt on his skin and the passion in the air. And there was something so right about it all, as if she'd waited her whole life just for this moment.

But mixed in with her happiness was an uneasy fear. What happened now? Did this mean he wanted to marry her? And if he did, was that only because he now felt it was the right thing to do? And if that were the case, did she care?

Well, of course she cared. She wanted him to love her with the intensity of emotion she felt for him. But maybe he would learn to love her if they were married. She might be miserable if she married a man who didn't love her, but she knew she'd be miserable without him. Maybe she should just close her eyes, jump in, and hope for the best.

Or maybe, she thought with a frown, she ought to remember that he hadn't said more than two words to her since they'd made love, and certainly nothing about marriage.

"Why the long face?" Blake asked, idly stroking her hair with his fingers.

She shook her head. "Nothing. Just woolgather­ing."

"About me, I imagine," he said quietly. "And my intentions."

She drew back in horror. "I would never dream of manipulating you into-"

"Shush," he said with soft authority. "I know."

"You do?"

"We will be married as soon as I can obtain a special license."

Her heart leaped. "Are you sure?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"A stupid one," she mumbled. Hadn't she just decided mat she didn't care if he wanted to marry her just because it was the right thing to do?

No, that wasn't right. She did care. She was just going to marry him anyway.

"Caroline?" Amusement was evident in his voice.

"Yes?"

"Are you going to answer my question?"

She blinked. "Did you ask me one?"

"I asked you if you would..." He paused. "No, actually I didn't ask."

Before Caroline realized what he was about, he rolled over and got up on one knee. "Caroline Trent, soon to be Ravenscroft," he said, "will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

If her eyes hadn't filled with so many tears, she might have actually chuckled at the sight of him proposing to her stark naked. "Yes," she said, nod­ding furiously. "Yes, yes, yes."

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. "Good."

Caroline closed her eyes for a few seconds. She wanted to close off all her senses so that she might savor the moment in her mind. No sight, no touch, no smell-nothing to distract her from the exquisite joy in her heart.

"Caroline?"

"Shhh." She waved her hand at him and then, a few seconds later, opened her eyes and said, "There. What were you going to say?"

His expression was curious. "What was that all about?"

"Nothing, I- Oh look!" She pointed up at the sky.

"What?" he asked, his eyes following her finger.

"The sky must have cleared up. The stars are out."

"So they are," he murmured, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. "But then again, you were the one who said they were there all along."

Caroline squeezed his hand in hers. "Yes," she agreed. "They were."

A half hour later they were dressed-albeit rather disheveled-and trying to slip into the house as quietly as possible.

James, however, was waiting in the front hall.

"I told you we should have used the back stairs," Caroline muttered.

"I assume you're back for the night?" James said mildly. "Perriwick wanted to lock the door, but I wasn't sure you'd brought a key."

"We've decided to be married," Blake blurted out.

James merely lifted one eyebrow and murmured, "I thought you might."