The Missing Heir by Ranstrom Gail

Author:Ranstrom, Gail
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: antique

She glanced down at herself, trying to see what Adam saw. Her shapeless white chemise, of a semitransparent lawn, came to just above her knees. Fine white silk stockings sheathed her legs, fastening to white ribbon garters beneath the chemise. Her slippers, of an icy violet satin to match her dress, looked out of place in the sea of white.

He stood slowly and the harsh rasp of his breathing reached her. He sounded as if he could not catch his breath, and she realized that she had done that to him. A sense of her own power made her giddy and reckless. He believed she was worldly and experienced. He would not know the truth about her. Was it possible? Could she fool him?

She tilted her head ever so slightly to one side, the gesture a question. If she were careful, would he ever have to know?

He came forward and circled her twice, an agonizingly slow process. Finally he stopped behind her, his breath hot on her neck. She expected him to reach over her again and to touch her breasts, but he didn’t. Instead he pulled the violet snood off her chignon and removed the hairpins that secured the knot. Her hair tumbled down her back, as cool as silk against her fevered flesh. She shivered as he separated the strands between his fingers.

Only then did his hands come around her waist, pulling her back against his chest and then sweeping upward to cup her breasts. She gasped as his thumbs scraped across her hardened nipples and her head tilted back against him as pleasure coursed through her. She was suddenly two people, one screaming to run while she still could and the other crying out for more. Which? Which should she listen to?

“Ellie,” he groaned in her ear. “Here you are, at last.”

Ellie? Was that who she was? Unexpected tears filled her eyes as her past—always fuzzy, mostly painful—came into focus. Grace was her brother’s creation, and Basil’s and Barrington’s, and every other man who’d tried to control her. Ellie was the free spirit her father had loved and cherished—and the woman that only Adam had seen still lurking beneath the surface. Ellie, wild and free and reckless. Ellie, the woman she had buried. She wept for all those wasted years, all those years of becoming someone she thought she needed to be to survive—of denying herself and of living a lie. Was it too late to reclaim a portion of it? Dear God, had she wasted her entire life?

The realization left her weak and trembling. She melted back against Adam’s chest, slow tears coursing down her cheeks, and lifted her hands to cover his, still cherishing her breasts. They were damp with her teardrops.

“Are you all right?” he whispered.

“Yes,” she moaned. “Yes.”

“Are you frightened?”

She turned in his arms. “I am freed. I am redeemed.” She looked up at him and rose on her toes to kiss him.

He looked dazed for one brief moment, then met her kiss with an open hunger and honesty that awed her.

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