The Temporary Duchess: A Jet City Billionaire Serial Romance

  Because my father was dead, Mr. Thorne gave me away. Which somehow seemed both appropriate and wildly funny. Like the devil handing me out of a car into the underworld. Whatever happened, I wasn't coming out of this marriage unscathed and innocent.

  My heart squeezed and ached. My breath caught as I looked into Riggins' dark, snapping eyes, and placed my cold hands into his warm ones. My mouth was dry. My voice shook as I repeated my vows. His was calm, deep, in control. It didn't waver, not once.

  "Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?" the justice said in a sonorous voice.

  "I do."

  "Rings?"

  And then Riggins was sliding Helen's matching antique wedding band onto my finger next to her…my…engagement ring. Which I'd barely had a chance to get used to wearing, and now it was being joined by its mate.

  Riggins looked deep into my eyes and repeated a standard set of vows we'd found on the Internet. "With this ring, I marry you:

  With my loving heart.

  With my willing body.

  And with my eternal soul."

  You'd think he would have choked on the words, instead of sounding so sincere he nearly broke my heart. Eternal soul? Really? I'd begged him to simply leave it at "With this ring, I marry you." He'd argued that wouldn't look right. Not romantic or fairytale enough. That it wouldn't sell this passionate whirlwind romance to the world, and certainly not to our small audience. That it would cause suspicion and gossip right away. Even though a decent number of people attending knew the truth.

  We couldn't find a set of ring exchange vows that didn't mention love in one form or another. And he refused the antiquated "With this ring, I thee wed," claiming we weren't living in King James' England. Not yet, anyway.

  Then it was my turn to slip the platinum band on his finger. To look into his eyes and say words that I meant, but that would never be true. "With this ring, I marry you:

  With my loving heart.

  With my willing body.

  And with my eternal soul."

  "I now pronounce you man and wife," the justice said. "You may kiss the bride."

  I gave my new husband a shaky smile. I was marrying, no, married to, the hottest guy I'd ever known. Charming. Smart. Funny. Rich. He had my heart. But he didn't want it. At least not long term.

  I closed my eyes, wondering what kind of kiss he meant to give me. A little peck? Or something to remember this moment by?

  He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close, crushing me against the stiffness of his shirt, so close I inhaled the heady, expensive scent of his cologne. I wrapped my arms around his neck. As our lips met, I felt the usual, but still surprising, jolt. The total awareness of him. The melding. His lips were hard and insistent against mine. I had my answer. This might have only been a performance, but we were going to give our audience something to talk about.

  His kiss lingered. His lips were warm and moist. I leaned into him and pressed my kiss to his with more passion than was strictly polite. I wished I could stay in his arms forever. But soon the piper would be paid. We pulled back, smiling into each other's eyes.

  "Ladies and gentlemen—the Duke and Duchess of Witham!"

  And just that quickly, I was no longer Haley Marie Hamilton. I was no longer a person with a real last name at all. I wasn't simply Mrs. Feldhem. I was Her Grace, or ma'am, or duchess. On formal legal papers, Most Noble Haley Marie Duchess of Witham.

  "The duke and duchess invite you all to eat, drink, and be merry. Please enjoy the buffet."

  Sid had tears in her eyes as she hugged me, and then Riggins.

  The evening was only beginning. I had no idea what Riggins had planned for our wedding night. He'd been secretive about it. What would my billionaire groom surprise me with? Would we jet off somewhere on a private plane? My heart pounded with both anxiety and anticipation at the thought of the pleasures of the night ahead.

  Somehow I made it through dinner: the endless toasts, the ribbing, the cake cutting of the beautiful concoction Sally and her team had made, and conversation after conversation. Finally, it was getting late. The guests were getting restless. You know how it is when you're trying to hang on until the bride and groom leave and they just keep hanging out like they'll never go, and you want to go home and put your feet up. Were all the guests spending the night? Were we spending the night at the mansion, too? Was this going to be an all-night affair?

  Riggins took my hand. "Not to look too eager, but it is my wedding night." He smiled at me. "And we have important business to attend to." He pulled me to the full-length glass back patio doors.

  As if on cue, a row of trees lit up, decorated with strings and strings of white lights and hanging lanterns, lighting a path across the lawn to the dock. At the end of the dock, Riggins' yacht lit up. In the brilliance of its fully lit splendor, I could see the back railing strung with roses and flowers that matched my bouquet.

  A crew member dressed in white waited to welcome us aboard, putting down the gangplank decorated with a red carpet.

  Sid handed me my bouquet, her eyes sparkling with tears of happiness. "You'll need this." She hugged me suddenly, fiercely. "I'm so happy for you."

  I hugged her back. "I'm happy for us." She knew whom I meant—her and me.

  Riggins was momentarily distracted by one of the guests.

  "I hope you didn't do this just for me," Sid whispered softly so Riggins couldn't hear. "You look too happy for that."

  "Nothing would make me happier than you being cured," I whispered back.

  "But the way you look at him…" She searched my face. "Don't lose him, Hale. Do whatever you have to hang on to him. For your sake."

  I laughed softly. "What kind of wedding talk is this?" I paused. "As soon as you're out of school for summer, you'll have to come to Witham House with me. Sound fun?"

  She grinned. "Riggins said you're to throw your bouquet from the bow of the yacht before you pull out."

  Lazer came up beside us. "Who's pulling out? Not him, I hope." He hitched his thumb toward Riggins.

  Riggins' attention came back on us. He rolled his eyes. "Come, duchess. Your vessel awaits."

  "Shouldn't that be vassal, Your Grace?" Justin slapped him on the back.

  "I'm never going to hear the end of this." Riggins grinned.

  A pianist and harp had been playing all evening. They started on a melodic Bach processional. The crowd gathered around us. A pair of waiters dressed in tails opened the patio doors with great fanfare. All we needed was a trumpet to make the atmosphere complete.

  "My lady." Riggins grinned at me again and led me through the doors and down the path as our guests followed us.

  Along the path on Riggins' arm. Onto the dock. To the ship. Where only Riggins and I mounted the gangplank and boarded the vessel and our guests congregated on the dock, as the crew pulled up the gangplank and prepared for departure.

  On the dock, a group of all the single women formed. As the yacht's engine fired up and the staff removed the tethers, I leaned over the rail and tossed my bouquet directly to Sid. Rose, who'd been well behaved all evening—I'd hoped she would have the good grace to make her excuses not to attend, but she hadn't—made a lunge for it. Sid caught it anyway and beamed at me, completely ignoring Rose.

  I turned to Riggins and lifted my skirt. "Aren't you going to snap the garter?"

  He laughed. "To that crowd? There aren't many single guys there."

  I laughed and raised an eyebrow. "There are at least two who need it badly. What about Lazer? And your lawyer Harry?"

  "Toss it! Toss it! Toss it!" people began chanting.

  I put my foot up on the rail. Riggins grabbed my thigh, sending a spark of desire through me, and removed the garter. The boat had already begun pulling away when he snapped it like a pro directly at Lazer. It hit Lazer dead center in the middle of his chest. If it had been a bullet, he'd have been dead. Lazer caught it automatically, realizing a second too late what he'd done and making a comical fac
e of disgust. Justin was slapping him on the back, ribbing him, you could tell, as the yacht pulled away.

  Riggins and I waved from the railing as the boat pulled away into Lake Washington. When we were a respectable distance away, he took my hand and pulled me across the deck, up the stairs, and inside the boat.

  "I've been wanting to show you the master suite since our first date here." His eyes sparkled. His voice was husky.

  I hoped he wasn't teasing. Because if that was the case, if he wanted me the way I wanted him, maybe…

  My heart pounded so loudly in my ears it was nearly deafening. I wanted him. But I wanted all of him—heart, mind, body, and soul. But I wasn't likely to get more than his body. Maybe that was enough for now. But I ached with desire for his vows to me to be true.

  He showed me into the hallway and scooped me up beneath the knees to carry me over the threshold of the master suite, closing the doors behind him.

  The room was as magnificent as anything in his mansion, and echoed its style. It sat on the top deck of the boat. One side of the suite was all windows, like his mansion. Outside, the moon shone and the stars and city lights twinkled in the distance across the black lake.

  The bed sat on a round platform, raised in importance, and surrounded by sleek white columns like an altar to some pagan god. The bed was turned down and spread with red rose petals. A floor-to-ceiling mirror decorated the wall next to the bed. There was a huge, round window, skylight, whatever, over the bed, so large it was almost the size of the bed. A porthole to the sky.

  A bottle of wine chilled in an ice bucket on a small, round table near the windows, which had a built-in window seat covered in sleek red leather. A plate of chocolates, cheese, and other nibbles were on the table. There were built-in cabinets and closets all in rich, glossy woods with warm, romantic red tones. Candles flickered on the bedside tables in silver candlestick holders.

  The room was as breathtaking and sexy as its owner. No detail had been spared. It felt like I had stepped into a romantic fairytale, a dream world I would wake up from any moment. I couldn't have imagined a more perfect setting.

  Riggins turned to me. "Do you like it?"

  "Like it? How can you even ask? I'm overwhelmed with its beauty." And masculinity. "I feel shabby in comparison."

  He lifted my chin and stared into my eyes. "You don't look the least bit shabby, duchess. Anything but."

  My heart trilled. It was the perfect time to confess his undying love for me, even if it was a lie. Anything to soothe my vanity. But he didn't, and I'd have to live with that.

  He took my hand in his large, warm one and led me to the window seat, where he sat me down gently. "You must be tired of standing in these heels."

  He kneeled before me like a white knight, slid my shoes off, and massaged my feet through my white stockings until I sighed softly and moaned with almost sexual pleasure. If this was the beginning of his seduction, he was very good indeed.

  We'd just come from a full buffet dinner, but I'd eaten very little. Not much more than the delicate bite of cake he'd fed me. I'd left half a dozen untouched plates here and there around the reception. I'd been too nervous. Too busy playing hostess. Too much the main attraction. Trying too hard to be calm and elegant. I still wasn't particularly hungry, but I was thirsty. I needed something to settle my nerves and ease my conscience.

  I'd never really imagined going to my wedding night a virgin. But I had imagined my husband being in love with me. Desperately so, if at all possible. Now I needed some liquid courage to get over the shattering of my girlish dreams and the embarrassment and shyness I suddenly felt. We'd never even seen each other naked. I glanced at the ice bucket with longing.

  Riggins caught my look. "Thirsty? Should I pop the cork?"

  I bit my lip. "You wouldn't happen to have anything stronger, would you? Something smooth and fast-acting?"

  "Nervous?"

  "Is it that obvious?" I looked at him with an open appeal to reassure me.

  He smiled encouragingly. "When you ask for a drink like that? Yeah. It's a dead giveaway." He laughed softly. "Want to know a secret? So am I. I've never deflowered a virgin before. Introducing a woman to the sensual pleasures is a grave responsibility."

  I laughed and shook my head. "You're making fun."

  "I'm being honest. I'm serious." He looked anything but.

  Even though I didn't believe him, my breath caught. "You don't have to worry about that. Or corrupting me. Just because I'm technically a virgin doesn't mean I don't know anything."

  He grinned. "That takes the pressure off. Somewhat." He got up, opened a cupboard, and pulled out a bottle of expensive, aged Scotch. "I was saving this for a special occasion. I guess getting married counts." He poured two glasses and came back to hand one to me.

  I caught the glint of his wedding band, looking so new and shiny on his finger. I had to resist the wonder and swelling pride. This man was mine, my husband. At least for the duration.

  I tossed my drink back quickly with a smooth flick of my wrist, feeling the smooth burn. I set my glass down beside me and leaned back, studying him. If he was horrified I'd just chugged that Scotch and not savored it, he kept it to himself as he coolly enjoyed his glass.

  "So where are we going?" I tried to sound casual. "Are we cruising to anyplace specific? Or just cruising?"

  "I've instructed the captain to take us to the ocean for sunrise. We'll cruise the lake, go through the cut, into the sound, and through the Strait of Juan de Fuca to the Pacific."

  "Sounds romantic." I smiled at him.

  "It should be. If the sunrise cooperates."

  "And after that?"

  "Back to Seattle to catch a private flight to England. I promised you a honeymoon in our castle."

  I nodded. "Yes, the castle." I took a deep breath. "I've looked it up online. There are many pictures of the interior. But the outside is kind of intimidating."

  He laughed. "We'll face it together. I've looked it up, too. The Dead Duke didn't post many current pictures. I hope Thorne isn't lying about the fabulous restoration the Dead Duke did during his lifetime. He supposedly put a two-hundred-year roof on the place."

  He shook his head. "Can you imagine? Here, I think a fifty-year-roof is pretty much top of the line. At least we shouldn't have to replace it in our lifetime. Thorne said that was the point. The Dead Duke didn't trust his heir, specifically me, to keep the place up. That's my take. Thorne says the Dead Duke was just being courteous by taking care of all those boring, yet expensive, home maintenance projects during his lifetime."

  We fell silent.

  I screwed up my courage. "Can I ask you something?"

  "Anything." He swirled the Scotch in his glass.

  "Why did you marry me?"

  He continued to study me, amused. "You know the answer to that. The Dead Duke forced my hand."

  "No, I mean, why me and not Rose? If you're not in love with either of us, she seems so much more perfect for the role. I never thought—"

  He pressed a finger to my lips. "You asked me not to tell you, remember? Are you asking me to break my promise now?"

  "I asked you not to tell me the results of the DNA test. That's not the same thing." I hoped. But I was fishing, wasn't I? That was ill-mannered of me. He could have easily said he married me because Rose turned out not to be related to the late duchess. Would that have soothed my vanity or not?

  He caught my cheek and looked me deeply in the eyes so penetratingly it was as if he could see straight into my soul. "Maybe I just wanted you more than I wanted her. Maybe I burned for you." His tone was light and teasing as he ran his fingers gently over my chest, sliding them lightly over the cleft between my breasts.

  "Burning is better than nothing," I said.

  "If you're going to be forced into marriage, it helps." He was still teasing, but his tone was laced with desire and his eyes had gone dark.

  I laughed nervously, afraid to put too much stock in what he was saying, and r
an the backs of my fingers over the five o'clock stubble on his chin. The Scotch had settled pleasantly over me, making me bold. "Mr. Thorne reiterated to me before the ceremony that there was to be no funny business. No faking this marriage. We're to consummate it quickly. On our wedding night. It has to be absolutely legal."

  "Quickly? Where's the fun in that?" Riggins looked surprised and amused. "He used the words 'funny business'?"

  I shrugged. "I may have taken a little liberty with his exact phrasing."

  "He gave me the same instructions." Riggins pulled me to my feet.

  "At least he's consistent." I braced my hands against his chest and untied his tie as he slipped out of his jacket and tossed it away in a move I found completely sexy.

  He bent and kissed the tops of my breasts where they peeked out of my gown. I stared at the top of his dark head, wanting to press his head down and beg him to lick and kiss as he pleased.

  I was corseted in and my breasts were shoved up, which made me more breathless than usual. His touch set me on fire. An ache of need began building between my legs. Soon I'd be slick and ready for him, virgin or no.

  The hairdresser had pinned my hair up in an elaborate knot. Riggins pulled the pins out one by one until my hair fell loose around my shoulders.

  "Beautiful," he whispered as he ran his fingers through it and kissed my shoulders almost reverently. He was being very gentle, treating me like fine porcelain when I was really nothing more than common earthenware. I assumed my virginity really did have him spooked.

  If he meant to kill me with tenderness and romantic gestures and by drawing out the inevitable, he was doing a damn good job of it. My nipples budded into tight raspberries, tighter than I ever remembered, physically aching for his touch.

  I forced myself not to breathe too quickly or shallowly, not easy given how excited I was, and turned and lifted my hair off my neck. "Let's get on with the legalities, shall we? I need help getting out of this dress. It took Sid ten minutes to button me in. Will you do the honors and unbutton me?"