Page 124 of Charlotte's Reckoning
“What on earth is that?”
“Patience is a virtue, so I’ve heard,” Seth murmured, his focus on carefully unrolling it.
Having lost her virtue a long time ago, she couldn’t wait. “Well?”
“It’s a legal document of some kind,” he said, then, squinting to see in the low light, read from the yellowed paper. “Attested to me, Paul Abernathy, attorney at law in the state of Virginia, on this the eighth day of March, 1863, is the last will and testament of Phillip James Eldridge.”
Charlotte gasped, both hands flying to cover her mouth.
“Someone who knew about Jael’s false claims must have hidden it in the hem,” Seth surmised.
“Maw McPhee,” she exclaimed. “She was with our family for decades, and she helped with the packing. She also insisted I take the cloak with me.”
“Why the secrecy? You could have dealt with Jael if she’d given it to you then.”
“I’m not so sure. I tried going to Mr. Abernathy for help, but he had left the state. And Jael had her spies keeping watch, so I can understand Maw’s reluctance. If she had spoken up, she would have faced the same fate as me—being turned out and left destitute. I’m certain she never expected it would take me years to discover it.”
“You can’t let her win,” he declared, his voice tight with anger. “You must go back and fight for your legacy. With the will and Mr. Abernathy, you have ample ammunition.”
Seth twisted and set her waxed paper-encased future carefully aside. When he did, he also shifted deep inside her.
Charlotte let out a sigh as her desire for him reignited. “Are we through talking about wills and old clothes and revenge?”
He glanced up at her, and a slow grin replaced his scowl, so handsome her heart beat erratically—and for other, more intimate reasons as well.
“Am I delaying your pleasurable pursuits, love?”
“Yes, and just as I was hitting my stride.”
His grin broadened. “Never say Prince Charming neglected a lady in need.” His hand curled around the back of her neck and pulled her down for a soul-stirring kiss. Then he released her, and, with a devilish smile, urged, “Ride on, Cinderella.”
Charlotte moved at her own pace, her body undulating atop his. His unwavering gaze following her every motion only fueled her excitement.
Seth didn’t remain passive for long. He sat up, his splayed hands gliding up her back. Her breath caught as his mouth trailed down her neck, gently nipping and sucking her sensitive skin.
“Unfasten your gown; I want to taste more of you,” he ordered, his warm breath dancing along her damp skin.
The dress laced up the back. She couldn’t wait the minutes it would take to remove it, much less stop what they were doing. Impatiently, she tugged down the neckline and let her breasts spill free.
His hand slid down to cradle her bottom, easily covering both cheeks and directing her movements. The other hand curled beneath her breast, and his lips sealed around the hardened peak, drawing on it firmly. Her body arched, pressing against him, her moan of delight an invitation for him to take more.
He did so, eagerly moving to her other breast and lavishing on that nipple the same exquisite treatment. Her fingers sank into his hair, holding him to her. So caught up in the sensations—his mouth, and the fullness and friction of him inside her—she didn’t notice his fingers until they found the bud at the front of her sex.
A simple flick and rub ignited her like a flash fire, and she cried out her release. Seth didn’t join her just yet. Deftly, he flipped her onto her back on the settee, and, with her gown and feet up by her ears, drove into her until he, too, released an impassioned cry—his reverberated through the room, more guttural and robust than her own.
Afterward, he collapsed on top of her, and they clung to one another, winded but sated.
He recovered first and pushed himself up on his muscular arms, letting her breathe more easily, and smiled at her tenderly. “My darlin’ bride-to-be, I’ve always put great stock in my instincts. They’re telling me only good things lie ahead for us.”
“Please don’t say that. Every time I dare to dream, it ends badly.”
Propped on one hand, he cradled her face with the other. “Sweetheart, you’re going to have to believe that all changed the day you met me.”
“Which time? When you saved me from burning up with a sadistic madman or when you walked into the Red Eye to investigate an alley shooting or—”
He hushed her by covering her lips with his thumb. Eyes twinkling with amusement, he asked, “I know you’re stubborn, but are you also always so literal?”
“No, but I’m a pessimist, which differs from your unwavering optimism.” She closed her eyes and muttered, “We’re complete opposites. How will we ever make this work?”
