Claimed: The Pregnant Heiress (14 page)

Emma stared at Chase in utter disbelief. “Are you telling
me The Barron took you away from Penny and then ignored you? Why would he do that? It doesn't make any sense.”

He smiled at the way she'd picked up his habit of referring to his father as “The Barron” while dodging the third dot with impressive dexterity. “You'd have to ask him.”

Emma lifted an eyebrow. “Will he be any more forthcoming than you?”

“Doubtful.”

“Got it.” There was a significant pause while she strolled over to dot number four and gave it a good, swift kick. “Was your father married at the time you were conceived?” she asked. “Is that why your stepmother wanted nothing to do with you?”

“I believe he was engaged to Karis at the time.” He hoped like hell they arrived at the site soon. Damn soon. Before they reached the next dot.

Emma winced. “Ouch. How many Barron stepbrothers and sisters do you have?”

Too late for a timely rescue. She's reached dot number five, the most telling one of all. “Karis has never had any children. I could never think of a polite way to ask why, since I guarantee my father wanted sons. Legitimate sons, that is.”

“Ah.”

He turned a disgruntled look on her. “What does ‘ah' mean?”

“It means I understand.”

“Excellent. No more dots.”

Her brows pulled together in confusion. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, we can finally put this conversation to rest.”

“Forever more?” she probed delicately.

“I couldn't be that lucky.”

“I suspect you're right, but I do sympathize. After all, I'm just as touchy about the subject of my mother's death. Not to mention the estrangement from my brother.”

“Then you'll leave it alone?”

“Mmm.”

He swore beneath his breath. “Let me put it this way. You will leave it alone.”

“Oh, look.” She pointed out the window at an impressive high-rise. “I think that must be the building.”

“What gave it away?”

She grinned. “Maybe the sign that says Future Home of Barron's West.”

He couldn't resist her smile. He pulled her close and gave her a slow, thorough kiss. She responded with unstinting generosity, her curves fitting against him as though tailor-made. Slowly his hand crept downward and his fingers splayed across her abdomen.

Their child rested there. He craved these moments when he could touch that precious bundle tucked so snugly within her womb. To try to sense the baby's presence through the protective layers of flesh and bone. More than anything, he wanted to strip away her clothes and press his lips against the softening mound of her belly. To rest his cheek there and pretend he could hear the rapid whoosh of his baby's heartbeat or feel the flutter of its first movements.

Her name escaped in a whisper. “Emma…”

She pulled back slightly and traced the curve of his jaw with a tender touch. Gathering her hand in his, she pressed a little tighter and cupped her hands over his. “Still there, safe and sound.”

He lowered his voice, as though to keep from disturbing the baby's slumber. “Has he…she…moved, yet?”

“I haven't felt anything. From what I've read that won't happen for another few weeks.”

He rested his forehead against hers. “Will you tell me when it happens?”

“You'll be the first to know, I promise.”

The car pulled to a stop and the driver climbed from his seat. It gave them just enough time to straighten and smooth and collect themselves. An instant later, the door opened beside Emma. She sent Chase an encouraging smile before exiting the
car. The minute he joined her, she took his hand in hers, uniting them as a couple. As they approached, he could feel the critical gaze of his father and stepmother from where they stood in the shadow of the huge building. He wondered if Emma felt it, too. If so, had she taken his hand for protection…or to protect? Maybe he'd ask her when they were next alone.

The introductions were brief, formal and bitterly cold. Though Karis greeted Emma with some degree of warmth, she avoided looking at him. As usual. Chase and his father shook hands with brisk, distant efficiency. Then his stepmother swept Emma in one direction while his father ushered him in the other. He could hear Karis inviting Emma to go shopping and was amused to see the invitation blown off, much to his stepmother's irritation.

“Are you listening to me?” Tiberius Barron demanded.

“Yes. You were asking about a wedding date. Nothing has been set.”

“Why not?”

“It's quite simple. The lady in question hasn't agreed to marry me.”

The Barron's eyes, the same smoky blue shade as his own, ignited with temper. “Now you listen to me, boy. Emma is a Worth. She's a Smith graduate. Her pedigree is impeccable. And she's clearly fertile, which means legitimate children, something I've never been fortunate enough to possess.”

Huh. One of Emma's dots just got connected to the others. He'd have to let her know. “I realize how lucky I am to have her. Maybe my mongrel status doesn't appeal to her,” he admitted humbly. He contemplated the possibility. “Now that I think about it, marrying me would be a step down for her.”

“Don't be ridiculous. You have Barron blood running through your veins, even if it's been diluted.”

Chase stiffened. “Diluted or polluted?” he asked very, very softly.

Ty waved that aside. “Don't be fatuous. You know damn well what I'm talking about.” His crisp, hard words shot out
like bullets. “Emma Worth isn't some cheap piece of goods you can fool around with and then walk away from. You can't skip out on your obligations and responsibilities to her so easily.”

A haze of red settled across Chase's vision, interfering with his ability to think and speak with his usual calm control. “Let me get this straight. I should shoulder my obligations and responsibilities—in other words, marry Emma because she's pregnant. But you never felt obligated to do the same thing for Mom?” It was a question he'd longed to ask ever since he'd first learned the facts of his birth.

Barron smoldered. “Your mother wasn't the kind of woman you marry.”

Chase froze, his hands balling into fists. Before he could use them, Emma approached and forced his fingers apart, interlacing them with hers. He caught a brief glimpse of Karis's rigid back as she exited the site and climbed into the limo waiting to whisk her off to the shopping district.

“What have I missed?” Emma asked lightly.

“Nothing,” both men said in unison.

“Funny.” She fixed The Barron with an icy look. “I could have sworn I heard you tell your son that his mother wasn't the sort of woman worthy of marriage.”

Dull color swept along Ty's cheekbones. “Excuse me. I was attempting to protect your interests against my son's carelessness.”

“My interests?” She lifted an eyebrow in polite inquiry. “Or your own?”

Aw, hell. “Let it go, Emma,” Chase advised.

She glanced down and for an instant he thought the moment would blow over. Then she touched the bracelet encircling her wrist—his mother's bracelet—and her head jerked up. “No. I don't think I will let it go.”

“You have something to say to me, Ms. Worth?” Ty used his most intimidating tone of voice, not that it fazed Emma one iota.

“I have a great deal to say to you, Mr. Barron.” Fire burned
in her gaze, along with an intense anger. A protective anger. One stirred by her feelings for him, Chase realized with a sense of wonder. “You pressured a ten-year-old boy into deserting his mother in order to live with you.”

“Nonsense.”

She swept aside The Barron's interruption as though it held little or no merit. Which, Chase conceded, it didn't. “And once you had your son in your clutches, you dumped him into a prep school where he was subjected to unimaginable ridicule and torment because you chose to allow him to come into this world a bastard.”

“A marriage to Penny Larson would have been a disaster.”

“Then why didn't you formally adopt Chase?” It was a devastating question, one that Chase had never dared ask, mainly because he didn't want to know the answer. Or maybe he knew the answer and would rather not hear it put into actual words. “You couldn't even be troubled to give him the protection of your name, could you?” She stepped closer, invading The Barron's territory. “Why? Why would you do that?”

She'd actually shaken the old man. Ty shook his head, avoiding her gaze. “That's none of your business.”

Her voice lowered, intensified. “Well, let me tell you something, Mr. Barron. I have a very good idea why. Don't for one moment think I haven't figured it out. All you cared about were your own self-interest. When I think of that poor child…”

She broke off and her fingers curled over the tiny mound of her belly in an instinctive gesture, a distinctly maternal gesture of protection that forged a connection in Chase's mind between the boy he'd been and the child she carried. To his distress, tears filled her eyes and her mouth trembled. Before he could step in and put an end to the conversation, she pressed her lips together into a firm line and forced past the tears.

“You never gave a single thought to the feelings of your own son. You never once armored him against the cruelty with which society regarded him. Not with your name. Not with your
love.” She drew in a swift, trembling breath. “You should be ashamed of yourself. I know I am.”

With that, Emma turned into Chase's embrace and burst into tears. He wrapped her up in a protective hold. “I believe that's my signal to rescue the damsel in distress from the ferocious dragon.”

“I think I'm the one who needs rescuing,” Ty growled, his complexion pasty white. “In fact, I know I am.”

“We'll be going now, in case you hadn't picked up on that fact. Nice seeing you as always, Dad. Give our best regards to Karis.”

“Chase, I…” For the first time in his entire life, Chase witnessed his father groping for words. “I…I'm sorry, son. For everything. I never looked at any of this from a child's point of view. Until now, that is. Until Emma.”

A fierce pride swept through Chase. “She has a way with words, doesn't she?”

“You might say that.” Ty closed his eyes. “Listen to me, Chase. You have the chance to do what I never would. I hope you handle your choices better than I have. Maybe when Emma is feeling better—” He stumbled to a halt. “I'd like to make amends. To both of you.”

“I'll see what I can do.”

“He can come to the wedding,” Emma sobbed. “If there is a wedding.”

Ty hesitated, uncertain how to respond. “I'll be there,” he said at last. “Assuming there is a there.”

Chase figured they weren't going to resolve their differences any better than that. Not today, at any rate. Without another word, he carried Emma back to the waiting car. “Where to?” the driver asked.

“Sweetheart?”

She wiped her eyes. “Would you mind if we just went home?”

“No, of course not.”

He didn't know if Emma realized it, yet, but with that single
blazing speech, she'd just fully and completely committed herself to him. If she didn't, she soon would. He'd make sure of that. Because she'd given him the one thing he'd never had and always craved.

A home.

“Take us to the airport,” he instructed.

Dear God, a home. His arms tightened around Emma. Even better, it was a home they'd share together.

E
mma spared Chase a swift look and winced. For the past several hours he'd been lost in his own thoughts, barely speaking a word the entire flight back to San Diego. She could only assume she'd said far too much to his father. Regret filled her. Granted, Chase had been kindness itself, making certain she wanted for nothing once they were aboard Rafe's jet, helping her on the plane in San Francisco and off again in San Diego, holding her car door. But, he'd reverted to type. And it wasn't a type she cared for.

At all.

During the drive from the airport, her BlackBerry made a soft
burring
noise indicating an incoming call. Chase reached into his pocket and tossed her his phone without taking his eyes off the road. “I'm betting it's either Rafe or my father. Would you mind checking?”

She checked her own phone. “Actually, it's my father.”

“Ronald? I wonder why he's calling me instead of you?”
Chase's mouth compressed. “Maybe The Barron called him after our meeting.”

She grinned at his confusion. “Chase, it's my father on my phone.”

“What…?” He spared her a swift, startled glance. “Hell, I swear I've changed that ringtone at least twenty different times. Don't tell me…” His mouth eased into the first smile she'd seen they'd left San Francisco. “Seriously? Again?”

“'Fraid so. We must have some sort of weird telepathy going on.”

“I guarantee that's what my mother would believe.”

She took the call and chatted with her father for a few minutes. He seemed preoccupied, but that was nothing new. To her surprise, Chase left the freeway a couple of exits early and headed for the coast road. She didn't ask where they were going, preferring to be surprised. Just as she ended her conversation, Chase pulled off the road at Busted Bluff and parked the car.

The night closed in around them. In the distance Emma could hear the sounds of the ocean, the relentless surge of waves against beach. The leaves of a nearby eucalyptus stirred in response to a benevolent breeze. Just past the bluff, a huge orange-tinted moon sank toward the sea, its bottom edge already lapping against the watery horizon.

“Emma… There's something I need to tell you,” Chase began.

“Does it have anything to do with Worth Industries now being owned by Cameron Enterprises? Or were you about to tell me the real reason you whisked me off to San Francisco?”

“I whisked you off to San Francisco because my father requested we make a command appearance. But I will admit the timing proved convenient.”

She nodded, grateful for the shadows that concealed her expression. “I understand. Everyone worried that I'd kick up a fuss.”

“There isn't anything you could have done to stop the sale going through,” he informed her. Compassion rippled through
his words. “Even so, I didn't see any point in rubbing your nose in it. Even if my father hadn't called, I would have taken you somewhere romantic for the weekend. I'm just sorry the romance part of the trip didn't work out the way we planned. Maybe another weekend.”

She turned to study Chase. “You're not like him, you know.”

“Sorry?”

She smiled at the icicles clinging to that single word. She also ignored them. “You're not like your father.”

“Don't be ridiculous. I learned ruthless at his knee.”

She dismissed his comment with a quick shake of her head. “I don't see how that's possible since you rarely saw him, let alone his knee.”

“Emma—”

“Do you really think I don't understand?”

“Drop it, sweetheart. There's nothing to understand.”

“You went to live with the man at ten, Chase. You were just a child. It isn't difficult to figure out how and why that happened.”

He stared out the front windshield, his jaw set in stone. “Okay, fine. Get it off your chest. What did you figure out?”

“Obviously, Karis can't have children and for reasons of his own The Barron won't divorce her. Either she has something on him or he actually loves her. Otherwise he would have married someone else long ago and fathered a brood of legitimate sons to carry on the Barron name.”

For a moment, Chase relaxed enough to smile. “There's still that potential. If it happens, he'll disinherit me again.”

Emma lifted an eyebrow. “Again?”

“I think I'm hovering near half a dozen times.”

“Whenever you say no to him?” she guessed. “Pretty much.”

“I assume that once The Barron discovered that Karis couldn't or wouldn't bear him any legitimate children, he decided to claim you.”

Chase shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“Not really, other than it gives a clear indication of his overall character. I was dead serious when I said I know why he never adopted you.”

“Why?” he whispered.

“Because he always anticipated, despite Karis, that one day he'd have legitimate children and could simply shunt you to one side in favor of his ‘real' sons and daughters. And I know one more thing, too. I can tell you precisely why you left your mother and went with him.”

“Don't go there, Emma. Not there.” The icicles were back. This time he'd combined them with a hard, cold warning that blazed with caution lights and trip wires. Trip wires that threatened imminent detonation if she dared trespass any further.

She knocked aside the caution lights and yanked on the first wire. “He threatened your mother, didn't he?”

A single, bitterly crude word escaped Chase. He slammed from the car and paced to the edge of the bluff. The moon gilded him in silver, turning his hair almost as pale as Rafe's. She gave him a moment to gather up his self-control and then joined him.

“How did you know?” he asked, keeping his back to her.

“I met both of your parents.”

He swung around. With the moon behind him, shadows consumed his face. “And that's all it took?”

“That's all it took,” she confirmed. “There's no inducement in the world that would convince a ten-year-old boy to leave a mother as delightful and quirky as Penny for a man as callous and arrogant as Tiberius Barron, especially not once you'd had your first taste of prep school.”

“I managed.”

“Yes, you did. You protected your mother from your father. And then you worked every hour of every day to make yourself into a man as powerful and wealthy as The Barron so you could continue to protect her, as well as provide her with every
material advantage she could ever wish for. You managed all that, and you did it without turning into him. You're not your father's son, Chase, and you never will be.”

“How can you be so sure?” The question slipped into the night, filled with angst. It threatened to break her heart. She went to him, wrapped him up in her warmth. Held him tight until the coldness broke and the tension snapped. He buried his face in her hair. “Oh, God, Emma. And they call me a bastard. He wouldn't marry her. Wouldn't dream of marrying her because she wasn't good enough for him.”

“It was the other way around, Chase.” She slipped her fingers into his dense, crisp hair and forced him to look at her. “Have you ever asked your mother whether she would have married The Barron if he'd asked?”

“No, of course not, because he never would have.”

She released a short, impatient laugh. “Sometimes you amaze me, Chase. I suggest you do ask her, although I can tell you her answer.”

He stiffened. “Which is?”

“She'd never have married him. Not ever.” Slowly, carefully, Emma slid her arms around Chase's neck. “If she'd told you as much, would you still have gone to live with your father?”

He closed his eyes. “Yes.”

“Because he threatened to hurt her financially. To take away her home or her job. Or maybe he threatened to take her to court and accuse her of being a bad mother.” Chase's flinch gave her the answer. “I am so sorry. You couldn't have suspected he would never have followed through.”

“You don't know my father very well if you think that.”

“I know my own father. They're somewhat alike, yours and mine. Men as powerful as our fathers, who spend so much of their life in the limelight, would never have risked the adverse publicity. And taking you from your mother, no matter how he tried to slant it, wouldn't have looked good. Plus, he could never have gotten Karis to play the part of the doting stepmother,
not with video cameras recording her every little glance and intonation.”

“Why are you telling me all this?”

The moonlight fell full on her face. She didn't doubt that it sliced through all pretense and gave expression to her every thought and emotion and vulnerability. “If we're going to marry, we need to resolve the issues from the past. It's the only way to keep history from repeating itself. You should talk to your mother and explain what happened. Let her know that you didn't abandon her because your father bribed you with promises of toys and trips and spectacular allowances.”

“You said… If we're going to marry.” His gaze turned razor-sharp. “Don't mess with me, Emma. Not now. This is too important.”

She took a deep breath. “I'm willing to move in with you, assuming the offer is still available.”

“It's still available. It's definitely still available.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, square jewelry box. Thumbing open the lid, he removed the ring inside. “But if we're going to move in together, I'd like you to wear this when we do.”

The ring was a spectacular pink diamond that looked close to five karats. She laughed through a sudden mist of tears when she realized he'd chosen a princess cut. He took her hand in his and, beneath the setting moon, slipped the ring on to her finger. It glittered with a magical fire.

“Marry me, Emma,” Chase said.

Then he gathered her in his arms and kissed her. There beneath the velvet canopy of the moon and stars, with a timeless surf surging far beneath their feet, Emma faced the truth. She loved this man. More than anything in the world she wanted to be his wife, to bear the child she carried and possibly a few more. To tumble through the years with Chase, creating the sort of enduring relationship that would still be young and fresh and passionate when they were old and gray.

She broke off the kiss with a sigh of utter contentment. “Yes,
Chase. I'll marry you.” She snatched one last kiss, one he would have deepened if she hadn't reluctantly pulled back. “Take me home.”

“You mean to the condo? That's not home.” He inclined his head toward the coast road. “Our home is that way. Or it soon will be. My offer on the house we previewed was accepted. It'll be available by the end of the month.”

“That soon?” she asked, stunned.

He swung her into his arms and carried her toward the car. “Sometimes being a tough, ruthless businessman is a good thing.”

She rested her head against his shoulder. “Color me shocked, amazed and delighted.”

“I think I'd rather color you naked.”

She laughed. “That, too.”

 

“So what do you have on tap for today? Any chance we can stay here and hang out at the condo all day?” Chase asked over breakfast the next morning.

“Ana Rodriguez is in town. We're having lunch.” Emma waggled the fingers of her left hand in Chase's direction. “I have a lot of news to share.”

“Actually, you have more than you know. I forgot to mention something to you last night.”

“I'm not surprised. We were a tad busy.” He grinned, a feral, wolfish baring of teeth that warned that it wouldn't take much to convince him to try for an encore performance. A slight blush touched her cheeks. It would be well worth repeating, too. They'd both been ravenous. She sucked in a swift breath and fought for control. “So what did you forget to tell me?”

“As a condition of the sale, your father requested that you be named to the board of Hannah's Hope.”

It took an instant for the name to register. “Oh, right. Dad told me about the charity Rafe plans to start up. It's in his mother's honor, isn't it?”

“That's right. The charity promotes literacy since it was a cause that Hannah supported during her lifetime.”

Emma speared a slice of pineapple. “Tell me the truth, Chase, is Rafe sincere about the charity, or is this just some clever PR move to take the focus off his plans for Worth Industries?”

“First, it's not Worth anymore, but Cameron Enterprises. And second, Rafe is totally sincere about anything and everything connected to his mother. Right now he's looking to hire someone to head the foundation.”

That certainly showed Chase's brother in a new, more positive light. “And my position on the board?” she probed. “Will it carry actual weight or am I merely a figurehead?”

“That's up to you. You devote a lot of energy to It's Time. Plus your pregnancy is going to affect your workload. But I guarantee that any spare hours you're willing to donate to Hannah's Hope will be appreciated.”

“I'd like that.”

Chase laughed. “You sound surprised.”

“I guess I am. I never thought Rafe and I would agree on anything. But this sounds like an excellent cause.” She speared another section of pineapple and considered it with a frown. “I do have one suggestion, though.”

“Which is?”

The suspicion underscoring the question amused her. “I would recommend that in addition to finding someone to head the foundation that he also find a celebrity to act as spokesperson for it.”

“That's an excellent suggestion. You know… Rafe and I are good friends with Ward Miller. He might make an excellent spokesperson for the charity.”

“Ward Miller, the musician?” she asked, impressed. “How do you know him?”

“We met years ago. I handle some of his investments. I'll suggest Rafe get in touch with him about your idea. And now…” She only had time to swallow the sliver of pineapple before
he tipped her out of her chair and into his arms. “I have an excellent suggestion of my own.”