Little Secrets: Claiming His Pregnant Bride
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But at the end of the day, she was the one who had to live with him. With herself. And she knew she wouldn’t be able to make the marriage last the rest of her life. How far would she and Roger get before she couldn’t take it anymore? A year? Three? The divorce—because there would be one. Seth was right—would be ugly. Especially because of the baby.
She lost track of time, quietly crying into Seth’s shoulder and his handkerchief as the sun got lower in the sky. Purple joined the reds and oranges. It was truly a beautiful late-summer day. Perfect for a wedding.
And where was she? Marrying her Prince Charming? Celebrating? No.
She was sitting on a bench with a man who had been Roger’s roommate. A man who understood that Roger was better on paper than he was in real life.
A man who didn’t think she was insane for running away from her own wedding.
“I’m pregnant,” she announced because she hadn’t been able to tell anyone yet and that single fact—those two little words—had completely altered the trajectory of her life.
Seth stiffened and then said, “Oh?” in a far too casual voice.
“Roger is the father,” she went on in a rush of words. “I’m not the kind of person who would cheat on my fiancé.” Ironically, though, she was the kind of person who’d abandon her fiancé. What did that say about her? “It’s his child and I should probably go back and marry him because we’re going to have a baby. Together.”
Seth didn’t say anything, nor did he spring to his feet to lead her back to the limo. Back to her doom.
Wait—how did the limo get here? Had she stolen it?
And was it stealing if she’d rented it for the whole evening?
“Easy,” Seth said again in that soothing voice of his. She could feel it in her chest, warm and comforting. “You might not believe this, but people have babies without being married all the time. It doesn’t mean you’ve doomed your kid from the beginning.”
“How can you say that?” And how was he reading her mind?
His arm tightened around her shoulders. “Because I’ve lived it, Kate. I won’t let anything happen to you—I promise. Now,” he went on even as she gasped at that honest promise—something she’d never heard cross Roger’s lips, “do you remember where the limo came from?”
“Um...” She sat up and dabbed at her eyes again. The waterproof mascara was doing its best, but it was no match for this day and his handkerchief was paying the price. She tried to focus on the limo. “Stein, maybe?” It felt right—Stein Limo. That was a thing, she was pretty sure.
“Ron Stein? He’s a great guy.”
She stared at him in confusion. “You know the limo guy?” She didn’t even know Seth’s last name, but he knew Roger and now the limo guy. Was there anyone Seth didn’t know?
“He rides,” Seth said, as if that explained everything. “I’ll see if I can make a call and let him know where his limo is. But I need you to stay right here, okay?”
“I don’t know where you think I’d go. I’m not walking home.” She wiggled her toes and realized she wasn’t wearing her shoes. Where the hell were they?
But even the thought of going home made her wince. She had a home—with Roger. They’d bought it last year, after finally setting a date for the wedding. It’d been a big sign of their commitment to each other.
No, that wasn’t right. She didn’t have a home with Roger. She owned part of a house. She shared a property with him. They split the bills right down the middle. They’d maintained separate bank accounts, even.
She’d lived with Roger, but it’d never felt like home.
“Promise me, Kate.” His eyes were intense and serious. “You’re not going anywhere without me.”
“I promise.” It wasn’t like she’d sworn to love, honor or obey—but there was something to that promise that resonated in her mind.
Why could she make such a promise to this man she didn’t know but couldn’t to the one she did?
He gave her a satisfied nod of his head, leaned over and slid his hand inside his jacket, right over her left breast. She stiffened and he paused. “Just getting my phone,” he said, purposefully not touching her. “Don’t move.” He stood and walked off to the side, far enough away that she couldn’t hear what he was saying. But he turned back to her and gave her a little smile that set off butterflies in her stomach.
She ignored them and settled back on the bench, trying to get a handle on everything that happened.
It was a lot. But she’d had a good cry and Seth’s jacket was warm and she felt better. Her mind was clearer and she could look past the next five minutes without having a panic attack.
She hoped.
She tried to rationally go over the facts. She was pregnant. She wasn’t marrying Roger. She couldn’t go back to the house she shared with him and she didn’t think she could go to work on Monday. Her parents had sold half of Burroughs Realty to Roger in anticipation of the wedding. He owned it now.
She’d worked for Burroughs Realty her whole life, starting when they had her making copies and greeting clients as a little kid.
But they hadn’t seen fit to give or even sell her part of the agency. Instead, they’d used it almost like a dowry, rewarding Roger for taking her off their hands.
Why hadn’t she realized that before? She was a good real estate agent. She sold her market well. She was more than capable of being a full partner in the family business and running the office.
But it was Roger Caputo who was being rewarded with his name on the front door. Because why? Because he was marrying her?
She was their daughter. Wasn’t she good enough on her own?
Oh, what would her parents say about all this? Especially once they found out she was pregnant? Her mother would try to be supportive—Kate hoped. The prospect of a grandbaby would be exciting, once the humiliation of a broken wedding passed.
But her father? Joe Burroughs was a dyed-in-the-wool workaholic who demanded perfection—or at the very least, that everything be done his way, and in his mind, those two things were the same.
She had to face the facts—her father might disown her for this, and if he did, he might forbid Mom from seeing Kate. Hadn’t he already chosen Roger over her?
Just as she began to panic at the thought, Seth looked up at her again and smiled. It was a very nice smile, seemingly real and not the kind of expression one directed at a crazy person. He hadn’t treated her like she was nuts at all, actually—even though the situation certainly did seem to warrant a little concern.
Instead of telling her she was insane to walk away from Roger, he’d agreed that tying herself to him was a bad idea. Anyone could have said the words, but Seth wasn’t just saying them because she was having a really bad day. He was saying them because he actually knew Roger. Maybe not well, but he’d lived with Roger. He understood what that was like in a way that her friends and even her parents might not. Seth was speaking from a place of wisdom, and that counted for a lot.
It didn’t make any sense that she felt safer with a strange man who rode a motorcycle than she did with the man she’d been with for four years, but there it was. Seth didn’t know her at all, but he was more concerned with her well-being than anyone else. After all, how long had she been here? At least half an hour, maybe much longer. And had anyone come looking for her? Roger? Her parents? Any of the wedding guests?
No. Seth had stumbled upon her, noticed something was wrong, and he was actively making sure she was okay. He’d given her his leather jacket and dried her tears.
He glanced at her again, another smile on his lips—which set off another round of butterflies in her stomach. Now that her mind had cleared, it was hard to miss the fact that her Good Samaritan was also intensely handsome.
No, no—she was not going to be the kind of woman who defined herself by her attractions to men. It was blatantly obvious that she couldn’t run from Roger’s arms straight into a stranger’s. She was pregnant, for God’s sake. Romance should be the last thing on her mind.
She needed a place to stay tonight. Maybe tomorrow. She needed a job that didn’t involve Roger or her father. She needed...
A plan. She couldn’t sit here at a scenic overlook forever.
Had she managed to bring anything important with her—her wallet, money, credit cards, her license—anything that could help her out tonight? She rather doubted it—she didn’t even know where her shoes were.
Seth ended his call and began to walk back toward her, and Kate realized something.
She needed him.
Three
“Come on,” Seth said, pulling her to her feet. She was not a tiny thing—she was only a few inches shorter than he was—but there was still something delicate about her. “I’m going to take you to a hotel.” Her eyes widened in surprise but she didn’t lean away from him. Not that that mattered. “And I’m going to leave you there,” he added with a smile.
“Oh. Of course,” she said, her cheeks blushing a soft pink. “Thank you. I don’t think I can go back to the house I shared with Roger.” She cleared her throat. “Are we taking the limo?”
“No. I talked to Ron—he’s going to send someone out to pick it up. They did have cops looking for it but he’s reported it not stolen. He’s not going to press charges.”
She blinked at him. “Is that because of you?”
The short answer was yes. Ron had been furious that Kate had driven off with his limo—apparently it was his most expensive ride. He’d already fired the driver for dereliction of duties.
Ron’s temper burned hot, but it always fizzled out quickly. Ron had been buddies with Billy Bolton for years and Seth had seen him in action plenty of times. He had to blow his top, and then he could be reasoned with.
Seth had waited until Ron finished blustering and then had convinced the man not to fire his driver—who had reasonably thought he’d had another hour before anyone would care about the whereabouts of the limo—and to inform the police that no theft had been committed.
But that’s not what he told her. Instead, Seth said, “Ron’s a great guy. He understood.” Kate notched an eyebrow at him—clearly she wasn’t buying that line.
But that was his story and he was sticking to it. Kate had already had a terrible day. The prospect of being arrested and booked for grand theft auto would only make everything a thousand times worse and he didn’t want that, especially now that she’d calmed down.
He hadn’t lied when he’d told her he’d keep her safe. This pull he felt to protect her—from the consequences of taking a limo, from Roger, from her thoughtless parents, from the harsh realities of life as a single mother—it wasn’t something that made sense on a rational level. He didn’t know her. He had no claim to her.
But by God, he wasn’t going to cast her to the winds of fate and call it a day.
“Okay,” she finally said, exhaling heavily. Which did some very interesting things to her chest. “Then what do we do next?”
“We ride.” The color drained out of her cheeks. “Have you ever been on a motorcycle before?”
She shook her head, her tilting hair bobbing dangerously near her left ear. He reached up and tucked it back in place as best he could. He managed to do so without letting his fingers linger, so there was that.
“I’ve been riding for years,” he assured her. “All you have to do is hold on. Can you do that?”
“I...” She looked down at her dress. “Um...”
She had a point. He eyed the confection suspiciously. The skirt was a full ball-gown style, layered with ruffles and lace. It spread out from Kate’s waist in a circle that was easily five feet in diameter.
Ron had made it clear—Seth wasn’t driving the limo. But Kate in that dress on the back of the chopper was a recipe for disaster. He could just imagine the wind getting underneath her skirts and blowing that dress up like a balloon.
“Is there any way to reduce the volume?” He tried to think back to what his aunt Stella had taught him about women’s fashion. “An underskirt of some kind that we can remove?
Her face got redder. “I have on a structured petticoat. It’s separate from the dress.”
“Can you get it off?”
Kate’s hands went to her waist. “I’m... I’m wearing a corset. I can’t bend at the waist very well. And the skirt is tied on behind.” She sounded unsure about the whole thing.
Seth mentally snorted to himself. Because if there was one thing a groom enjoyed on his wedding night, it was fighting through complicated layers of women’s clothing. Petticoats and corsets—what was this, the 1800s? “How did you get into it?”
“I had help. My bridesmaids...”
Seth realized that if he wanted to get her on the bike anytime soon, he was going to have to play lady’s maid. Which was not, he mentally reminded himself, the same as undressing her. At no point was he getting her naked.
No. Definitely not undressing a beautiful woman he wanted to pull into his arms and hold tight. Just...removing a few unnecessary layers of clothing. So that she could safely sit on his bike. That was all.
Trying to keep his mind focused on the task at hand, he eyed the bodice of her dress. “Do you need to take the corset off?” he asked reluctantly, because that seemed less like removing layers and more like just stripping her completely bare.
She shook her head quickly. “I was able to drive in it, apparently. If we can get the petticoat off, it should be fine.”
Of all the things Seth thought he’d be doing today, falling to his knees in front of a runaway bride and lifting the hem of her skirt over the voluminous petticoat was not something that had made the top ten. Or even the top one hundred. But that’s what he was doing. He lifted the satin of her dress, rising as he moved the fabric up.
There should have been nothing sensual about this, lifting her skirts. She was still completely dressed. The petticoat stood between him and her body. God only knew how many layers were built into it, because she was still shaped like an inverted top. So this should have been nothing.
But there was something erotic about it.
Focus, Bolton, he scolded himself. This was just an action born of necessity. He had to get her someplace safe, where people she knew could step up and take over. Taking care of a pregnant runaway bride was not in his skill set, and besides, it wasn’t like he was attracted to her anyway.
Sure, she was beautiful—more so now that she’d calmed down. And yes, he was curious about what she looked like without the overdone hair, makeup and dress. And fine, he did feel a protective pull toward her. But that didn’t add up to attraction any more than helping her adjust her outfit to ride on the bike was undressing her.
And that was final.
After a few snags—the petticoat was huge—he succeeded in getting the skirt up to her waist. He handed the bunched-up fabric to her and eyed the next layer. He could just see the bottom edge of her corset—white satin trimmed in baby blue. It appeared the waistband of the petticoat was underneath the corset.
This just kept getting better, because if he had to undo the corset, he’d have to remove the dress completely. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that. If he were going to properly undress this woman, it sure as hell wouldn’t be at a roadside pull-off.
He could see her chest rising and falling quickly. Did she feel the tension, too? Or was there something else?
He managed to pull his gaze away from her chest and found himself lost in her eyes. Her pupils were wide and dark and damn if she didn’t look like a woman who was being undressed by a lover.
He put his hands on her waist, just below the bunched fabric of her skirt. Her waist felt right under his hands, warm and soft—and a little hard, thanks to the corset.
Who was he to talk about instincts? Yeah, she shouldn’t get married when her instincts told her to run. But his were telling him to pull her against his chest and tuck her into his arms and not let go. And fighting that instinct only got harder when she lifted her gaze to his because she took his breath away.
“Turn around,” he told her because he needed not to get lost in her eyes.
He needed to keep a cool head here—among other body parts. She was not for him. Only a complete asshole would take advantage of a woman in this situation. Seth was many things, but he didn’t think he was an asshole, complete or otherwise.
She turned in his arms, and Seth forced himself to step back and assess the situation. Luckily, the corset didn’t ride as low in the back as it did in the front. He could see where the petticoat was tied—in a knot.
Of course it was knotted.
He was tempted to just cut the damn thing off her body, but then a shiver raced over her skin. Brandishing a blade wasn’t the best way to keep her calm, so Seth gritted his teeth and got on with it. It felt like it took forever, but after only a minute or so, the knot finally gave. “Now what?” he asked as the waistband sagged down around her hips.
She didn’t answer for a moment. “I had to step into it and they pulled it up because...” She swallowed. “Because it’s so structured, it won’t fall on its own. So I guess you’ll have to push it down and I’ll step out of it.” Her voice shook.
Just for the ride, Seth repeated as he grabbed the waistband of the petticoat and worked it over her hips. Structured must mean able to stand upright on its own, because the damned fabric had no give in it at all. What kind of fresh hell was this, anyway?
The petticoat slipped over her skin, and he had to bite back his groan. He barely knew this woman and he wasn’t even sure he liked her. But as he revealed the frilly lace of the white thong and the bare cheeks of her bottom, liking had nothing to do with it. His mouth went dry and his hands started to shake.
His instincts—they were pushing him past protective and into raw lust. He was strong, but how strong did one man have to be? Because he wasn’t sure he could handle the way that thong left her bottom completely exposed.
Then it only got worse as he wrestled the petticoat down and revealed inch by creamy inch of her legs and bare skin. Why couldn’t she be wearing those supportive bike shorts that some women wore instead of this scrap of lace? Why couldn’t she be wearing a simpler outfit? Why couldn’t she be someone who didn’t inspire this reaction in him?
It only got worse when he hit the top of her thigh-high stockings and the blue garter on her right leg. Of course it matched the blue trim on her corset.
Roger, Seth concluded, was an idiot to let this woman go. Because Seth was pretty sure that he was going to have fantasies about this moment for the rest of his natural life.
He struggled not to touch her skin—but his hands shook even harder with the effort of it. Although he had to fight all that “structure” for every damned inch, he managed to get the petticoat pushed down to the ground, which meant that he was at eye level with her bottom. And it was perhaps one of the nicer bottoms he had ever seen. Firm and rounded and begging to be touched.
Except it wasn’t. This was not a seduction. This was an action born of necessity. He would not touch her. She’d already had a bad day, and being groped by a biker wouldn’t make anything better.
“Now what?” His voice cracked with the strain of trying to sound normal. “Do you just step out?” That was when he realized she didn’t have on shoes. They were standing on gravel. Had she been missing her shoes the entire time?
“I...I don’t want to lose my balance,” she said in a strangled-sounding voice. Before Seth could process what she meant by that, she turned. Which was good due to the fact that he was no longer staring at her ass.
But now he was staring at her front. The thin lace of her virginal white thong covered the vee of her sex and everything about Seth came to a screeching halt. His blood, his breath—nothing worked. He couldn’t even blink as he stared at her body.
It only got worse when she placed one hand on his shoulder for balance. Seth squeezed his eyes shut because there was no point in looking if he couldn’t have her, and he couldn’t have her. Offering anything beyond assistance would be a mistake. She’d run away from a wedding today. She was pregnant with another man’s baby. None of her was for him.
Even though his eyes were closed, the scent of her body surrounded him, torturing him. It wasn’t the scent of arousal, but there was no missing the sweet notes of flowers—maybe lilacs, and a hint of vanilla that had been buried underneath the layers. Her smell reached out and stroked him, making him shake with need.
She stepped out of the petticoat and—thankfully—let go of the skirt. It fell, covering her legs and hiding that lacy thong and those white thigh-highs and that garter belt from his eyes. Seth gave himself another few moments to make sure he had himself under control.
Then she let out a little cry and stumbled. He moved without thinking, catching her before she fell. His arms folded around her body and finally, he was able to pull him to her.
But despite his awareness of her body—and the fact that her arms went around his neck so that he could feel her breasts pressing against his chest—he didn’t miss the way she shivered or how her breathing was ragged.
“Easy,” he said, coming to his feet with her in his arms.
“I stepped on a rock,” she said, her voice wavering. She sounded like she was on the verge of tears again, and that hurt him in a way he hadn’t expected.
He wanted to make sure she didn’t hurt. He’d wanted that from the very beginning. But now, it felt more personal.
He didn’t understand this strange drive to take care of her. He could’ve called her a ride. Surely someone could’ve come to get her. Rapid City had taxis, and for a price they could’ve made it out this far.
But he hadn’t. He hadn’t done anything except hold her close and make sure she was okay.
He didn’t want to think too much about why.
He carried her over to his bike and sat her on the back. He gave thanks that his father had built this prototype with the passenger seat behind the driver’s seat. Part of Billy Bolton’s rigorous testing was to make sure that he took Seth’s mom, Jenny, out for rides with him. Billy claimed that sometimes, the additional weight of a passenger would reveal design flaws that needed to be tweaked. Because Seth didn’t want to consider any other options about what happened when his parents went out riding, he accepted that explanation at face value.
“I’ll put the petticoat in the car and then we’ll go, okay?” he said. “But you’re going to have to straddle the bike. See if you can figure that out with your skirts.” He waved a hand over her dress and hoped like hell he wouldn’t have to take the whole thing off to get her corset removed.
But even as he thought that, his brain decided it would be a really great idea. He would kill to see Kate Burroughs in nothing but a corset and some stockings and a garter. Splayed out on the bed, a package that Seth was almost done unwrapping.
He slammed the brakes on that line of thought. Nope. She had too many bags to carry, and he was a single twenty-five-year-old man. He had no interest in tangling with someone whose personal life was as messy as Kate Burroughs’s was. No matter how good she looked, no matter how sweet she smelled, no matter how much she’d clung to his neck.
No matter how right she’d felt in his arms.
She nodded and he went back to get the petticoat. It was all dirty with rocks and bits of grass stuck in it. He shoved it into the back of the limo and glanced around, hoping against hope that there would be a purse with a wallet, but nothing. There was some champagne that was probably warm, though. But he didn’t think that’d help anything right now.
He locked the limo and left the keys on the ground on the inside of the front driver’s-side wheel, where Stein had told him to leave them. True dark was settling now and it was going to be a long, cold ride back to Rapid City. It wouldn’t be so bad if he had his jacket, but he couldn’t let her freeze to death behind him.