His Courtesan Bride (Brides of Mayfair 3)

by Michelle McMaster

Above all, she had learned the danger of allowing passion free rein.

  Serena pushed Darius away with all her might, and he stumbled backwards. Her body was strong now, lithe with well-honed muscle. Her training in the martial arts had ensured that. Serena could have had Darius flat on his back in moments, but that would have been overdoing it a bit.

  He stepped back, a flash of anger and disbelief clouding his eyes. “What’s this? A little late to be playing the role of innocent maid, isn’t it?”

  “I play at nothing, my lord,” Serena replied, hotly. “I simply wished to stop you from taking liberties to which you have no right, and never shall.”

  He stepped toward her, saying, “I did once, Serena. And you welcomed it.”

  “I was a fool, then,” she replied. “I assure you, I am a fool no longer. You destroyed my reputation, while you emerged from the scandal unscathed, and a good deal richer. Funny, how society treats young women who become victims of men such as you.”

  The painful memories came rushing back at her—the cruel remarks from strangers, the unflattering publicity in the papers, her crushed and bleeding heart—but she fought them off. She would not relive the nightmare now, in front of the man who had casually engineered such torture.

  He hadn’t changed. Darius still saw her as something to be used for his own pleasure.

  As if to confirm Serena’s very thoughts, a wicked gleam lit his eye as he stepped closer. “Come now, that’s not the way I remember it at all. What I do remember is how you melted in my arms.”

  Serena wanted to laugh. “You have quite the nerve, Darius. You used me. You led me on. You dallied with me in the gardens after you had just proposed marriage to Miss Barton. Didn’t you read the papers? They called me the Telford Whore. A young lady doesn’t receive many marriage proposals after something like that. And the ones she does receive, she’d rather die than accept.”

  For a moment, Serena thought she saw true remorse on Darius’s face. “I am sorry about that, Serena. More than you know.”

  This time she did laugh. “Oh, well, that makes everything better.”

  “What do you want, Serena?” he demanded.

  “From you, nothing,” she spat.

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes, that is so.” Anger burned hot and righteous in her veins. This man, who had so callously orchestrated her ruination and all but caused her mother’s death, could be nothing but her enemy now.

  “Not even this?” Darius held out a midnight blue velvet case. “It’s for you. Open it.”

  Serena didn’t want to open it, didn’t want to be curious about what was inside. But Lady Devlyn would admonish Serena if she let her emotions get in the way at a time like this.

  Slowly, she opened the case. A dazzling emerald and diamond necklace lay nestled in a bed of snow white satin. Next to the Maharaja’s diamond, this was the most spectacular piece of jewelry Serena had ever laid eyes upon.

  But she’d be damned if she let Darius Manning know that.

  She snapped the velvet case shut and gave it back to him without a word.

  But Darius was good at this game, too. He didn’t flinch. His gaze, which previously burned with heat, now ran cool. “You don’t like it?”

  “I have no intention of accepting such an extravagant gift from you,” Serena replied.

  His gaze narrowed, as if he were intrigued. “You’re the first woman I ever met who wished a gift was less extravagant that it was. Should I have gotten a smaller set of emeralds?”

  “It is not the expense,” she said. “It is the fact that I do not want any gifts from you at all, my lord. Not now. Not ever.”

  “And that is all you have to say about a necklace, which cost a king’s ransom?”

  That was nice to know, Serena thought. But the trained courtesan would not let that emotion show. Not to him.

  She smiled haughtily. “Darius, you must remember, I am a courtesan now. I have many admirers who bring me extravagant gifts and make me generous offers.”

  “Indeed.” He folded his arms across his chest and looked quite cross.

  “Does that bother you?” Serena asked.

  “What if it does?”

  At one time, she would have begged to hear those words from her lover’s mouth, would have begged to have him come to her like this, in the dark of night, seeking her favor. But that was an eternity ago. Time had changed her, as had the pain of his betrayal.

  “I cannot control your reactions, my lord, nor do I have any interest in them,” she said, finally.

  Darius stared down at her. “I must say, this was not the welcome I had imagined from you tonight. Especially not after presenting you with the emeralds. There are many women in London who would be more than willing to accept such a priceless gift from me, and accept me into their bed to show their undying gratitude.”

  “Then give it to them!” she scoffed. “If you think that’s all it takes to get into my bed, sir, you are sorely mistaken. I am insulted you would suggest such a thing.”

  Now his eyes danced with amusement, which infuriated Serena even more. “Insulted? My dear, are you, or are you not, offering yourself to the highest bidder as a courtesan?”

  “It is not about money.”

  “Is it not?” He sounded intrigued. “Do tell.”

  “It is about freedom,” she answered, “—of choice, of expression, of passion.”

  Darius gave a bitter laugh. “If you believe that, Serena, you’re even more naïve than I thought you were.”

  “You think marriage offers a woman more freedom than the life of a courtesan?” Serena demanded, incredulously. “A woman trades the rights to her womb to a man willing to pay for the privilege, becoming little more than a slave with the title of ‘Mrs’ or ‘Lady’ or ‘Countess’? I believe marriage to be a bad bargain, sir, for the woman, at least.”

  Darius raised a brow. “You seem to be quite soured upon an institution which you personally know nothing about.”

  She whirled on him. “If I know nothing about it, it’s because you rendered me un-marriageable! But now that I am older and wiser, I should thank you for your callous ruination of me, for it spared me the unfortunate fate which so many unhappy women in our society are forced to endure. My friend, Lady Felicity Sterling, was married to a vile man who enjoyed tormenting and abusing her as if she were nothing more than a mongrel. His death made her a very Merry Widow, indeed. Now, she has chosen the life of a courtesan over returning to the abject imprisonment of marriage, and I daresay she wished she had chosen it sooner.”

  “I am sorry for your friend,” he said. “And I wish her every success in her new vocation. She made a bad match with Sterling, it is true. But all marriages are not so unhappy.”

  “No?” Serena asked. “You refer to your own then, to Miss Barton?”

  Darius’s eyes held a dangerous warning. “I did not come here to discuss my marriage with you, or my late wife, if you please.”

  “Why did you come, my lord?” Serena demanded. “To deliver a gift of jewelry? Or to try to make amends for that fateful night at Telford House?”

  “I think we both know why I came here tonight, Serena,” he said. “The fact remains just as it did that night at the Telford Ball. I want you.”

  A dangerous, forbidden thrill danced across Serena’s skin, and she hated herself for feeling it. “Then you shall be sorely disappointed, Darius. You did not have me that night, and you shall not have me now, nor ever.”

  Her words seemed to push Darius over an edge of control, which he had been fighting against since he arrived.

  He took two long strides and pulled Serena close against him again, forcing her to hang onto him for balance. “Tell me again that you don’t want me, after this.” He covered her mouth with his, teasing, plundering, penetrating with his tongue. Serena fought to keep her head, for Darius was a formidable opponent in this sensual battle of wills. His blazing kisses were hotter than she had remembered, hotter than the ones she�
�d lain awake night after night thinking about, hotter than they had a right to be.

  She pushed him back, and realized with shock that she was weak as a kitten. Her body flooded with passion, trembling from Darius’s sensual onslaught. She forced herself to look up into his sapphire eyes and saw with awful regret that they still had the power to make her melt like butter in the sun.

  “It will take more than that to win me this time.” She stepped away from him, catching her breath, forcing herself to play the cool, controlled courtesan. She decided to blow a little smoke his way. “You see, you are too late. I’ve already chosen to accept an offer.” She paused. “From the Duke of Balfour.”

  At that, anger blazed hotly in Darius’s eyes. “Balfour? You cannot be serious.”

  “I am entirely serious,” she replied, haughtily. “Why shouldn’t I become his courtesan? The man is a duke.”

  “The man is an idiot,” Darius scoffed. “And I am richer than he.”

  Serena gave a regal smile. “There is power and position to consider as well. The duke is a favorite of the King. I’d have all the power and wealth of a duchess without the constricting bonds of matrimony to tie me down. I’d be insane to refuse him.”

  “You’d be insane to accept him, you mean,” Darius replied.

  “If you insist upon insulting me, I shall ask you to leave,” she said, icily.

  “The man is beneath you, Serena,” Darius spat. “I fought alongside him at Waterloo, if you could call what he did ‘fighting.’ The duke is nothing but a coward. The thought of him touching you, of…”

  “Taking me? Possessing my body, the way you never shall?” Serena twisted the words like a knife. “Like it or not, Darius, I am no longer the innocent girl you tried to seduce that night at the Telford Ball. I am a courtesan, now—mistress of my own fate. And I shall attach myself to whomever I choose.”

  Darius stared deep into her eyes for a moment. She saw a primal fierceness that must have frightened many a Frenchman on the battlefields of Waterloo. He studied her for a moment before shaking his head in frustration.

  “You’re wrong, you know,” he said. “You are the same girl that captured me in those weeks we shared together, that gave of her heart and soul so innocently, so freely that night in the Telford Gardens.”

  He stepped away from her then, and she immediately felt her anger boil over. He was wrong. She was not that same girl, and she never would be again. That naïve girl was dead…just like his wife.

  “I’ve left an envelope with the butler, outlining my offer to you. I think you’ll find it most generous.” Darius turned at the doorway. “But I hope that is not what sways your decision, Serena. I hope that what it comes down to, is the memory of your pleasure. Your passions. We both know there is much to explore between us. I bid you good evening.”

  With that, Darius Manning, the Earl of Kane, took his leave.

  Serena crossed the room to the plush velvet chesterfield, grabbed a cushion, and punched it with a tightly balled fist. Her blood burned with fury. How dare he think she would ever want him for pleasure? She hated the man.

  She punched the pillow again, then threw it across the room where it whizzed past a priceless Chinese vase and hit the wall, bouncing off an equally priceless painting.

  This meeting had not gone as she’d thought it would. Serena hated to admit that she’d been unprepared for the heat of Darius’s kiss, or the arousal his touch had stirred in her traitorous body.

  It wasn’t fair. She’d been trained for this, trained to stay in control of her emotions at all times. And tonight, she had failed miserably. Darius had stirred her passions, and her hatred, like a chef stirring a pot. What was worse, he had known just how much he could still affect her.

  That would not do at all.

  The man was insufferable. Arrogant. Offensive.

  And still, he managed to make her knees go weak with desire.

  No matter how generous his offer, Serena was bound and determined to rip it up and throw the shreds into the fireplace where they belonged.

  Of course, feminine curiosity made her wonder just how much Darius was willing to spend to secure her as his own private courtesan—a role which she would never play.

  Serena pulled the bell, cinching her robe tighter. She admonished herself inwardly—as if the butler would be shocked by a show of cleavage. He was employed by Lady Night, after all.

  In moments, Mansfield appeared. As if anticipating her thoughts, the tall grey-haired man held a silver salver in front of him. On it lay a crisp ivory linen envelope. She saw her name written upon it.

  “Thank you, Mansfield,” she said.

  He bowed in his customary way and exited the room without so much as a glance toward her half-naked bosom.

  She tore open the envelope and quickly scanned its contents.

  Her hand flew to cover her mouth as she gasped.

  Darius had made her an impressive offer. Very impressive indeed. Her heart sank, for it easily exceeded the duke’s.

  Balfour had promised her a yearly annuity and the use of his rented London townhouse, several items of jewelry, a luxurious coach at her disposal, and accounts with London’s finest seamstress and milliner in Bond Street.

  All in exchange for the pleasure of her company.

  Darius had offered her a larger annuity, a luxurious London townhouse—to be fully deeded to Serena at the end of their contract—as well as the services of a personal seamstress and milliner who were to be kept at her exclusive disposal, her own personal solicitor, as well as a landau with horses, to be housed in her own stable.

  The list of jewelry took up a separate page altogether. Those pieces would also become her personal property after their contract expired.

  Instead of being overjoyed at such a splendid offer, Serena found herself fuming. Darius knew full well that he could outbid the duke. And perhaps any other courtesan would rush to accept him as her protector, past history or no. But Serena would rather die than become Darius Manning’s plaything, even if it was the most lucrative offer she was likely to receive.

  Lady Devlyn would be shocked, and more than a little disappointed in her protégée. Felicity and Bliss would most likely echo the sentiment. For everything they had been taught by Lady Devlyn flew in the face of what Serena was contemplating. She was letting her emotions affect what should have been a simple professional decision.

  But how could Serena, in all honesty, become courtesan to a man she despised?

  Clenching her teeth in frustration, she crumpled the papers and threw them on the floor.

  She didn’t care what anyone thought. She was mistress of her own future now, and she would not accept Darius as her lover, not even if her life depended upon it.

  Serena circled the room before finally plunking herself down on the plush velvet sofa, struggling to catch her breath. Somehow, the aftermath of her meeting with Darius had left her with a racing pulse and a dizzy head.

  Was it anger that caused such a reaction? Or was it something else? Something she preferred not to think about?

  One thing was certain. Darius was the Devil incarnate. He had already ruined Serena’s reputation and irreparably changed the course of her life. What more did he want from her?

  Gingerly, she raised her fingers to her mouth, touching the tender skin there. Her determination to refuse Darius should have left her elated, but instead, she struggled with an unsettling thought. For even through all her declarations of refusal, the fact remained that her lips still burned—most exquisitely so—from his kiss.

  And that knowledge frightened Serena more than she cared to admit.

  Lady Devlyn had taught them many secrets about being a successful courtesan. One of them was that no matter what fiction you presented to a man, the consummate courtesan always knew the truth of the situation, inside herself.

  That was what scared Serena.

  The ugly truth.

  Darius was a man who could tempt the Saints in heaven to t
rade in their wings, if only for one night in his sinful arms. And Serena knew exactly how wonderful those wicked arms felt as they held her close.

  That was why she didn’t want to become Darius`s courtesan.

  She didn’t know if she had the strength to endure such wicked torture again.

  Chapter 4

  “In many ways, the true skill of the courtesan is not seen in the act of passion itself, but in everything that leads up to it. The most potent aphrodisiac is not perfume, or wine, but in the delay of pleasure. Make them wait…make them wait, and then, make them wait some more.”

  –from Memoirs of a Courtesan, by Lady Night

  “Certainly, you must do what you feel is right, Serena,” Lady Devlyn said, as she brought the ivory china cup to her lips and took a sip of steaming, fragrant jasmine tea. “And if you have decided to refuse Lord Kane, no matter that his offer is so impressive, you must have good reason to do so.”

  The day after Serena had received offers from the Duke of Balfour and Lord Kane, she and the rest of the Courtesan Club were sitting in the salon discussing Serena’s future.

  She had been prepared for this—-for the questioning looks from her friends, and the cloaked disapproval from Lady Devlyn herself. But she hadn’t been prepared for how uncomfortable she would feel when trying to explain her reasoning.

  “The duke’s offer is quite good as well,” Lady Devlyn said, “and though perhaps not as financially rewarding, there is his influence with the King to consider. Of course, if you must accept the duke’s offer, don’t let him know right away. Men enjoy the chase. Let him fight for you. Just because you are a courtesan does not mean you can be taken for granted, even by a duke.”

  “What do you have in mind?” Serena asked. She had thought her decision to accept the duke’s offer would put an end to it.

  Lady D continued, “I think you should play hard to get with Balfour.”

  “Let me be quite certain of what you mean. You want me to refuse the duke?” Serena asked, surprised.

  “Not outright. Just don’t accept him yet,” Lady D advised. “The offer you received from the Earl of Kane exceeded the duke’s, but they don’t have to know that. Play each one off the other. Tell them their offers were too close to decide upon. If one of them wants you to be their exclusive courtesan, they’ll simply have to do better.”