“And you’re a monk, are you?” Darius countered. “You certainly didn’t act like one in Portugal and Spain.”
“Ah, but none of those ladies were virgins, and none of them were forced to become my mistress because I’d ruined their reputations,” Havelock commented. “As far as we know, their reputations were ruined long before they ever laid eyes on me.”
“Well, count yourself lucky in that regard.”
“I do,” Havelock replied, helping himself to a sausage. “Unfortunately that’s all I have to recommend me these days. I’m just a poor, unemployed toady with a high set of morals and no meaningful prospects. Lovely breakfast, by the way.”
Darius sipped the last of his coffee, looking up as Whiddington, his butler, entered the dining room carrying a silver tray.
“A message has come for you, my lord,” the butler said, bowing slightly.
Darius glanced at Havelock, who quirked a brow in curiosity.
“Bring it here,” Darius commanded. He took the ivory vellum envelope from the tray. Was it his imagination, or did the scent of roses emanate from the letter? And what was worse, did his pulse quicken at the possibility that it might be from Serena?
“Well, don’t just sit there, open the damned thing!” Havelock said impatiently, craning to get a look.
Darius ripped open the envelope and removed a folded card. He read it aloud: “Lord Kane, I am pleased to inform you that I have decided to accept your generous offer and will become your exclusive courtesan. I look forward to our next meeting. Yours, Serena.”
Yours….
Just the thought of Serena Ransom becoming his, in every sense of the word, made Darius’s trousers uncomfortably tight.
“That’s it, then,” Havelock said. “You have won her.”
Darius took a deep breath. His friend was right, he had won this particular battle.
Then why, he wondered, did he not feel more victorious?
Chapter 10
“Preparing to become a gentleman’s private courtesan is much like designing a production for the theater. Sets, costumes, lighting; all must be carefully arranged in order to make the opening night very memorable indeed….”
–from Memoirs of a Courtesan, by Lady Night
Apparently, it was quite a complicated endeavor to ready oneself for an official debut as a courtesan.
Serena marveled at the military precision with which Lady Devlyn commanded her troops. Of course, there was the modiste Darius had hired, along with her staff of seamstresses; Monsieur LaFlamme, the decorator for the townhouse; the solicitor, Mr. Ridgeway; the woman from the employment agency, Mrs. Hendsbee, who was in charge of staffing the house; and it all had to be done within a week.
Day after day, Lady Devlyn’s house buzzed with people bringing fabric samples, shoes, hats, gloves, and jewelry, all for Serena’s approval. Decisions had to be made about cutlery, china patterns, draperies and rugs. Serena had almost giggled uncontrollably when Monsieur LaFlamme asked her quite seriously if she would prefer a blue or a green live macaw as decoration in the foyer.
Felicity and Bliss had stood by her side each and every day, assisting her with color choices for the house, fabric choices for her wardrobe, and anything and everything else that needed to be done. They also seized every opportunity to tease her about her foremost duty in her new position—that of pleasing a man in bed.
“I think you should try this position, Serena.” Bliss looked up from reading the Kama Sutra, and explained, “It’s called ‘Lute Hanging from an Ivory Tusk.’ The woman does a half-shoulder stand, putting her feet on his chest. He kneels behind you and, well…you know.”
Yes, Serena knew, alright.
Lady Devlyn smiled from across the room. “The Lute—that was a favorite of the Maharajah and I. You must try it with Lord Kane, and tell me what you think of it.”
Serena couldn’t help but blush. Though she was a courtesan, well-educated in the arts of love, she was still a virgin. It was difficult not to feel some trepidation about that first moment, when Darius would place his swollen member between her legs and enter her body, changing her forever.
She would be a woman, then.
His woman.
At one time in her life, she had wanted that more than anything in the world. But she had never dreamed it would be like this with Lord Kane.
Darius had paid for the privilege of being her lover, and he now had the right to enjoy her body whenever he wished. That was what she agreed to when she signed the contract at her solicitor’s office a week ago.
The curious thing was that she hadn’t seen Darius since the night of his ball, when he’d tricked her under the oak tree and succeeded in chasing the Duke of Balfour out of the running.
After she’d sent the message to Lord Kane, he had sent the solicitor to Lady Devlyn’s house with a carefully worded contract for Serena to review. Soon after, they had officially begun their relationship as courtesan and protector.
Even though Darius had to be the most infuriating man she’d ever met, Serena couldn’t help but think about what the next few days would hold. A year ago, she had wanted nothing more than to join her body with his in the act of love. Of course, back then she’d thought he would soon be her husband.
How foolish she had been.
But the passion he’d stirred in her had been unforgettable. Only a week ago at his own ball, Darius had proven that he still had the power to arouse her to dizzying heights of desire. Though she hated to admit it, somewhere deep inside her, the girl from the Telford Gardens still existed, still wanted Darius’s hands on her body and his mouth on her lips.
If Serena was now in a position to enjoy the physical pleasure Lord Kane had to offer as well as the benefits of his wealth, why shouldn’t she? It was perhaps the best of both worlds—all the benefits of being a wife without the restrictions and lifetime commitment. Added to that was the accumulation of her own assets and real estate, and permanent control of both.
Who could ask for anything more?
Yet there was a niggling feeling in her breast that told her Darius might ask for more from her, and might expect her to give it. But she would not, could not, give more than their contract stipulated. For Serena had the sneaking suspicion that Darius wanted much more than her body.
He wanted the key to her soul.
And that was something she would do anything to protect.
Tonight would be her first test, for tonight she would entertain Darius in her new townhouse. Perhaps not fully hers yet, but after their contract was over, it would be. That was one of the stipulations. After six months together, the deed to a magnificent townhouse in Grosvenor Square would be hers. No one could take that away from her.
Lady Devlyn assured her that this was just the beginning. Everything Serena had ever wanted was within reach: wealth, security, and a heart that could never be broken.
Most wives didn’t have a hope in Hell of attaining anything of the like when they entered into the institution of marriage. If they were lucky, they ended up with a husband who didn’t beat them or otherwise abuse them, and they might even receive an allowance. The unlucky ones might be saddled with more babies than they could feed, cursed with disease, poverty and hopelessness.
Her poor, dear mother had endured the last two, as well as her father’s violence. And for what? The privilege of being a baroness? The title hadn’t helped her much when the family was starving.
And now, as courtesan to the richest man in England, Serena was certain she’d never starve again.
She imagined her mother, looking down on her from Heaven, finally at peace. ‘You won’t have to worry about me anymore, Mother,’ Serena wanted to say. ‘Your little girl will be safe, now.’
It was a strange thing, Serena thought. Most young women would cringe at the thought of their mothers knowing they’d become courtesans. But she knew her dear mother would be proud of Serena’s cunning and shrewdness in pursuing this unlikely vocation, for the very
man who had ruined her would now be paying her bills.
But Darius was going to pay for much more than that. By the end of their association, Lord Kane was going to learn a lesson or two of his own. And Serena would certainly enjoy teaching him.
* * *
Darius stepped out of the carriage and onto the wet street. It had rained earlier in the evening, and the cobblestones shone slick in the lamplight. The cloying mugginess matched his mood. The urgency of something unfinished hung in the air…reminding him of the situation with Serena.
Tonight he would finish what he`d started in the Telford Gardens over a year ago. Tonight he would have Serena, completely.
Tonight, he would deflower her.
He turned to his driver. “Take the rig around back, Hanley. Then go to the kitchen and ask Cook to make a pot of tea. I’ve no idea what time I shall be returning to Manning House, but when I am ready, I’ll send for you.”
Hanley tipped his cap. He’d been Darius’s driver for years, and so knew his habits well. “Enjoy your evening, my lord.” He clucked for the team to pull ahead and disappeared down the street.
Darius looked up at the fashionable townhouse before him. It was one of the most expensive in Grosvenor Square, and it was now the home of his personal courtesan. Perhaps he’d spent too much on it, but he couldn’t help himself. Serena was a beautiful woman. She belonged in a beautiful home.
He gazed up at the door, black and shiny, the epitome of good taste. From the outside, there was nothing to indicate that a courtesan, employed only for the purpose of a man`s pleasure, lived behind it.
It was the height of decadence.
And it was all his for the taking.
Considering what it had cost him to get this far in life, he felt that he deserved it. He’d paid his dues many times over. And now he was ready to reap the rewards.
Starting with Serena.
The memory of their fateful night in the gardens of Telford House had never left him. In fact, it had tortured him more effectively than any physical torment could have. In the days following his betrayal of Serena, Darius had barely been able to eat. Only the taste of brandy kept him going.
He’d hardly been able to look at Henrietta during their wedding ceremony. She and her mother had attributed his strange mood to that of a nervous groom. In reality, he was fighting a battle against himself and losing. For no matter what he tried, he could not remove the image of Serena’s pain-stricken face when she’d realized the truth. That—coupled with the memory of her hot, quivering body shaking with pleasure—was enough to make a man lose what little sense he had.
He had wanted Serena—in his arms, in his bed, in his life. And even after he realized that he would have to do his duty and marry Henrietta, Darius had been unable to stay away from Serena. He’d sought her out at those society functions, uncaring of the price either of them might pay for such folly.
In the end, Serena had paid the most for their association, though his sentence had been anything but light. Marriage to Henrietta was its own kind of Hell, as he soon discovered.
Now, his wife was dead. Her shrill voice and violent manner forever silenced. He was free to live as he chose.
And he had every intention of doing so, starting with tonight and the woman who waited for him inside this magnificent townhouse.
Darius ascended the stone steps and rapped on the door with his walking stick. Moments later, the door opened.
A fearsome-looking man, like a jackal, peered out at him. A black turban was twined on top of his head, and a swath of fabric hung down to drape about his chin, which was covered by a full, curly black beard. His skin was the color of dark sand, as weather-beaten and tough as an old piece of leather, while black gauzy robes hung from his shoulders, down over the silk pantaloons. A deadly-looking scimitar hung from the belt at his waist, the silver metal glinting in the light of nearby wall sconces.
Darius raised a brow. “Well, they certainly didn’t find you at the employment agency.”
The man growled in response.
Darius raised his other brow in surprise.
“It’s alright, Sharif. I am expecting Lord Kane. Let him enter.”
A vision of beauty stood on the stairway behind them.
Serena. Dressed in flowing scarlet robes made of the finest shimmering silk. Darius knew immediately that she was naked beneath. He could tell by the way her breasts hung freely under the loose fabric, by the way it peaked over her taut nipples. The knowledge was unbearably arousing to him.
The Jackal, as Darius now thought of him, took a step back. It was just enough space for Darius to pass by, and as he did so, he saw the flat look of warning in the man’s eyes.
It said something along the lines of, “Treat the lady right, or I’ll cut you in half before you can blink.”
Considering that, in essence, Darius paid this man’s wages as well, he would have expected a little more respect instead of the open hostility with which he had been greeted. But perhaps this could be explained to the man later. Preferably when he didn’t have a wicked looking blade close at hand.
A loud squawk broke the silence, and Darius turned to see a blue and gold macaw perched in a large brass ring which stood near a tall potted palm tree in the alcove by the stairs.
The bird fixed his yellow-eyed gaze on Darius and studied him with interest.
The jackal of a butler regarded him in the same manner, albeit with more malevolence.
“You may leave us now, Sharif,” Serena said. The bowed and retreated, but not before giving Darius one last scornful glare.
“Wherever did you find the Saracen?” Darius asked. “And why does he seem to hate me so much, when I am the one paying his wages?”
Serena seemed amused by this. “Sharif comes highly recommended. He is a connection of Lady Devlyn’s. She employs him. Not you.”
“Employs him to do what, exactly?” Darius asked.
“Whatever she commands.” Serena explained. “At present, he has been commanded to protect me. He is completely loyal to her. Apparently, she saved his life once, and he has been in her service ever since.”
“He is a strange looking butler,” Darius commented. “You will need a proper one soon. You canot have that man opening the door and frightening passersby on the street. This is a good neighborhood, you know.”
Serena chuckled. “Whatever will the neighbors say when they discover that a wicked courtesan and her Saracen bodyguard have moved in next door?”
“Wicked?” Darius said flirtatiously. “And I thought you were virgin.”
Serena’s expression became shuttered, but gave nothing away. “I am. And I have saved that particular morsel for you, my lord. My precious virginity. You have paid dearly for the privilege, so tonight you will be the first, and the only man, to ever take it.”
Darius swallowed. She was arousing him already, and she was still dressed head to toe.
Lady Night had taught Serena well.
“Would you care for a light supper, my lord?” she asked, indicating the dining room behind her.
“Thank you, but no. I ate at my club.”
Serena’s clear, emerald gaze held his, heavy with meaning. “Then, shall we proceed upstairs?”
Darius felt himself grow hard at the thought. Now, he was just moments away from having Serena…and have her he would.
Finally.
Chapter 11
“One can learn many things about a man during the sexual act and its preliminaries. But most often, sex unlocks closely guarded secrets about oneself.”
–from Memoirs of a Courtesan, by Lady Night
Serena opened the door to the opulent bedroom, Darius following behind her. His footfalls on the Abyssinian carpet were practically silent, and yet she felt every move of his strong, masculine body as he entered the room.
Lady Devlyn had designed and decorated this bedroom in order to highlight its main purpose: for sex. In fact, this wasn’t Serena’s bedroom at all. The cha
mber in which she slept was down the hall, tastefully decorated in shades of pale blue and white, with books and a writing desk, as well as a comfortable feather bed with a handmade coverlet. That was a room to call her own. Lady D had explained the importance of separating one’s work from one’s life, and that a courtesan should always maintain a healthy distance between the two.
No, this room was designed for intercourse—from the rich, red velvet fabrics to the sexually explicit art on the walls. A large painting depicted a group of naked young nymphs enjoying the attentions of a well-hung minotaur, while in the far corner stood a marble statue of a couple in a very interesting position. The woman stood on her head, while the man’s member was buried to the hilt between her legs. When Serena and the rest of the Courtesan Club had first laid eyes on it, Bliss had commented that she now understood why sex could sometimes give a woman a headache.
Indeed, everything in this room had been designed to heighten sexual response and pleasure, from the red glass wall sconces to the plush velvet pillows that adorned the bed. It was Serena’s stage, now.
But was she an actress, simply playing a part? Or did she really want to be here, as Darius’s hired mistress?
The fact that Serena didn’t know the answer left a hollow feeling in her belly.
She turned to regard her protector.
This was it, then. The moment of her deflowering had arrived. She once thought Darius would claim her virginity as her husband. Now he would do it as part of their contract together. Was there really any difference?
There was no love between them now, and perhaps there never had been. She had thought herself in love, certainly. But she’d been a naïve girl, then. The thought of him making love to her had made her almost dizzy with innocent excitement.
Now she knew exactly what to expect. Soon, she would feel him there, swollen and pulsing as he pressed himself against her naked sex. Tonight Darius would take her body. He would spread her legs wide and enter her, as if it were his right to do so.
His Courtesan Bride (Brides of Mayfair 3) Page 11
