It was both frightening and wonderful, all at once.
Darius traced a finger over the bodice of her dress, looking down at her with an expression of profound desire. A sweet ache spread throughout Serena’s body, unlike anything she had ever felt before. This was more than just lust or physical passion. It seemed that every inch of her body was sweetly aroused by his caress.
She relaxed back into the pillow. “Oh, Darius….”
His hands, usually in a hurry to get her out of her clothes, instead caressed her body slowly, over the thin fabric of her dress. It was almost more arousing then if he’d been touching her bare skin.
She reached out to do the same to Darius, running her hands gently over his muscled back and buttocks. His clothing seemed to magnify the strength of his body, as if it were a wonder that mere threads could contain him.
She reached up to cradle his face intimately in her hands, stroking the rough, masculine skin of his cheek, before pulling him down for a tender kiss.
Darius moaned inwardly, burying his hands in her hair. He rolled his large body on top of hers, holding himself above her so that his weight was on his forearms. When he pressed his sex against hers, it felt so right, so good. It was completely unlike the wicked games they usually played together in the bedroom.
Reaching a hand beneath her back, Darius gently lifted her to a sitting position. He began to undress her as if she were as delicate as a porcelain doll. When he was finished, he lay her gently back down on the quilt. Serena closed her eyes, reveling in the sensation of being so cherished, so cared for by this man.
Who would have predicted that such tender desire could outdo a courtesan’s practiced skills of passion? She had never been so fully or sweetly aroused before. As Darius pressed his lips to the naked skin of her belly, a soft moan escaped from the back of Serena’s throat.
She felt an overwhelming need to feel his hard erection inside of her, as if that were the only thing in the world which could make her complete. Her hands found the fastenings of his trousers and undid them, sliding inside to touch his warm, hard shaft.
“Let me make love to you, darling,” he breathed.
“I’ve never wanted anything so badly in my life.”
He reached down to slide his trousers down, then pulled himself away from her to shuck off his linen shirt. They were both naked, now—physically and emotionally.
Serena had never felt so free.
His hand dipped between her legs, to see if she was ready for him.
Serena was more than ready. “Please, Darius. I ache for you. I need you inside me.”
He smiled down at her, tracing a finger along her face. “I ache for you too, darling. More than I ever have before. I never knew such sweet torture was possible. You have brought me to the heights of desire. Now, you bring me to the gates of Heaven.”
He pressed his mouth to hers as he positioned himself at her opening. Slowly, ever-so-gently, he buried the length of his shaft within her.
Serena closed her eyes in rapture. Surely, she had never felt this good, weightless as a feather floating on a soft, warm breeze. Her entire body suffused with warmth as she wrapped her legs around Darius’s waist. A part of her mind—the well-trained courtesan part—tried to summon the name of this position from the Kama Sutra. But the other part of her mind realized that she didn’t give a fig what it was called. It simply felt wonderful to be joined to her lover this way, as if they were one body instead of two.
She had never felt so gloriously united with Darius before. Fleeting images of angels danced in her mind. She kept thinking of Adam and Eve, and Adam fashioning his rib into a woman. That was how she felt right now, as if Darius had created her from a part of himself. With him, she felt whole, the depth of which she had never felt before with any living soul.
Serena sighed, as if her very womb ached for the essence him, for his hot, powerful seed. She wanted to feel him pulse within her when he came. The very thought of it intensified her arousal to a mind-numbing heat.
She felt as if she were drugged, or somewhere between sleep and waking. The sensations were dreamlike. One moment she felt as if she were floating in shallow water, being effortlessly buoyed by the tide. The next, she felt as if her veins had turned to liquid gold, slowly shimmering in exquisite yearning.
Darius reached down between them and with the pad of his thumb, began to rub gently at the throbbing pearl of Serena’s sex. She moaned anew, pressing her head back into the pillow as she allowed him full access to the most private places of her body.
“I love you, Serena,” Darius whispered. “I always have.”
Serena felt exquisite passion building deep inside her. Hot, sweet tremors rocked within her, originating in her very womb. She clutched at Darius as she held on for dear life, as pure sensation consumed her. “I love you, too, Darius,” she heard herself say, as if from a far distance.
Darius curled an arm around her waist as he thrust himself deep, groaning in ecstasy as he climaxed. Serena clutched her legs around him tight as she felt him explode within her, setting off yet more waves of sweet pleasure deep inside her throbbing womb.
Then, Darius pulled out and rolled to the side, wrapping his arms about her as he cradled Serena spoon fashion. In moments too quick to count, they were both fast asleep.
Chapter 22
“Sometimes, removing oneself from the company of a protector is much like removing a splinter from skin; the process is somewhat painful, but in the end, the only sensible option.”
–from Memoirs of a Courtesan, by Lady Night
Serena lay awake in bed, the soft, warm quilt pulled up around her neck to stave off the early morning chill.
She had never felt so physically satisfied. Or more emotionally fragile.
Last night with Darius had been like a dream, the culmination of her secret heart’s desire since the first moment she’d met him. They had made love. Gloriously, wonderfully, and oh-so-tenderly. And as they worshipped each other this way, more than their bodies had united. Their souls had joined as well.
It was a most incredible feeling.
Even now, as Darius tended to his duties about the estate, Serena seemed to feel his every movement tugging on her heart. It was as if they were somehow connected by an invisible cord, attached by pure emotion.
And it simply wouldn’t do.
Lady Devlyn had warned her students about this very thing—how the last days with a protector could be the most emotional of the entire association. Was it the ticking of the clock that made it so? The knowledge that they possessed only a handful of days left together, which heightened such feelings and blew them out of proportion?
No, Serena knew that with her and Darius, there was much more to it than simple drama. The revelation of the pain he’d been through, and the terrible price Henrietta had exacted from him had changed everything. For the first time, Serena had become acutely aware of Darius not just as her protector, but as a person with a heart and soul, just like her. A person who’d had his own share of tragedy to deal with. A man who had sold himself to the highest bidder in order to save his family from ruin, much as she had sold herself to him.
Darius had played the role of rakish earl almost as well as she had played the role of haughty courtesan, both impervious to the frailties of emotion. But that’s all it had been: play-acting. Last night, they bared their souls to each other. It had elevated their lovemaking to even greater heights, resulting in the most memorable night they had ever experienced.
And yet, their newfound unity was a double-edged sword. Life was filled with a strange duality of light and dark, beauty and ugliness, joy and pain.
Last night, Serena had allowed Darius to penetrate her heart as well as her body. When Cupid’s arrow penetrated your skin, it could hurt a bit. Like a splinter, it hurt even more when you attempted to pull it out.
That was what Serena feared. And yet, she couldn’t leave the piercing splinter of Darius’s love under her skin, to f
ester and worsen with time. As surely, it would.
Lady Devlyn had devoted the last part of her courtesan lessons to this very subject.
Love.
Worse than fading beauty, worse than disease or pregnancy, love could end a courtesan’s career in a heartbeat. If there was but one golden rule in Serena’s profession, it was to never fall in love with one’s protector. Only pain and suffering could come of it.
Lady D had told them a tragic tale of a courtesan she had once known who’d fallen victim to her own emotions, and ended her days alone, in financial ruin.
Lady Barrow had once been the beautiful mistress to a handsome marquess, who had kept her exclusively employed for a number of years. Over the course of their association, Lady Barrow had fallen in love with the man, and as Lady D told it, he with her. They shared wonderful times together. Until one day, his ardor cooled.
She had grown old.
In truth, they had grown old together, like an old married couple, but the marquess did not see this as an attribute in a mistress. For the first time in almost a decade, he did not renew his courtesan’s contract. Instead, he chose to employ someone younger, someone without any wrinkles or streaks of grey in her hair. Someone who did not know him quite so well.
Lady Barrow had been devastated, both emotionally and financially. For though the marquess had given his mistress compensation for her company, each year it had been less and less. She had not minded, for she had been in love. Simply being with her dashing protector—her soul-mate, as she believed him to be—was reward enough.
The elegant townhouse which had been her home during their liaison had never been deeded to her. One day the marquess asked her to vacate the premises, so he could install his new mistress there. Lady Barrow found herself suddenly homeless. The monthly allowance he had given her had been spent on her wardrobe—the marquess liked to see her in the latest fashions—and for household expenses such as staff wages, food, and horses. At the end of it all, save for a few items of jewelry, there was nothing left.
At the advanced age of forty-one, Lady Barrow could no longer compete in the marketplace as a mistress. Not that she would have wanted to. She had become so accustomed to the marquess as a bed-mate, that the thought of letting another man touch her had grown distasteful.
She lived off the proceeds of her jewelry for almost a full year until her funds ran out. Then followed sickness, poverty, and despair. Lady Barrow ended her days in a moldy rooming house in Cheapside, with only the rats to watch her breathe her last.
All in the name of love.
It was an important lesson, one which Serena forced herself to remember. Like a beautiful exotic flower, love could dazzle and impress you with its vivid color and heady fragrance. But it was doomed to one day wither and die, and crumble to the ground like dust.
Serena did not wish to bear witness to such a thing. The very thought of one day ending up like Lady Barrow made Serena’s chest tighten with anxiety. She rubbed it with the flat of her palm, as if that could make the unsettling feeling go away.
Tired of laying abed, indulging in such maudlin thoughts, Serena flung the quilt back and set about her morning ablutions. After she washed and dressed—she chose a dark grey muslin dress sprigged with sky blue—she went downstairs to the larder. A buttermilk biscuit and a cup of steaming tea made a quaint country breakfast. She realized painfully that she was going to miss this homey little cottage very much indeed.
Soon her breakfasts would be quite different. She would go back to taking them in the breakfast room of her London townhouse, but instead of looking across the table to see Darius sipping his coffee and reading the Times, she would see the Duke of Balfour. It seemed impossible. And yet, the countdown had already begun.
Even if Darius wanted to extend her contract, he couldn’t. She had signed the papers. Her contract with the duke would be in force two days from now. She took a deep breath, struggling to make her mind accept it.
This was the life of a courtesan. She had known that when she took up the vocation. Then why was her heart bucking against her like a stubborn stallion?
Serena grabbed her plaid wool shawl from its hook near the door. With an angry movement, as if the shawl were to blame for everything, she swept it around her shoulders and stalked outside into the yard. The air had grown cooler in the past few days. She would probably freeze out here. And yet, in a perverse way, she welcomed such discomfort. It would take her mind off the tension that tortured her soul.
A walk would do her good. It would keep her mind off her unsettled emotions and allow her to regain some much-needed control.
She set out down the little path at a brisk pace, heading toward the main grounds. Breathing in the clean, crisp air, Serena took in the vast surroundings of Manning Park. Vividly colored autumn leaves danced in the breeze, dazzling against the bright blue sky. Fallen leaves crackled beneath her boots as she walked, releasing a comforting, earthy aroma which lifted Serena’s spirits a little. Autumn was her favorite season. The myriad colors of the leaves never failed to amaze her, each one a masterpiece of nature.
She spotted a folly beside the lake, a short distance off the path. Shaped like a small round temple, the brilliant white stone made a welcoming picture in the surrounding landscape. The structure was completely open to the air and only provided shelter from rain or sun. But there was a bench inside upon which one could sit and enjoy a lovely view of the lake. Yes, that would soothe her troubled heart.
As Serena neared the temple, she was startled to see another party approaching from beyond a boxlike hedgerow.
A silver-haired woman of regal bearing strolled along the path, with a maid accompanying her. The lady wore a walking dress of deep plum with black trim, complete with matching bonnet and gloves.
Though Serena had never set eyes on the woman before, she knew it could be only one person—the Dowager Countess of Kane.
Darius’s mother.
The woman stopped dead in her tracks, having spied Serena on the path before her. She raised her quizzing glass and peered at Serena from where she stood. Her eyes, which were as icy-blue as Darius’s, narrowed into a scowl. Without even looking at her maid, she commanded, “Go back and wait for me by the hedgerow, Gosling. This won’t take long.”
The young woman looked confused, but quickly curtsied. “Yes, my lady.” She hurried off back in the direction from whence they came.
Serena had no idea what was coming, but instinct told her it was not good. She stood tall and prepared herself for battle.
“So, you are the little whore who has my son wrapped around her finger,” Lady Kane said.
Serena stiffened at the woman’s hostile words. “I am a courtesan, ma’am. There is a difference.”
Lady Kane waved her gloved hand dismissively. “There is no difference, and even if there were, I shall not stoop so low as to debate the point with you.”
Serena took a deep breath, vowing to control her temper in this woman’s presence.
Lady Kane approached Serena, looking her up and down, as if she were appraising goods in a shop. “I have heard much about you, Miss Ransom, which unfortunately for any self-respecting noblewoman, would be too much. Looking upon your person—your shabby clothes and unruly hair—I wonder how a woman of your vocation keeps herself employed. I had heard that the Telford Whore was quite a beauty. But you are nothing to sneeze at. Quite uninspiring.”
She circled Serena slowly, studying her through the quizzing glass. “You are not the first woman my son has brought to the cottage, you know. And I daresay you won’t be the last.”
Serena’s throat tightened painfully at Lady Kane’s words. Though why it should bother her was a mystery. In a few days, she would leave Darius to be with another man.
Lady Kane turned abruptly, her eyes blazing contemptuously at Serena. “How much have you taken him for?”
“I beg your pardon?” Serena said.
“The money, the jewels?” Lady Kane demanded
. “How much have you stolen from my son?”
Now it was Serena’s turn to narrow her gaze. “I have stolen nothing from Lord Kane, and I resent the accusation.”
“Resent it if you will,” Lady Kane replied. “But I want to know how much of our fortune he’s frittered away on you.”
“Your fortune?” Serena asked incredulously. “Until a little over a year ago it was Miss Barton’s—hers and her father’s. If that isn’t stealing I don’t know what is.”
Lady Kane gasped, standing back. “How dare you!”
“How dare I? You are the one who pressured your son into marrying for money. My God, Darius prostituted himself for you!” Serena paraphrased Chaucer: “‘Those that live in glass houses should not throw stones,’ Lady Kane. And if it were not for Darius putting aside his own hopes and dreams, the only house you would be living in, madam, would be the tenant’s down the lane.”
Lady Kane’s face turned white with rage. “You vile creature!”
“The truth is often vile,” Serena continued. “Or ugly or terrifying. Because we cannot control it. And no matter how hard we try to ignore it, the truth remains. Perhaps you should take a few moments to meditate upon that fact. I bid you good-day.”
Serena turned her back on the Dowager Countess of Kane and walked away.
“Come back here, you ungrateful little strumpet!” Lady Kane called behind her. “I am not finished with you!”
Serena kept walking, ignoring the ranting woman on the path behind her. “But I am most certainly finished with you,” Serena muttered under her breath.
She would go home to the little cottage, make herself a pot of tea, and read in the window seat until Darius arrived.
As she neared the place she had called home for almost three weeks, she sighed in relief. She could almost smell the comforting Ceylon tea wafting up to tease her nose as it steeped.
Serena pushed open the front door and walked inside the little foyer. Almost immediately, she sensed that something was wrong, somehow. Tension hung in the air like a breath of smoke.
His Courtesan Bride (Brides of Mayfair 3) Page 21
