Perhaps Balfour had smashed her head so hard that she would die from the wound. A part of her wished that she would, even though she knew it was cowardly. It was a sin to wish for death. That was what her dear mother had taught her as a child.
The duke, or the monster that masqueraded as such, stared maliciously down at her. His face, no longer handsome and fair, seemed to be that of an demon. The pale eyes shone with unnatural light, the mouth twisted in a fiendish grin as he stroked her face with his slimy hand.
“Now, my dear,” he said, “we will begin your first lesson.”
Serena closed her eyes, calling on every bit of strength she possessed in order not to scream. If the duke thought she would perform for him like a trained monkey, he would be vastly disappointed. And though she would most likely pay with her life for such willfulness, Serena was determined to die with her pride intact.
Hands traveled slowly up her legs, then abruptly stopped.
She heard a noise, then a thud.
Serena kept her eyes closed, not wanting to know what preparations the deranged duke was making for this sordid scene.
Hands touched her again. Serena struggled anew, kicking with newfound strength. She made contact with hard flesh and bone, then heard a muffled oath. Someone groaned her name aloud.
That voice.
Not the duke’s.
It couldn’t be.
But it was.
“Darius?”
Serena opened her eyes, afraid she would discover that it was all a dream, afraid that she would see the duke hovering over her again with his demonic grin. Pain and confusion muddled her thoughts as she tried to make sense of what was happening to her.
She struggled to sit up and was surprised to see… Major Havelock Price.
His linen shirt was open at the neck and he wore a brown leather coat and buff-colored breeches. A pistol glinted in his hand as he moved down the length of the room toward the broken window, and the bodies that lay on the floor nearby.
“Darius?” she called again, more confused than ever.
“Down here,” came the choked reply.
Serena groaned as she slid off the table and stood shakily on her feet. “Why are you on the floor?”
Major Price called out, “You kicked him right in the ‘nethers,’ Miss Ransom. I believe you thought him to be the duke.”
“Oh dear,” Serena lamented, trying to crouch down to see the state of her unwilling victim. A wave of debilitating dizziness got the best of her, and she held onto the edge of the table as her world began to tilt. “Oh… Dear.”
Her vision blurred.
She reached out, blindly now, as her vision began to fade into a sparkling white fog.
Her hearing was gone, too.
Just a few more moments with Darius, she begged to God. She wanted to feel his strong arms about her one more time, wanted to feel his lips upon hers as he kissed her fears away.
But in a matter of moments too quick to count, Serena Ransom felt nothing at all.
Chapter 29
“Men are proud creatures. They would much rather face the worst physical pain than the terror of helplessness.”
–from Memoirs of a Courtesan, by Lady Night
Darius watched expectantly as Dr. Tomlinson examined Serena. Tomlinson lifted her limp hand and checked her pulse.
“The pulse is strong. That is a good sign.”
“When will she wake up?” Darius demanded.
Havelock had seen to Serena’s care, bringing her here to Manning House. Darius himself had only just arrived.
And now, Serena lay unconscious in his bed, looking for all the world like a lifeless doll thrown casually aside by a spoilt child. Her pale skin was white as alabaster. Her glorious auburn tresses were tangled in knots. A bluish bruise had appeared on her neck, in the shape of a man’s fingers, a mark of Balfour’s abuse.
Darius exhaled a breath. The thought made him both want to wretch up the contents of his stomach and yell in rage at Heaven above. At least Serena wouldn’t have to worry about Balfour, anymore….
Dr. Tomlinson adjusted his spectacles and regarded his old comrade. “It is impossible to say, I’m afraid. She may awaken in an hour, or a day. She may never awaken at all.”
Darius made a fist and struck his thigh in frustration.
“I cannot make light of Miss Ransom’s unconscious condition,” Tomlinson continued. “Injuries involving the head are still a mystery to medical science. It may be quite serious, or only slightly so. We can only watch and wait. And pray, of course.” He packed up his medical bag and made to leave. “Keep her comfortable. If she wakes, summon me at once. I will need to examine her again.”
“I’ll see you out, doctor,” Havelock offered, sensing that Darius wanted to be alone with his mistress.
That was one of the things Darius appreciated about Havelock. They’d been friends for so many years, they could practically read each other’s minds.
Darius might have given a nod as the men prepared to leave, but his mind was in such a whirl, he couldn’t say for certain. All he could do was to stare at the wounded woman in his bed, and fight against the searing terror that threatened to consume him like tinder-set flame.
Slowly, forcing his feet to carry him to where she lay helpless and inert, Darius went to Serena’s bedside. He moved like an old man, and in truth, he felt as if he had aged decades in only a few hideous moments.
Storming into Balfour’s billiard room, he had been confronted with one of the most horrific scenes he had ever witnessed. And he had seen much during the war. Very much, indeed.
Still, none of it compared to the sight of the woman he loved being pinned down to a game table, the form of a man hunching over her and only seconds away from committing a vile assault upon her.
In truth, Darius’s mind had gone blank for a moment. His thinking brain had shut down, as the animal in him came to the fore. Instinct had propelled him forward at lightning speed. White-hot rage had given him the strength of ten men, or so it had felt. He’d ripped Balfour away from Serena’s body and thrown him across the room as if the man weighed no more than a feather.
One of the duke’s associates, Lord Dudley, came to and struggled to get to his feet, but Havelock pounced with lightning speed. As Havelock practiced his pugilistic skills on the duke’s hapless partner, Darius set about subduing Balfour. A few well-placed blows, including a teeth-shattering uppercut to the chin, rendered his old enemy unconscious.
Which was exactly how Darius wanted him until he was ready to dispense justice.
Darius had rushed to Serena’s side, trying to help her up off the table. In her fear and confusion, she had blindly kicked at her rescuer, landing a vicious blow to the groin which had brought him to his knees.
Moments later, she was crouching next to Darius, then fainted in an unconscious heap.
That was hours ago, and she still hadn’t regained consciousness.
Darius sat in the leather wing chair beside the bed, reaching to take her limp hand in his. Her skin was cool to the touch. A bluish tinge colored her fingernails. He pulled the covers snugly about her, trying to make her warm. The room itself was toasty, a comforting fire blazing in the hearth. And yet, it seemed to make no difference to the sleeping woman beside him. Was death wrapping her in its cold clutches, even now?
As he turned over Serena’s hand and studied the lines of her palm, Darius realized that he had never in his life felt true terror until now.
Not even during his first battle in the Peninsula at Vimeiro, when the bullets had buzzed past him like a cloud of angry insects. Not even when he’d discovered Henrietta’s lifeless body on the flagstones. Not even when he’d been told about the unborn child he had also lost that day.
He had felt other emotions at those times, certainly—moments of fear and confusion during a battle, shock and disbelief at Henrietta’s death, grief at the loss of the baby.
But never the helplessness of terror.
He was becoming well-acquainted with it now.
And all because of this amazing, exquisite, unforgettable woman beside him.
Serena Ransom.
His unforgettable courtesan.
She had driven him to the heights of desire, teased him, enslaved him with her mastery of sensual techniques. She had infuriated him, amused him, mystified him. She had effortlessly played the role of exotic mistress, dazzling him with inventive bedplay, constantly upping the stakes in their passionate game.
Serena had given him the prize of her virginity. As she had shared her body with him, Darius had glimpsed the unforgettable splendor of her soul. Like a fiery sunset one can behold, but never touch, Darius had been enthralled by its brilliance. He wanted to bear witness to such elemental beauty, day after day, for the rest of his life.
Regret stabbed at him, the wasted moments of the last forty-eight hours taunting him like schoolyard bullies. He should never have left her at Manning Park, as he did. Foolish pride had gotten the best of him. He’d acted like a child, not a man. And now, the woman he loved more than life itself might die because of it.
Serena’s rejection had stunned Darius with its slicing pain. It had felt as if she’d cut out his heart. And Darius, in his shocked stupor, could only stand there and watch as she tore the pulsing organ out and placed it upon a platter, naked and vulnerable, for him to see. This emotional bloodletting had followed fast on the heels of their most heartfelt night together. Cruelly, it had only managed to intensify the torture.
The searing pain in his heart had turned to numbness, the numbness to denial, and the denial to anger. Like a wounded bull, he had bucked and kicked at whatever was near to him.
Serena.
He’d wanted his beautiful mistress to suffer as he was suffering. Well, he had gotten his wish. She had suffered most cruelly at the hands of the Duke of Balfour.
From their years fighting Napoleon in the Peninsula, Darius had known Balfour to be a bad soldier. He and Havelock had taken an immediate dislike to the man upon meeting him, which had only gotten worse the more they served with him. He was unskilled, ill-prepared to lead, and could never admit when he was wrong. His stupid mistakes had cost good soldiers their lives on more than one occasion—errors which Balfour always blamed on others instead of himself. But Darius had not known how darkly twisted the duke was until today.
The thought that Serena had spent even one second being terrorized by such a monster made Darius’ heart seize with pain.
He lifted her lifeless hand to his lips, placing a reverent kiss there. With his other hand, he smoothed back wisps of auburn hair from her cool forehead.
“Come back to me,” he whispered, desperately.
He slid out of the chair, and got on his knees. He knew of nothing else to offer Heaven than his complete surrender. Darius pressed her limp hand to his cheek, taking a shaky breath as he gazed at Serena’s pale, drawn face.
“Come back to me. Please come back.” He repeated the words over and over, as if trying to cast a spell upon the sleeping beauty before him.
He couldn’t lose her.
Not now.
Fate would not be so cruel.
Would it?
Darius took a deep, shaky breath as he rode out another wave of panic at the thought of a future without Serena by his side.
His throat burned with unshed tears.
Then, suddenly helpless against the raging emotions inside him, Darius closed his eyes and rubbed them, as they had somehow grown wet.
* * *
Serena dreamed.
Even while deep in its midst, a part of her knew that this was unlike any other dream she’d ever had. The sensations were so intense, she felt as if she were drugged with some magical potion that gave her wings to fly.
Bright yellow sunshine blazed down upon her. Birds chirped sweetly in the grass. A warm breeze caressed her skin like tender, comforting hands.
She sat beside a gurgling brook, resting her weight on one hand as she gazed about at the natural splendor. All at once, she recognized her surroundings.
Manning Park in early summer.
That fact seemed curious, as she had never been there at that time of year.
Dreams were strange things.
Serena watched aimlessly as the water danced over slick, grey rocks in the brook. A little green frog hopped by. A bee buzzed on its way to a flower.
Time seemed to stop, and yet, she felt that she’d been sitting there for hours, days even.
Aside from the amiable insects, birds and other creatures of the meadow, Serena was completely alone. She felt it in her bones. She could get up and walk for miles, and she would encounter no one. For no one was there except for her.
She gazed about at the surrounding landscape, breathless with admiration of its beauty. It looked like a painting which she had somehow entered.
It was nice, here.
Quiet and comfortable.
She could stay forever, if she chose. All she had to do was lie back in the grass and close her eyes. She could sleep if she wanted, or just gaze at the fluffy white clouds above.
It was a fine existence, Serena supposed. And yet, she felt something was missing. Something important. All was not right, here, as she had first thought.
A pain began to tingle in her chest. The sensation seemed so foreign to her, and yet, she knew she had simply forgotten about it somehow. The pain intensified with each breath. Something was tugging at her heart, as if pulling on a string.
She sat forward suddenly, pressing at her breast with her hand, trying in vain to stop the pain that ached there. But it was useless. She realized too late that she was not in control here. Something else was sweeping her along in its powerful current toward an unknown destination.
Images swirled in her mind, memories, sensations—some terrifying in their intensity, some heartbreakingly beautiful. They were all tied together, like a puzzle one could never solve. Yet something inside her understood that it was never meant to be solved. The ever-changing pieces would always fit together somehow, no matter what. One simply had to keep rearranging them.
But she was still forgetting something. She wanted to remember, needed to remember. The pain in her chest made her double over in agony.
Then, she saw him.
Darius.
Standing in the distance.
Waiting for her.
She reached for him, but he was too far away.
Then, she felt herself falling as if from a great height, and braced herself for impact.
Chapter 30
“Love can be a blessing or a curse; those with a weak countenance should avoid it at all costs. But for those brave enough to taste its unforgettable splendor, life will never be the same.”
–from Memoirs of a Courtesan, by Lady Night
Serena’s eyes slowly fluttered open. She winced as a terrible pain suffused the back of her head. She felt as if she’d been kicked by a horse.
Then she remembered the Duke of Balfour looming over her, smashing her head against the billiard table and attempting to ravish her.
She decided quite easily that she would have preferred the kick from the horse.
She blinked a few times, trying to focus on her surroundings. She was in Darius’s bedchamber, tucked into the big four-poster bed like a child. The room smelled like him—a heady mix of masculinity, spicy shaving soap and crisp linen. Serena inhaled a deep breath and felt immediately comforted.
“Sleeping Beauty has awakened, I see.”
Serena turned toward the voice. It belonged to a man lounging in a wing chair near the bed.
It wasn’t Darius, but his friend, Major Havelock Price. He was dutifully sitting vigil next to her.
“How long have I been asleep?” she managed to croak. Her throat felt dry as paper.
“A day and a half,” Major Price answered, pouring a glass of water and tipping her head to wet her lips.
The news was shocking to Serena. She t
ried to sit up, but felt weak. The action made her head pound anew.
“I’m no doctor, but I think you should lie back, Miss Ransom,” he said. “You’ve suffered a concussion, quite a serious one. I daresay you are not out of the woods, yet.”
Serena did as Major Price bid her. She had to admit, it felt better to lie down than try and sit up at the moment. “Where is Darius?”
“Right now? Breakfasting with the Duke of Wellington, I imagine,” he replied.
“Whatever for?” Serena asked.
“I believe Darius is calling in a favor,” Major Price explained. “Certainly, Nosey owes us both a great deal for our exemplary service in the Peninsula. But I don’t like to call attention to it.” He grinned conspiratorially.
More memories came flooding back to Serena, frightening images that danced about her in a dark, hazy fog. “What happened after I passed out? Sharif, is he—?”
“Dead? No, my dear, quite the opposite” he answered. “I am happy to report that your bodyguard is convalescing at Lady Devlyn’s residence. The man is built like a mountain. Dr. Tomlinson expects him to make a full recovery.”
Serena closed her eyes as relief surged through her. She silently offered a prayer in thanks.
“What about the duke?” she asked, her skin crawling as she remembered the sensation of his slimy fingers upon her.
“Do you really want to know?” Major Price quirked a brow, looking as if he was dying to share the salacious details.
“I must know, major,” she asserted.
“After His Grace, the illustrious Duke of Balfour, finally regained consciousness, Darius beat him with a bag of billiard balls,” Major Price said, proudly.
Serena’s hand flew to cover her gaping mouth. “Darius tried to kill him?”
“No, no,” he answered. “Certainly not. Killing would be too good for that swine. Balfour is not dead. Though he may spend the rest of his life wishing he was. You see, where his nose used to be hereabouts,” he pointed at the center of his face, “it is now thereabouts.” Price indicated a spot off to the side. “And his jaw…well, it will be a miracle if it ever closes properly again.”
His Courtesan Bride (Brides of Mayfair 3) Page 26
