Beauty and the Brooding Lord

by Sarah Mallory

  ‘I take it my wife has apprised you of everything?’ Quinn dropped into a chair opposite them. ‘Including how we met?’

  ‘It was necessary, if I was to make sense of it all,’ said Russ. ‘I pray you will not be angry with her.’

  ‘On the contrary, I am glad of it. I have never liked prevarication.’

  ‘Good.’ Russ grinned. ‘I always suspected the explanation Henry sent me at the time of your marriage was not the whole truth, but at that point I was not in any position to post south and find out for myself.’

  ‘Ah, yes.’ Quinn nodded. ‘I trust your wife and the baby are now going on well?’

  ‘They are, I thank you. I was telling Serena that Molly has invited you both to come and stay. Immediately if you wish.’

  ‘While the gossip dies down, you mean?’ Quinn finished his wine and got up to recharge the glasses. ‘If it becomes unbearable we may well do that, but my instinct is to ride it out.’

  ‘That is just what I said,’ Serena put in, showing more fire than Quinn had seen before. ‘I do not see why we should run away because of Sir Timothy, the little toad. But we will come north soon, Russ. I am longing to see baby Emma, and little Charles, of course. Why, he must be three years old by now.’

  Quinn was happy to let the conversation move on, and when Serena asked Russ to stay for dinner he quickly added his voice to the invitation. He said very little during the meal, taking pleasure in the way Serena chattered happily to her half-brother. At one point she threw her head back and laughed, a full-throated, delightful sound that caught at his chest. This was Serena as she was meant to be. As he wanted her to be, not anxiously worrying over what the world might say.

  At length Serena rose from her chair, saying she would leave the gentlemen to their brandy.

  ‘But not too long,’ she warned him. ‘I expect to see you both in the drawing room well before the tea tray is brought in.’

  ‘You have my word on it,’ replied Quinn, his mouth twisting into a grin. ‘Now, off you go, baggage!’

  The twinkle in her eyes told him she was not at all offended by this style of address and his grin widened as he watched her glide out of the room.

  ‘You appear to be very fond of my half-sister.’

  ‘I am.’ Quinn turned back to his guest. ‘Your visit has made her the happiest she has been since our return to town.’

  ‘The gossip is that bad, then?’

  ‘Aye.’ Quinn scowled as he poured brandy for himself and his guest. ‘Some of the town tabbies have very long memories.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Russ. ‘They have raked up stories about Eleanor, I suppose. Serena’s mother.’

  ‘Yes. I must have heard something of it at the time,’ said Quinn, ‘but around that time I had my own troubles. Was she as bad as they say?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Russington stared moodily into his glass. ‘Eleanor married my father for his fortune. She was very charming to Henry and me until the knot was safely tied, then she ignored us, and once Serena was born she was left in the care of nurses and governesses. Eleanor craved company. When Father died, she lost no time in finding herself another rich husband.’ His mouth twisted. ‘Conte Ragussina, a handsome Italian with deep pockets and a nature as restless as her own. She ran off within months of my father’s death, and was married before the year was out.’

  ‘And Serena?’ Quinn prompted him.

  ‘Left to learn of her mother’s defection from her governess. She was not quite nine years old.’

  ‘Poor Serena.’

  ‘Poor Serena indeed,’ muttered Russ, taking a long pull at the brandy. ‘She should have gone to live with Hambridge, but Dorothea wouldn’t have her. Serena was sent to a succession of establishments, seminaries, academies for young ladies—not that she ever settled at any of them. My own dear Molly has proved as good a friend and guide as anyone. I regret now that we did not take her north with us when we married, but Henry insisted she must have her come-out. And what a mull he and Dorothea have made of it.’ He looked up suddenly. ‘Your marriage to my sister seems to be the best thing that has happened to her. And it was none of Henry’s doing, I’ll wager.’

  ‘Not at all,’ replied Quinn, unruffled.

  Russ frowned. ‘They should be here, supporting Serena, not hiding at Worthing.’

  Quinn refilled his glass and pushed the decanter across the table. ‘It doesn’t help that Forsbrook is enacting the broken-hearted suitor. If I call him out the gossip will only intensify, yet while he is in town Serena cannot be at ease. I am tempted to have him abducted and pressed into service on one of his Majesty’s frigates.’

  Russ sat back in his chair. ‘Oh, I don’t think you need do that,’ he drawled. ‘I have a plan, which I hope will do the trick as far as Sir Timothy Forsbrook is concerned.’

  * * *

  Serena looked towards the door as she heard voices in the hall and moments later the gentlemen came in. The room seemed to shrink upon their entry, for they were both big men. Her half-brother was tall, but Quinn was a few inches taller, his broad shoulders and muscular body making even Russ’s athletic frame look slender. Quinn was not conventionally handsome, with his craggy features, his crooked smile and not quite straight nose, but over the past few months she had come to regard him as the most attractive man of her acquaintance. She was shaken to realise how much he now meant to her.

  Quinn was smiling at something Russ had said and Serena was pleased the two men were getting on so well.

  ‘There is great sport to be had in Yorkshire,’ remarked Russ. ‘As you will see when you visit.’

  ‘And we shall, as soon as our business in town is finished,’ said Quinn. ‘I cannot think it will take too much longer now.’

  A glance passed between the two gentlemen, but Serena was distracted by the arrival of the tea tray and thought no more about it.

  * * *

  It was midnight before Russ rose to take his leave.

  ‘Will we see you tomorrow?’ asked Serena, walking with him to the door. ‘Perhaps I might take you for a drive in the park. Quinn has bought me a new phaeton and the prettiest pair of match bays to pull it. I venture to think you would not be ashamed to be seen with me.’

  ‘I should never be ashamed to be seen with you,’ he told her, smiling. ‘Unfortunately, I have another engagement tomorrow and must then return to the north. This was only ever going to be a fleeting visit.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘Bring this showy equipage with you when you come north and you can drive Molly in style around Compton Parva!’

  With that he was gone.

  ‘I was very pleased to see Russ,’ said Serena, when Quinn escorted her upstairs to her bedchamber soon after. ‘I was glad, too, that you liked him.’

  ‘He is very different from his brother.’

  ‘He is indeed. Russ has always been my favourite. That is why I thought—’ She broke off, flushing.

  ‘Why you thought a rake would make a good husband?’ Quinn finished for her. Serena bowed her head, too mortified to respond and Quinn laughed softly. ‘Goodnight, Serena.’

  She watched him walk away, heard his firm tread going back down the stairs and misery cut through her like a knife. They had been getting on so well and she had ruined everything.

  * * *

  Serena entered the bedchamber, closing the door with a snap that made Polly jump out of her chair.

  ‘Good evening, ma’am. I have your nightshift all ready for you.’

  Serena looked at the garment laid out on the bed. It was made of the finest linen and decorated with mother-of-pearl buttons and exquisite Brussels lace. It had been vastly expensive, Dorothea insisting that a man of Lord Quinn’s wealth would expect to his wife to wear only the best.

  Serena thought of the painting of Venus with a Mirror that was now hanging in the library at Melham, the Titian she had seen that fi
rst morning. Quinn might find the naked form much more alluring than being covered neck to toe. Her mouth dried at the thought, but a sudden excitement fizzed through her blood like champagne. There was only one way to find out.

  * * *

  Somewhere in the house a clock chimed the hour. Serena paced her room and pulled the wrap closer, not so much from cold as nerves. The excitement and determination she had felt earlier had evaporated and if Quinn did not go to bed soon then she would not have the nerve to go through with this. Then she heard it. The firm tread along the passage, the rumble of voices from the next room that told her Quinn was in there with his valet.

  She retreated to the bed and sat down on the edge, pleating the skirts of the raspberry silk between her fingers. When she heard the soft pad of Shere’s feet in the passage she moved again towards the connecting door and pressed her ear against the panel. Silence. Perhaps Quinn had drunk too much brandy and was already asleep. She moved to the long mirror to rearrange the thin robe. The red silk, almost black in the candlelight, was wrapped snugly around her and tied with a single ribbon under the breast. Apart from her hair, which she had brushed out and left to fall loose down her back, she looked perfectly respectable. Until she moved, when the front edges of the robe fell away to reveal the nakedness beneath.

  ‘If he is indifferent to me now,’ she whispered, ‘then I shall never try again.’

  Straightening her shoulders, Serena crossed to the connecting door. It opened silently and she saw that Quinn was in bed, propped up against the bank of snowy pillows, reading. The shadows from the single candle enhanced the rippling contours of his bare chest and shoulders.

  He did not notice her at first. She took another, tentative step into the room and he looked up. Serena was watching him closely, his face registered surprise, but not displeasure. He threw back the covers and slipped to the floor. In one fluid movement he pulled the banyan from the end of the bed and shrugged himself into it, but not before Serena glimpsed his athletic form, wide shoulders and deep chest, narrow hips and strongly muscled thighs. There was a shield of dark hair on his chest. It arrowed downwards over the tight, flat stomach. She recalled the sketches and paintings Henry had shown her of statues he had seen on his grand tour.

  A Greek god, she thought wildly. He is built like a Greek god!

  It was not the smooth, boyishness of Michelangelo’s David, but a much more adult, muscled figure. A warrior. A champion.

  ‘Did you want me?’ There was a hint of amusement in his deep voice.

  Serena forced her eyes back to his face. Nervously she ran her tongue over her lips.

  Oh, yes, I want you!

  Her cheeks burned.

  ‘I—’ She swallowed, trying to force the words from a throat that felt too tight.

  Smiling, he leaned back against the edge of the bed and held out his hands. ‘Come here.’

  Slowly she moved towards him, trying not to think of the way her own robe parted as she walked, displaying a leg from toe to thigh. He was her husband. Who else should see her thus? She wanted him to see her. Besides, he had seen her naked before, when he had helped her from the bath. Her step faltered as the black terror of those memories resurfaced.

  ‘I c-can’t—’

  Quinn reached out and took her hands. She clung to him, as if she was drowning, and he pulled her close.

  ‘Come and sit with me.’

  He guided her to a large chest with a padded top that was placed at the end of the bed. Very little light from the single candle reached this far, but even so her hands clutched at the edges of the robe, pulling them together as she sat down beside him. He made no attempt to stop her, merely keeping one arm about her. His forbearance was too much. She gave a little sob and buried her face in his shoulder.

  ‘I thought I could do this,’ she mumbled as her tears soaked his silk banyan. ‘I beg your pardon, Quinn. I have failed you.’

  ‘No, no.’ He cradled her cheek and gently turned her face up towards his. He said softly, ‘Now, what is it that frightens you?’ She glanced past him. ‘Ah, of course. The bed.’

  She nodded and hid her face in his shoulder again. ‘The shadows. He held me down. At the inn. He threw me down and t-tried to...’ She shivered and his arm tightened around her, holding her firm, giving her courage. Her fingers clutched at his dressing gown. ‘I want to please you, Quinn. I w-want to be your wife in more than name.’

  ‘And so you shall be, Serena, in time. We need not rush this.’

  She relaxed against him, sighing.

  ‘Will you...?’ She took a breath and looked up at him. ‘Would you kiss me, please?’

  Even in the shadows she saw his eyes gleam. ‘It would be a pleasure.’

  He pulled her to him, one hand about her neck as he lowered his head and captured her lips. He kissed her slowly at first, gently, until she began to respond. He teased her lips apart, his tongue exploring her mouth. She yielded, her body softening, melting against him as his hand caressed her neck, easing away her tension.

  His mouth moved, light as a feather, along her jaw. She put back her head, closing her eyes as he continued those delicate, tantalising kisses along her neck. He tugged at the ribbon tie of her wrap and she felt the satin sliding away. Her body tensed when he stroked her breast but she did not flinch away, rather she pushed herself against him. His thumb began to circle the tip, oh, so slowly, then his mouth closed over its fellow and Serena gave a little cry. Heat shafted through her blood from her breasts to somewhere deep between her thighs, into an aching pool of desire.

  He stilled and she clutched at him, begging him to go on. With a soft laugh he teased one hard nub with his thumb and forefinger while his teeth caught the other. Serena’s body pulsed and shuddered beneath the onslaught. She had slipped to the edge of the seat, her body instinctively arching towards Quinn. When she opened her eyes, she was staring up at the shadowed canopy of the bed, but the darkness no longer frightened her. There was no hint of panic. Instead she felt more alive than ever, the blood singing through her body.

  It was a revelation, so absorbing that she barely noticed Quinn had moved. He was holding her firm, one arm about her waist, and his free hand gathered both her breasts while his mouth roved lower, down across her ribs and on to the soft skin of her belly. He eased her legs apart and, glancing down, she saw that he had shed his banyan and was naked, on his knees before her.

  ‘Quinn!’

  At her whispered cry he looked up. ‘Do you want me to stop?’

  ‘Yes. No. I do not know.’

  His eyes glinted wickedly in the candlelight. ‘Then I shall go on.’

  His hands slid down to her hips and he lowered his head, his mouth moving from one side to the other, then back to nestle in the curls at the hinge of her thighs. Her body froze with shock, but only for a moment. Then she was opening for him, shifting restlessly as his tongue flickered and teased. Another cry escaped her, but lest Quinn should think she did not like what he was doing to her she pushed her fingers through his hair, clutching at the thick, silky locks.

  He gave a soft laugh. ‘Do you like that, Serena?’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ she panted, offering herself up to him again. ‘Oh, don’t stop now.’

  He obliged her with his mouth and tongue while the rippling excitement built inside her. She arched back against the bed, her hands thrown out on either side and gripping the covers as he continued the exquisite torture, holding her firm as she writhed against him. The ripples became a flood that carried her higher until she did not know if she was flying or drowning. She cried out, her body bucking and shuddering as wave after joyous wave swept through her.

  At last the tide receded, leaving her sated and barely conscious. All she could hear was her own gasping sobs. Quinn gently removed her silk wrap, then he gathered her up and carried her around to place her in his bed. He climbed in beside h
er, snuffed the guttering candle and pulled the covers over them both. With a sigh she reached for him and he took her in his arms.

  ‘No more terrors?’ he murmured, his mouth against her hair.

  ‘No,’ she whispered, one hand pressed against his chest, her fingers threading through the crisp, dark curls.

  ‘Good,’ he pulled her closer, ‘because there is more.’

  ‘More?’ She managed a shaky laugh. ‘Oh, Quinn, I do not think I could...’

  He stopped her words with a kiss.

  ‘Not yet then,’ he murmured, pulling her into his arms. ‘Sleep now.’

  * * *

  Serena stirred. Something was different. She opened her eyes and the grey light of dawn creeping in through the unshuttered window showed her that this was not her bedroom. This was Quinn’s room. Quinn’s bed. There was nothing to fear.

  But, glancing up at the canopy, all she could see was an inky blackness. Icy fingers ran down her spine, fear gripped her. She could hear Quinn’s deep, regular breathing beside her. She wanted to cling to him and let him comfort her, but black terror was enveloping her and she could not breathe. She could feel again cruel hands around her throat, choking off her life.

  Trembling, she slipped silently from the bed. Without waiting to find her dressing wrap she fled back to her own room.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Serena sat up beside Quinn in the phaeton, doing her best to keep her distance, but it was difficult not to bump against him as he swung the carriage around the corners and negotiated the traffic.

  ‘I am glad you accepted my invitation,’ he remarked as he guided the bays into the park. ‘We need to talk. About last night.’

  ‘Yes.’ She clutched her hands tightly in her lap.

  ‘I thought it would be better done in private, and it gives me an excuse to drive your bays and be seen in this vastly fashionable equipage!’

  Serena knew his attempt at levity was to set her at her ease, but it only made her feel more wretched. She had failed him. Again.