by Gaelen Foley
His lashes swept upward, and he gazed into her eyes as he continued making love to her. He did not require words to tell her in that moment that this was the closest he’d ever felt to anyone.
She lifted her head from the pillow to press a sensuous kiss to his cheek, and made a private vow that he’d never be lonely again. Then she wrapped her legs cautiously around him, and he pressed up onto his hands, his skin hot, his muscular arms and chest flexing with his supple undulations.
His eyes gleamed like silver flames as he quickened his pace, taking her at a gallop now, until her body burned. The bed rocked, her wits whirled like the scattering snow, and the Duke of Rivenwood had his way with her entirely, his body damp with sweat, slick between her thighs.
She gasped with awkward suddenness at the wave of astonishing pleasure that washed over her out of nowhere. It took her so off guard that she nearly shrieked with her first full release.
Azrael growled—he actually growled like a wild animal—thrilling her to the core as he stiffened and slammed atop her, two, three times, roughly—delicious roughness. Panting, jaw clenched, he clutched her to him, gripping her by her buttocks. In the glimmer of firelight, she saw his face etched with untamed passion. Fierce and beautiful, he surrendered at last.
She felt his wrenching pulsations within her as pleasure exploded from him. Fascinated, she was intensely aware of him, his every move and shift and nuance, everything. Her own shocking spasms of bliss receded as his violent climax also passed, slowly easing.
He was left breathing heavily, his face flushed. He looked as incredulous as she felt about it all, maybe even more so.
“Oh my God,” he whispered fervently, finally withdrawing from her body. He rolled off her onto the mattress beside her, spent and panting.
She looked over at him, dazzled. “Oh Azrael,” she purred.
He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, still panting. After a moment, he rallied himself to pull the covers back up over them.
She smiled, more deeply touched than ever by his solicitude. What a splendid husband he would make.
“Come here, my beauty.” He swept her into his arms and pulled her down.
Serena rested her head on his muscled chest, still beaming at the feeling of his naked skin against her. He wrapped his arms tighter around her. She snuggled against him, ridiculously happy.
“Did you like that?” he murmured, as though he couldn’t resist asking.
Serena gave him a dubious smile, still glowing from his lovemaking.
Like was so drastic an understatement for her reaction to the earth-shattering thing she’d just experienced that all she could do was laugh. “You might say that. Did you?”
His answer was a low, very wicked, sensual groan.
Serena grinned, though, in truth, she was relieved to hear it. “Good. I wasn’t sure if I was doing it right.”
“You were perfect,” he whispered. He kissed her on the forehead, and she sighed with contentment.
Then they fell into a contemplative silence, holding each other while the wind whistled through the eaves of the old coaching inn.
“When do you want to get married?” he asked after a while.
“Soon. So we can continue doing plenty of this.”
He laughed. “Naughty girl.”
“Sorry,” she said, flashing a saucy grin.
“Don’t be. It’s one of your best qualities.”
“Mm.” She rested her head on him again. He spun a lock of her hair around his finger.
“Azrael?” she said after a moment.
“Yes, my love?”
“You said you found one way that we could be together. Well?” she asked. “Aren’t you going to tell me what it is?”
He was silent for a long moment.
She furrowed her brow. “At least tell me what it entails.”
“Very well.” He glanced at her, and his eyes gleamed like silver blades. “The people mentioned in that box. I am going to destroy them.”
Serena sat bolt upright and turned to him in shock. “What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said. Don’t worry, sweet,” he murmured. “I can be a much nastier fellow than you know when the occasion calls. It’s in the blood, don’t you know.”
“But—that sounds so dangerous. And one of them is my father.”
“Yes.” He considered this. “I suppose everything has its price.” He captured a length of her hair again and twirled it around his finger, gazing at her. “I’m sorry, but you saw what was in the box. You know what manner of men they are.”
She gazed at him, at a loss.
“I won’t let them control us or threaten you, or our children, or our future together. And they’re not going to pull me back in,” he whispered with ice-cold steel in his eyes, “because they’re going to be dead.”
Then he tugged her back down gently into his arms, but even after Azrael had fallen asleep, Serena lay wide-awake with dread over what he intended.
CHAPTER 14
Origins
Everything was so clear in Azrael’s mind the next morning. Crystal sharp, like the glint of sunlight on the snow that was already melting. How had he ever been confused over the right thing to do?
The answer seemed so obvious now. There was good and there was evil; having been born to the latter, perhaps his confusion was understandable. But this morning, he knew exactly where he stood.
No more hiding in the safe, dull, shadow realms of gray. No more staying out of it.
He would end this nest of vipers, for he alone was in a perfect position to do so. And it was not just for Serena, her safety, and the freedom and happiness of their future family.
It was for his mother, too. And old Mr. Foxham. It was for Bobby the cook’s boy and Lady Dunhaven, and the maids his guardian had raped and paid to keep silent. Hell, it was even for his poor dead cat, murdered by that demon whose seed had given him life.
Azrael was not one of them, and it was time to prove it.
If he did not take action, then he did not deserve Serena.
But first he had to see his fair betrothed home—and figure out what to say to Dunny at this juncture, having just deflowered his daughter.
Perhaps that part did not bear mentioning quite yet.
In any case, they set out at midmorning. The Frisians had grown playful in the snow after a good night’s rest and a generous serving of grain. Nickering in the harness, the team was raring to go, and Paulson was as cheerful as ever, though he sneezed twice within the first mile.
Serena and Azrael exchanged a rather guilty look, riding in the carriage.
“I fear your poor coachman has caught cold,” she said.
“A hazard of his trade, my dear. It’s not your fault.” Azrael did not mention the dubious look his driver had sent him this morning.
Paulson was no fool, nor was he blind.
Of course, Azrael did not make a habit of worrying what his servants thought about his morals, but Paulson seemed slightly scandalized to draw his own conclusions about what happened between Serena and Azrael last night.
They didn’t hide it very well. Nor did they try to, at least not at the Rose and Crown. After all, the staff there still believed they were Mr. and Mrs. Dane.
They had complimented Mrs. Marney on the hospitality of her establishment, and once they were well fortified with a hot breakfast and an extra jug of hot tea for the road, they set out for the northern border of the county, where the Earl of Dunhaven’s ancestral pile straddled the border of Buckinghamshire and Northamptonshire.
Serena and Azrael sat side by side, arms linked. She had a bright, well-ravished glow in her cheeks this morning, and her hazel eyes shone.
The sight of her enchanted him.
As the morning wore on, the sky grew gray again, bringing back more normal temperatures for November, but Azrael did not mind the gloom. She lit up for him with a warmth to rival any cozy fireside.
Azrael could not remember when he’d been so hap
py.
Every time he thought of making love to her last night, he wanted to do it again immediately. He was no rakehell like Netherford used to be.
He’d always been a choosier and more discriminating lover, and it was true that she had been a neophyte in his arms last night, but God, she had satisfied him to his very soul.
He could not stop touching her, caressing her this morning, possessively, perhaps. He kissed her often and put his arm around her, and laid his hand on her thigh through her skirts as she sat beside him.
And why should he not? She’d soon be his forever. This time by choice, nobody forcing them.
Serena doted on him, smiling as they traveled along. Satisfaction and complete absorption with him shone in the gold-flecked depths of her eyes.
He noticed, however, that she grew more nervous the farther north they went across the county. Finally, it seemed, she was beginning to worry what her parents would have to say about all this.
Sardonically, Azrael found her belated concern about their reaction rather amusing. At least his impetuous little minx hadn’t worried her pretty head prematurely, he thought, looking askance at her with a smitten smile.
At length, she decided to distract herself from her dread by getting back to the business of perusing the contents of the snakeskin box.
It still sat on the floor of the carriage, surrounded by its invisible aura of evil. Sometimes Azrael almost fancied that it was a live thing, with a wicked consciousness of some sort. That it was listening to them, no doubt disgusted by their newfound love.
Serena was undeterred by its serpentine nastiness. Moving her bonnet out of the way—he decided to count how many times she took it off and put it on again today—she opened the lid and reached in to start on another stack of its unsavory contents.
“Might as well keep myself busy,” she announced.
Azrael smiled softly at her. “You needn’t be so skittish, my darling. What we did last night is nothing compared to the sort of things your parents did when they were our age, remember?”
“An excellent point, Your Grace.” She nodded. “Thank you, that actually helps.”
“Don’t you think they’ll be at least somewhat happy that their daughter is going to be a duchess?”
Serena laughed. “One would hope so, but we’ll see.”
“Well, I think you’re going to make the most beautiful Duchess of Rivenwood there’s ever been.” He paused, cupping her cheek. “We’ll change the entire meaning of what this title signifies, you and I.”
Visibly touched by his words, she leaned closer and kissed him. “You say the loveliest things.”
Then she got down to business, and he decided to help.
“Where shall I start?”
Her slender eyebrows lifted. “You’re going to assist?”
“Might as well.” He drew off his gloves and reached into the box, pulling out one of the bound ledgers to review.
“I thought it made you queasy reading in a coach.”
“Not exactly.” He gave her a penitent look, uneager to admit that he just hadn’t wanted to get involved, as per usual. He supposed he hadn’t wanted to face the past any more than her mother did. But he had seen the error of his ways.
Serena gave him a fond, forgiving smile, then they got to work.
“You know, darling,” she said at length as the carriage rolled along a road that wound through the slushy fields, “it was hard to fall asleep last night after what you told me.”
She looked over at him with concern. It was only then that Azrael suddenly realized she was worried about more than just her parents’ reaction today—she was worried about him.
“What exactly do you mean to do?”
His first instinct was to stay silent. Keep everything a secret—again, as per usual.
But he reminded himself that, last night, he had violently overturned all his old assumptions, all his old ways of doing things. So that he could be with her. And though it still felt strange to him to be so open with someone, Serena was a part of this, and she deserved to know.
Besides which, he loved her and could deny her nothing, though he hadn’t said that aloud yet, either.
“Remember back at Owlswick, when I told you about the man in the woods, the agent?”
“Of course.”
“He’d informed me about a house in London, where I could call on the Order of St. Michael if I ever got into serious trouble with my father’s companions.”
“Yes. You told me you decided not to contact them for fear they might think it was a trick and target you, like they did your father.”
“Right. Well, it’s time to take that chance.” He nodded grimly to the box. “I’m going to give this to them as a token of goodwill and proof of my sincerity, and hopefully, they’ll work with me to eradicate this problem.”
Her eyes had grown round at his explanation. “But, Azrael, what if they don’t believe you? What if they think it’s a trick?”
Then you’ll probably never see me again, he thought, but he just smiled at her. In fact, the Order agents had a reputation for making those associated with the occult brotherhood mysteriously vanish.
“They’ll believe me,” he assured her. She was already worried enough. “I’ll give them the ring—I still have it—and they’ll know I’m telling the truth.”
She stared at him, looking frightened and pale.
Her stricken expression convinced him not to tell her the rest right now. She had enough to manage in the coming confrontation with her parents.
But the truth was that Azrael very much suspected that, provided the Order did believe him, he would have to be personally involved in seeing the thing through.
Hidden as the group was, he predicted that he would have to lure the villains to some particular location, where they could be taken into custody.
Unfortunately, to justify their arrests, they would probably have to be caught doing something horrible red-handed.
Azrael had a feeling that he would have to be at the middle of it. But if that was what it took to bring all this to an end, to exorcise the evils of his dark heritage, then so be it.
All he wanted was a clean slate and a fresh start without all this ugliness lurking in the corners of his life.
Serena shifted in her seat, looking unsettled, but said nothing. He appreciated the fact that she did not argue with him about it.
Having to persuade her every step of the way about his dicey undertaking would only complicate matters. Her stoic silence about his intentions relieved him, as it showed she was truly on his side. For the first time, it gave him the sense of having a real partner in life.
She chewed her lower lip while she continued scanning the papers. “Azrael?” she said. “If you give all this material to the Order, how will I find out who my real father is?” She glanced over at him, her lovely eyes troubled beneath her thick black lashes.
“Your mother is going to tell you.”
“Oh? What makes you think she’ll reveal it now?”
“Because I’m going to insist. You have a right to know.”
She frowned. “Azrael, you’re not going to yell at her, are you? She’s already been through so much, and I honestly forgive her for lying, now that I’ve seen the place where my sister died for myself. It made it…so much more real.”
“Darling, haven’t you noticed yet that I never yell?”
“Hmm, now that you mention it, you don’t, do you?”
“No. Don’t worry. I’m simply going to remind Her Ladyship of what’s at stake and make her understand we can’t afford to spare her modesty any longer. If she knows who your real father is—and she might not—then I will prevail upon her—tactfully, I promise—to reveal the answer to you. I just hope you don’t regret it once you know.”
He noted the doubt on her face, the puzzled knitting of her brow, the frown on her lips.
“What?” he murmured.
“If you were confident that you had the
power to make my mother reveal this information all along, then why didn’t we just do that from the start?”
“Because,” he said, irked at himself, “I was determined not to get involved, remember?”
At that moment, they turned in at the long, flat drive of Dunhaven Manor. It was wet with mud and lined with bare-branched trees.
Serena promptly began smoothing her hair and fussing with her clothing, making sure she was in good order to face her parents.
Azrael returned the papers and ledger book to the snakeskin box and closed it, then he sat unyielding and still.
Ahead lay the Earl of Dunhaven’s ancestral pile, a dull, unimaginative mansion exactly like a hundred others across England. It was built of gray stone, with the requisite four pillars out front and symmetrical wings off the main block.
It was the second stolid, unexciting house of his that Azrael had seen, so perhaps this gave some hint of the owner’s nature.
Well, that could explain why his daughter fancied eccentrics, he mused.
In fact, the dreary sameness of the house also gave him a sharper hint of the boredom that must’ve overtaken the former temptress, Lady Dunhaven, so many years ago. Was it ennui that had driven the countess to seek her thrills by dabbling in a form of decadence that had surely led to a darker place than the woman had ever imagined?
No doubt, the young Lady Dunhaven had soon discovered she was in over her head with the likes of his father and Stiver and the whole demented lot.
He would wager it was her beauty alone that had saved her. Like Serena, that lovely face probably had let her get away with anything in her youth.
Ah well, he thought. Whatever their faults, his future in-laws had escaped the Prometheans’ clutches somehow, and Azrael respected them for that.
As the carriage rolled to a halt, he noticed Serena looking ashen, dread stamped across her face. Now that they were here, her nervousness had turned to terror.
He touched her cheek gently. “Don’t worry,” he said, “it’ll be all right. You’re of age. They can’t forbid us.”
“Y-yes. I know. Still. This is sure to be difficult.”
“I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
