In the evening, Geoffrey joined Carleton and Angelique at the theater to see the woman considered to be the latest rage. They sat in Lord Carleton’s box in amiable companionship.
“Whoever created this play should be tarred and feathered,” Geoffrey announced. “The acting leaves much to be desired. Has all of London lost its mind, or are they bored out of their heads and stoop to embrace such mediocrity?”
He was shushed by several attendees nearby.
The Duke simply glared at them with dismissal. They turned away from his imperious gaze.
Lord Carleton smiled but made no comment.
After enduring three full acts, they went to an after the play party and were able to meet the actors. The female lead—the woman everyone raved about—came up to Geoffrey and engaged him in conversation. “My name is Jenny Gladstone.” She batted her lashes and bit her too red lips.
He took an immediate dislike to the overly painted woman. “I am Lord Geoffrey Austen, the Duke of Sutton.” His superior voice dismissed her and he turned to leave.
“I know who you are. You’re a rogue and libertine.”
Perhaps she thought this approach would be coy, but it only infuriated him. He faced her. “Miss Gladstone, do you make it a habit to insult the nobility because you are not part of it, or because you do not know any better? Tell me, do you practice being obnoxious?”
Her eyes widened, her voice shook in defiance, “I’ve been insulted by better men than you.” She grabbed a drink from the tray of a passing waiter, and gulped.
“I doubt that, but if you are tempted to throw the contents of your drink at me, I would suggest it a waste of cheap champagne—to match your mediocre acting. Excuse me.” He left her with her face aflame.
Afterward, Geoffrey realized the wrong he’d committed. Her only offense being she wasn’t Serena. He found his friends, told them he suffered an upset stomach, and then left the party to hail a hackney cab.
Geoffrey arrived at his townhouse after midnight and went straight to his chambers. His valet had laid out his bed attire. He appreciated the fire’s warmth and glow after time in London’s fog. However, what he wanted most was to be somewhere else with a certain raven-haired beauty.
He made a momentous decision as he warmed by the fire. He had made commitments for the next day, but the evening was free to do as he pleased. Geoffrey would surprise Serena with a visit to her lakeside retreat at midnight. That could pose a problem since he would have to rent a horse in the village and ride across the estate grounds without Henry’s awareness.
“I can—I will do it. I must see her again. It is torture without her.”
He welcomed sleep, as it would make the hours pass faster. Soon he would be with his lady again.
The day began in a flurry as Geoffrey rushed to accomplish his chores. He left instructions with Neville that he wished no one to be aware at his leave taking.
His majordomo nodded. “If anyone asks, I shall say you are at your club with friends.”
“That includes my mother. Should she ask, simply tell her I left you no information.
“Understood, your Grace.”
Geoffrey departed his residence about eight in the evening; his coach left him at the village before eleven-thirty where he hired a sturdy horse.
Excited by the anticipation of holding Serena in his arms, he rode like the wind. The moon shone on the lake like dancing fairies. It was a few minutes before midnight when he slid from the saddle and tied the reins to a tree in the shadows. He squatted on one knee and waited.
“Will she come?”
Chapter Seventeen
Serena came down the path, a towel draped over her shoulders and Adonis on a leash at her side. She carried a lantern in her free hand. Slipping from her chemisette, she dropped it next to the light. For the first time, Serena brought the puppy into the water with her. He squirmed and yelped, not comfortable with the cool wetness. She held him close to her chest. “You are not happy, little one?”
Serena left the water, sat on the log bench, and toweled the pup dry. When she dried herself, she thought about Geoffrey, how his touch warmed her skin. She missed him. What occupied his attention now?
Perhaps Geoffrey partied, or visited the theatre, or God forbid, found pleasure in the arms of another woman. The thought put a knot in her stomach. Her heart ripped in pain.
The unleashed Adonis played near a tree in the moonlight. The shadows obscured his interest. Fearful it might be a raccoon or opossum that would bite the curious dog, she walked over to pick him up. When she stooped to do so, she saw movement. A horse whinnied. She grabbed the pup and stepped backward, her heart racing in alarm.
“Do you need rescuing from things that hide in the shadows, my wanton Sultana?”
She feared she might faint, the voice so familiar, the man she longed to see right in front of her.
“Geoffrey,” her voice sweetened. “Have you come to see me?”
“I could not stay away, Serena. I have missed you.” He strode to her and she melted to his chest. “I ran into Henry at White’s two days ago. Your brother acted in a strange manner. How has he been with you?”
“There are times he is moody and he speaks about his plans for me, but refuses to reveal them. I am frightened, Geoffrey. The last time he acted so, my betrothal to Trystan took place.”
“I remember when we were alone, he warned me not to get involved with you. I would like to believe your brother wouldn’t force you to do anything without your consent.”
The notion seemed incredulous.
“I used to think Henry loved me. If he does, it’s only when I do as he commands. There are times when I have witnessed ruthlessness in him. I think perhaps it is best to live in London with my relatives, though I do love the peaceful setting of this place on the lake. What am I to do?” She stroked Adonis’s head. “I believe it would be wise to seek out a barrister who is proficient at entails and such laws.”
“If you wanted, I could make inquiries on your behalf.”
“I’m not sure I feel comfortable doing that just yet. Bear with me, Geoffrey, he is my brother.” She reached out to him. “Do you want to come into the water?”
The caress of her hand on his arm led him in another direction. “The thing I want most is to come into you.”
Geoffrey’s lungs struggled for air. She shimmered like a naked silver goddess in the moonlight. His heart filled with passion, his breeches tightened. She was a glorious vision. His Venus, his siren, his obsession—everything a man could want. She was his woman.
He set down Adonis and took Serena in his arms. “Remember this?” He placed his lips on the fold of her mouth. She opened to him, and mated his tongue with hers. Her essence clung to her, lemon verbena, so pleasurable.
“How you torture me when I see you unclothed. It is good you are comfortable in your nudity. The evening air is cool. Do put on your shift so I can remove it later.”
She raised her arms and he placed her garment over her.
“I have been careful not to cause speculation. Henry thinks I have a redhead in the village that I tumble on a regular basis.”
“It is not true?” Her eyes sought his.
“No. I am guiltless in this issue.”
“Come with me, Geoffrey. I need you to make me whole again.” She turned, called for Adonis, and leashed the pup. Geoffrey picked up the lantern to light their way.
“He is bigger,” Geoffrey remarked.
“Adonis eats well enough.” Warmed at his presence, she laughed. They walked the path to her house. “I am happy to see you.” Serena gushed.
“Let me put the horse in your stable and I can be gone whenever you want me to. There is a story to tell about when Henry and I met the night I returned to London. He introduced Sir Leland LeBran to my friend and me. Do you know him?”
“Unfortunately, I met him twice, once at Henry’s home and then at his wife’s funeral. He did not seem sad to see her depart this world. My fi
rst impression, I did not like him. My second impression affirmed my first.” Serena shivered at the memory.
Geoffrey tethered the horse in the stable, and they moved toward the veranda.
“How is your mother?” Serena teased.
“Ready as ever to find me a wife. I do believe though I have dissuaded her for a while. I do not wish to discuss her antics when I can feast my hungry eyes on you.”
“Good, we are glad to see you.”
“We?” Lord Geoffrey’s brow furrowed.
“Emma, Adonis, and me.”
For a man who wanted no strings attached, he wondered how along the way he had acquired a family of sorts—a woman, a maid, and a puppy. Unaccustomed to the domesticity it presented, he shooed the thought away, all too happy to replace it with visions of the night he would share with Serena.
“Are you hungry? There is shepherd’s pie and you can have a piece with homemade ale.”
“Three feasts in one night? Shepherd’s pie, ale, and you,” he jested.
Serena hurried to the veranda and asked Emma to reheat the supper so Geoffrey might eat.
He greeted Emma with warmth and a rather large smile. She curtsied and scooted to the small kitchen.
He felt at home here with Serena, but danger signs flashed in his mind. With all the places he had been, all the roads he’d traveled, all the countries he’d visited, and all the women he bedded, nothing compared to the pleasures he shared with Serena. He was contented in a profound way. Golden handcuffs might appeal to him, at least for the short time they would be together. He could promise much, when under her spell, but he desired to be sincere.
Promises weren’t made to be broken, no matter what the reason.
He followed her to the studio and gazed at the oil portrait. “It is coming along. I like it, Serena. I cannot wait to hang it on my gallery wall. Or perhaps I will hang it next to my father’s picture in my study. We are thought to look alike.” Geoffrey paused. “You have never seen my townhouse. We shall have to remedy that. Perhaps you’d like to return with me to London?”
“You continue to ask the impossible when you know I cannot.”
His lips feather-kissed her nose. “Perhaps I can convince you? I might even leap with joy if you wished.”
Serena smiled. “How was city life?”
“London has not changed. It is a bore.”
“So when you are bored, you think to come to me? Am I just a diversion?”
Before he could answer, Emma came up and set a plate of food for him on the table. She curtsied and took the puppy with her when she left.
Serena pulled out a chair for him. “Sit and eat.”
He held her eyes. “You are more than a diversion. I intend to feast like a glutton, but on other things besides food.”
“You are naughty, your Grace.” The familiar intangible sensual thread permeated the air. How he had missed it. His inner core tightened at the pleasure in store for him.
He wished he knew what drew him to her. “Would you feast on me, my devil woman?”
He ate the pie and smiled. “Tell me, how have you busied yourself in my absence?”
“My life has a routine which varies little. I have taken Sheba on long brisk rides. Progress on your portrait continues. You occupy my thoughts far too much. I have not been bored.”
He took the napkin to his lips, then refolded it, and drank some ale. “We have known each for only nine days, and yet, I feel like I have known you a lifetime.” He stood, removed his jacket and placed it over a chair.
“You counted the days?”
“Yes. I did. Haven’t you?” He retrieved the brown paper-wrapped package he had brought with him and handed it to her.
“What is this? Am I to open it?”
“Yes. I purchased this in an ethnic boutique in the market.”
Her fingers tore at the paper and she took out glittery sheer pants and a small short top. She looked at him, her brows arched.
“It is a harem costume. I kept myself occupied by the vision of you in this attire as you performed an exotic dance for me.”
“Geoffrey, I don’t know how to dance in such a fashion.”
“In my dream, you did. You gyrated, swayed, and moved your hips in an exotic sexual display. You teased with your eyes, your hips, your hands—and other parts too. There is a veil. I will help you put it on.” He stripped to his waist. “Come. Let me feast on you. I want to watch you dress.”
He scanned the room, and then Geoffrey sat in a gold tufted chair and crossed his legs. He assumed the role of Master, reminiscent of a sheik.
In slow methodical motion, she donned the outfit. First, the top.
Serena blew him a kiss and donned the bottom. “So I am to dance for you. Is there more you wish to impart?”
Her breasts swelled when she sighed. He had chosen the right size and color. Purple was her favorite. The pants were held on with a waist string. She adjusted the flimsy bandeau top to cover her ample breasts.
Watching her whetted his lusty appetite.
He laughed as she moved her hips to jiggle the cymbal bells.
“It is daring, is it not?” she asked. “And noisy.”
“No one else can hear, my Serena.”
The veil had bangles with small clips, which she attached to her hair. He would remember this vision of her in the nights ahead. While too ready to discard his clothes, and to strip her, he had learned some patience along the way. He’d enjoy the exotic sight of her.
Their eyes met and his world stood still. He breathed deep drafts as the air around him became erotic—sensual.
“I need you Serena, like I need air to survive, sunshine on my face on a cold day, or the moon to light my path to you. You have become addictive, like an opiate. My body aches for you. You overwhelm my thoughts and all I want is to consume you in selfish pleasure. My fingers, my hands, and my manhood ache to touch you—everywhere.”
His eyes widened when she began to sway side to side, back and forth. Heel, toe, lift and point. Her arms moved in rhythmic, graceful parallel motion. Serena retreated, undulating her hips, and the sheer veil highlighted her coal-dark eyes.
“Do I look like Scheherazade? I have seen portraits in the British Museum of scantily dressed harem women.” Serena pointed her toe in his direction—heel, toe, lift and point. Each step jingled a sensual invitation.
His eyes devoured her when she gyrated her hips. Each subtle cymbal sound brought her closer and he maddened to hold and touch her. The nearer she came, the more his manhood throbbed. She mastered the finger-cymbals as she raised her arms and clanged over her head. Coal black eyes beckoned—and promised.
“Perhaps you look more like the biblical Salome, of the dance with seven veils. I am sure you have read about her in your Bible. Are you about to ask for my head on a platter?” His voice remained low and husky. He growled. “I ache for you.”
The fire in the hearth crackled a sharp response. “Tell me a tale, Geoffrey.”
“I will create a story for us,” he whispered hoarsely. “Imagine yourself in my draped tent in the desert. There is a small brazier to provide light and warmth. Somewhere outside a woman sings a Turkish love song and strums a lute. Your belly moves and writhes. I am driven mad with desire.” He sucked in a long breath.
“I am stripped to the waist in nomad fashion. There are satin cushions strewn along one side. Incense fills the air. I sit in the chair in the tent. You undulate before me and your sensuous lithe movements promise an invitation of things to come. The dance escalates as you whirl in spiral steps. Faster, faster.”
Geoffrey licked his lips, watched her every motion. His body stiffened, he fought for control of his relentless passion. It forged through him like a raging mythic god.
Serena moved toward him.
His voice was soft as a warm desert wind that caressed and tempted. “Can you smell the incense, Serena?”
Chapter Eighteen
“Yes,” Serena whispered to Geof
frey. “I can smell jasmine and copal.”
Her body ached for his touch. Transported to this make-believe world, she danced another step toward him.
“Do keep your movements slow and sensuous,” Geoffrey encouraged.
Serena undulated, raising one hip. The air became electric. She wanted to caress his sculpted chest. Her heart beat faster, matching the beat of ancient string music only she could hear. Serena pointed her toe and took a step. She raised her other hip. Heel, toe, lift and point. She moved toward Geoffrey.
“Come no closer. I am the sheik and you may not approach until I command you. Do you want me, my temptress?”
His voice made her smolder. Hot liquid churned within her, pooling, wet, slick.
“Yes, master. I want you—more than you can ever know. Do not tease.” She arched her back and her breasts beckoned while her lower body writhed. Her hands glided over her thighs in sensory invitation.
“Master, do you want me?” Heel, toe, lift and point.
“A thousand burning planets could not imitate the passion I feel for you.” He growled.
Serena embraced her role, extended her hand in invitation for his touch.
Geoffrey’s breath raced. “You may approach me.” His voice was low and hoarse—begging her.
She took another step toward him—raising one hip—and stopped. Her finger cymbals snapped. He arose and reached to stroke her glowing cheeks. Geoffrey caressed her head with the pads of his fingertips. The potent touch sent insatiable desire to her center.
Serena closed her eyes, enjoying the sensuous ripples he evoked. A powerful familiar emotion caused her inner core muscles to tighten and release in rhythmic expectation. She craved his hands on her body, to be flooded with warmth, scorched by him and all that he would do.
She ran her hands down his chest and rested below his waist. Passion and lust raged through her in one glorious moment, threatening to devour her. Serena closed her eyes. She envisioned the tent with Geoffrey dressed as a sheik. In the imaginary world, she had no inhibitions. She was his private dancer and his desires were her delight to fulfill.
Once Upon a Duke Page 13
