Chapter Four

Geoffrey Austen knew a legion of seductive women, but this one beckoned like a siren to a sailor lost at sea. From his experiences, he knew Serena would succumb to his advances, and soon the chase would be over. He wanted to prolong the journey and enjoy her feminine wiles as he would a fine aged wine with a distinct bouquet. His desire would be sated. They would become engulfed in the flames of passion together just like the images that kept him awake at night predicted. When the affair was over, would he forget her, as he’d done so many others? No, this one might be a bit harder to push from his mind and his heart.

He sensed she harbored secrets and knew he would have to gain her trust to learn them. She surrounded herself in mystery and double entendres. Sometimes she inferred, but never revealed. At other times, she diverted the conversation.

Footsteps alerted them and they stepped apart just before her brother returned. “Sorry that took so long.” After he placed a ledger in a drawer, Henry refilled his brandy glass. “You two are quiet. Is something amiss?” Henry’s eyes held Serena’s.

She opened her lips to speak when Geoffrey answered. “Nothing is wrong, Henry, though I wonder if you hope to entrap me by allowing me to be alone with your vivacious sister,” he added with obvious humor to disarm the situation. “She does tempt me. Do you toy with me? Is your shotgun at the ready?”

“There is no need for you to worry, Lord Geoffrey.” Serena defended. “I seek not marriage with you or anyone else. Henry knows that, although he is always after me to settle down again. I long for serenity. If I were to fall in love…” She looked away from both of them.

Henry pounded his friend on the back. “No, Geoffrey. I would not do that to you, but I will warn you, my sister is not to be trifled with. She is out of bounds. I know you too well, you scoundrel, and would surmise your sojourn in France and Italy has corrupted you further. You may look at the beauty within my home to your heart’s content, but you cannot touch.”

Geoffrey reared backward, his brows quizzed. “Henry, you know I am not a man to be leg shackled. I am much too young for marriage. I certainly would not entertain your dear sister if my intentions were not honorable.”

He, too, refilled his glass and took a hearty gulp, not to quench his thirst, but to calm his racing blood. He foraged in dangerous territory. He knew for a fact that forbidden fruit tasted the sweetest. In all honesty, he wouldn’t invite any relationship except for bed sport. Yet he found Serena an enigma and so unlike the arctic debutantes his mother preferred.

Serena stepped forward, her arms crossed tightly. “Know this, Henry, if and when I marry, it will be my choice and not someone you select for me. I am my own person, brother.”

“By law, until you remarry, I am your legal guardian, sister. This conversation is inappropriate in front of a guest.”

“As were your instructions that I was only to be worshipped from afar.”

Geoffrey saw her bite her lower lip in contemplation.

“When and whom I decide to bed will be of my own timing, and you will have no say in the matter, Henry.”

Geoffrey admired the fact Serena didn’t back down in fear or pretended false modesty. She challenged at every juncture and it was an allure. She would be a significant conquest, a special notch on his bedpost. One he would always remember.

“Serena, your words are despicable, that of a wanton—”

“Lady?” Serena glared at Geoffrey. “Perhaps you do not know me at all, brother.”

She walked to the pianoforte, opened the keyboard cover. “We need some music. Shall I play? Do you prefer Chopin or Mozart?”

Henry stood, his mouth agape, speechless at her daring.

“Play your favorite,” Geoffrey suggested. “May I change pages for you?” He joined her at the piano.

She sat in utter calmness on the carved Chippendale bench. “If you would like to hear a favored piece, I do not need you to turn pages. I know it by heart.”

Geoffrey stood at the curved side of the instrument, an unobstructed view of the magnificent Serena. He took his fill of her. His gaze encompassed her form and again found it worthy of further inspection. Her creamy skin held a slight blush. His eyes met hers—dark as a starless night. His lady.

She lowered her thick black lashes, ran her fingers over the keys in flawless execution. The satin soft skin of her shoulders beckoned again. How he wanted to nestle his head between her breasts and suckle to his heart’s content. He knew if he continued with these thoughts, he would be hard, something he couldn’t hide from Henry.

When she finished a portion of Chopin’s Fifth Symphony, Geoffrey applauded. “My lady, I enjoyed your exquisite rendition. You have so many talents.” His eyes belied the sentiment, yet other thoughts plagued him—she was temptation personified.

Serena thanked him and turned to her brother, “Henry, I am quite fatigued. I must bid you good night.” Her lips grazed his forehead.

“Yes, that would be best, all things considered.” Henry fumbled with the buttons on his vest. She curtsied to Geoffrey. “Thank you for a delightful evening. I bid you good night, Lord Geoffrey.”

He half bowed. “Oh, my dear lady, the pleasure was all mine.”

When he kissed her hand, she whispered, “Naughty, naughty.”

Serena left the room and a footman escorted her to a waiting carriage.

“I have never heard my sister speak with such boldness. It is an affront to me.”

“Henry, why is your sister not yet married?” Geoffrey inquired.

“Serena has been a widow for a year, the proper mourning period. We have our differences. I wish for her to make a strong political marriage in the best interests of our family. She, however, seeks a true love. I do not think such things exist. Of course, I have never been in such a besotted state. Serena is strong-willed, yet she usually accepts my guidance. This defiance is new to me.” Henry took another sip of the liqueur.

“What say you, Geoffrey? You’ve the reputation of a rake. With the many women you have bedded, did you ever fall in love with any of them?”

“I am not sure I know what love is. There came a time I thought love pierced, but she proved unworthy. Perhaps I fell in love more with the chase and conquest than with any one woman. Though, I admit, after a while the game grows tiresome.” He placed his hand to his temple then emptied his glass.

“My mother is anxious for an heir and she brings acceptable women to my attention. To my misfortune, they are replicas of her. I never saw real affection toward my father by my mother. Why would one want a cold existence when you could warm your bed with a temptress?”

Geoffrey walked to stand in front of the fireplace, and placed one hand on the mantel.

“When I do marry, it will be because I have fallen so deeply in love that I cannot bear any distance between us.”

“When that occurs, what will you do?” Henry probed.

“I will move heaven and earth to claim her. I am used to getting my way, am I not? What about you, Henry? You have been a bachelor much too long.” He needed to change the subject and fought not to dwell on the raven-haired Serena.

“I believe I am ready to seek a proper bride. Someone has attracted my attention, but her background is not suitable. I find myself in a conundrum, not sure if it will be a marriage of convenience or political consequence.” Henry laughed, “Affairs of state are my life. Love, if it ever existed, never entered into the equation. I may make an offer, but not of marriage.”

They continued the conversation and talked late into the night. Weary, they shared a final nightcap, and took leave of each other to retire.

Geoffrey entered his room too restless to sleep. He paced for a short time. Perhaps a midnight ride would calm him, but he knew he would end up at Serena’s door. He changed into the nightclothes the house valet had laid out for him. He sat in the wing chair in front of the fire that filled the room with soft light and flickering shadows. For a while he counted flowers on the wallpaper in the hope sleep would follow.

He muttered, “Three hundred forty-two, and still I do not asleep.”

At last fatigued, he crawled into the huge four-poster bed and gazed at the empty pillow beside him. His hand stroked the linen, and he closed his eyes imagining Serena near him. “My lady, how you torture me.” His hand touched the cheek she’d kissed with such compassion and tenderness. That one simple kiss had torn his world asunder.

Raw emotions collided with harsh reality. Sexuality and lust fought with tenderness and compassion. Sexuality and lust were familiar companions. The tenderness and compassion were uninvited guests.

Serena had gotten to him. He considered a return to his estate, but if he did so, she would win the game they played. He needed to be the victor.

He thought about how she’d dared him to fall in love with her or not. His choice. What did he feel for her? It couldn’t be love. Perhaps passion disguised as lust? She intrigued him, offered a promised danger as well as infinite pleasure.

In the short time they knew each other, he came to regard her as a worthy adversary, but also a friend. He knew many women but none did he consider friends. What made Serena different? It occurred to him that she paid him the compliment of—honesty. There were no pretenses.

Her boldness toward her brother’s demands made him admire her strength, that of a woman warrior. Henry meant to warn him away. Now, he wanted Serena more. His desire mounted every time they were together. Experience had taught him to be a patient man, but even he had his limits.

His reputation as a rake needed defense. Such men were immoral, liked women for sex sport, and left them behind without a care or backward thought. Why did it feel so wrong now—with Serena? Would sainthood be next? Heaven forbid.