Chapter Fourteen

It mattered not to Geoffrey that Serena may have assumed he couldn’t come to her. He was here and wouldn’t return to the manor house before he’d bid her a proper goodbye. Disappointed, he looked up at the bright moon and fisted his hands.

“Looking for someone?”

He recognized the voice in the darkness. He turned. “Yes, my wanton lady. You.”

She walked out of the shadows and stood before him in a glorious sheer creation. Geoffrey had never seen such a nightgown. Tiny strings held it together and it cleaved downward in the front to just below her navel.

“You remind me of a Grecian goddess.” He placed his hand at her back, opened the veranda door, ushered her into the house, and locked it behind him. A candelabrum in the upper foyer cast a shadowy glow. He took her hand and led her up to her studio.

“The house was dark when I arrived. I could see no light.”

“I closed the drapes for absolute privacy and did not want to call attention to light in my bedroom. It would be best if the house were dark.”

“I understand. Serena.” He latched the studio door. “I need to etch this moment in my mind.”

He inspected her at his leisure. “You could be Aphrodite, the deity of love and beauty.”

“I could be whatever you wished. Would you fancy a siren, a goddess, a temptress, a courtesan, a gypsy or just me, as I am with you?” Her voice beguiled and charmed in a seductive tone. It was as if the heavens called out his name, time and time again. He closed his eyes, opened them quickly, to make sure she would not vanish.

“You are all those things to me, Serena. And so. Much. More. There are no words that could define what you mean to me. Let me show you.”

He came to her, touched a ribbon. The gown loosened and fell free of her breasts. He reached toward her, stroked his finger over the delicate flesh bared to him. Her fingers ruffled his hair, the touch stimulated and sparked his passion. How could he leave her behind?

He pressed his lips to the cleft in her throat, a spot he knew she found erogenous. A trail of kisses found their way to her chin and when she opened for him, his tongue sought its mate and he heard her purr. Geoffrey held her face in his hands and stepped back.

His finger flicked another string and the gown fell to the floor, exposing her luscious skin in the flickering candlelight. He walked around her as if she were a slave girl for sale. If only it were true, his entire fortune would be spent to secure her.

“Do you like what you see?” Her voice was sultry and soft.

“Yes, I do. I look for flaws but find none. Your beauty leaves me speechless.”

“My scars—”

“Are beautiful to me. They tell me your story.” His hands touched her back and slid down to her buttocks where they lingered as he caressed her with gentleness.

“Is there anything you would like me to do?” Serena asked.

“Yes.” He moved back, removed his jacket and cravat, and sat in the wing chair by the fire. It cast its glow in undulating waves on her body. “Touch your nipples and then circle your stomach with one hand.”

He watched as she cupped both breasts and lifted them as part of the bounty she offered. The expression on her face satisfied him, but he thought perhaps her eyes held a challenge to come suckle. Geoffrey found it hard to resist. When she slid one hand downward past her navel, his arousal became all too obvious.

“More.” He growled in a low raspy voice. “Show me more.” He removed his boots and stockings.

Everything with them was still new. He wanted to share a thousand nights, a thousand mornings with her at his side, and a thousand ways to make love. His heart pounded in his chest. Sensations of desire, like he’d never experienced, made his nerve endings tingle. He craved to touch her—everywhere. He liked that she’d lost all inhibitions, anxious to please him in every manner.

Her head fell back as her core became a liquid, hot, demanding pool. She gyrated in front of him, enjoying the pleasurable sensations she created for them both. “A molten river flows inside my veins and courses through me,” she whispered.

“Lie on the bed, Serena. Show me how you feel. Let me see the ecstasy on your face. Let me see how your body wants me. Let me see the passion that flows within you.”

She moved backwards and placed herself on the bed where he would have full sight of her. He could see the glaze on the curls at her apex. He wet his lips in anticipation of the feast in store for him. “What is it you want of me?” he growled.

“I want to be scandalous with you—and I want your hard shaft against me. I need your hands upon me, the thrusts of your thickness inside me. Do not deny me. I am yours to take.”

Geoffrey discarded his vest and shirt. He heard her soft moans. His breeches fell to the floor and his member found release from its captivity.

As she touched him, his loins throbbed—and ached in unquenchable need.

Serena lay upon the bed in a seductive pose, both arms outstretched to welcome him. A desperate need coursed through his body and he could wait no longer.

He came to her, knelt and centered himself over her thatched triangle. In one swift motion he entered her, withdrew and plunged, then deeper still, until he was sheathed to the hilt in her hot womb.

“Is this what you want?” Her tight muscle welcomed him. “Oh, my Serena. I cannot have enough of you.” He plunged further and harder.

“Yes. Oh yes.” She shattered in wave after wave of ecstasy.

He flung his head back as the orgasm swamped him with mindless pleasure. Serena unleashed the feral animal in him. The scent of her filled his nostrils as he remained within her hot slick core.

She spasmed around him, cocooned his turgid member, and held him captive. He was her prisoner of love.

****

Serena basked in awe of desire and pleasure she found in his arms. He brought out the seductive wanton in her. He transformed her into a female deity—desirable, more than that—an exotic treasure to be cherished.

“You are my wondrous lady,” he whispered as he rested.

But oh, the salty scent of his perspiration permeated the air. It aroused her and she touched his buttocks, teasing his flesh with her fingertips. His shaft swelled again, filling her to capacity. The sensations threatened to suffocate.

Her body drowned in need of him. It thrummed in absolute want. She wrapped her limbs about him and kneaded his buttocks, holding him inside so there was no escape. Fluted music tempered her mind. No matter what he gave, she wanted more and more and more. It was madness. She arched her body like a wild thing, obsessed with the elusive sensation of having him bring her to the crest of all she desired.

He started to withdraw and then thrust again. Together they found the perfect tempo.

“Geoffrey, shatter with me. I-I…” She screamed as it happened, rolling over her again and again.

He roared, she would swear they heard it in the next county.

Amazingly virile and devastatingly gentle, she felt protected in his arms. He had unlocked her heart, body and soul. The desperate thought of his absence rendered Serena tireless. It clawed at her and she dreaded the moment when he would be gone. The fire in her belly became an inferno. She knew what it meant to be wildly passionate. Her ears pounded with the beat of her own heart like a well-played orchestra drum.

He rolled off her and lay on the bed panting, his hand rested against her stomach. Heartbeats later, the fire burned low, and the room cooled. Geoffrey got up, placed a few logs on the coals.

His corded, muscled back rippled with each movement. The glimmer of the hair on his legs and thighs in the glow of the fire fascinated her. She could stare at him like this for a lifetime and never tire. She wanted a lifetime with him. A lifetime of passion, desire and love. That was the problem. There would be no sleep tonight, not when they could talk, hold and explore each other.

He finished stoking the fire and sat on the edge of the bed, staring into the flames.

“Geoffrey. Tell me about your father.”

“My father inherited the dukedom when he became of age. Being an only son, his boyhood years were spent in serious education. When he met my mother, he was ready to love completely. She was prepared to marry a wealthy man. They did, but even in my younger years there appeared to be little affection or intimacy between them.”

Geoffrey exhaled. “My father and I had a good relationship. At age twenty-four, I inherited the dukedom when he died of a heart attack. I have missed him ever since.” Geoffrey poured them both a brandy and handed Serena her glass. “My father would have adored you as I do. He appreciated a lusty woman. Pity, he didn’t marry one. I believe I take after him.”

He sloshed the liquor around the rim of his snifter and his eyes raked over her. “I never asked him, but I do believe after many years of marriage, he sought more agreeable company for his needs.” Geoffrey whispered, “My Serena, do you have any idea how you tempt me when you bare your breasts and recline on the bed in such a manner? You could pose for a nude picture which could hang in a prominent men’s pub or in Madame Odette’s brothel salon.”

“Did you intend the remark as a compliment, Geoffrey?”

“Yes.” He smirked. “Please do not take umbrage, my lady.” He turned to her and cocked his head. “It occurred to me that when we first met, your face was familiar. Now I remember why. There is a painting that hangs in the National Museum of the sister of the Sultan Murad III. It is a favorite portrait of mine. The two of you could be twins with your dark curls, high cheekbones and coal eyes. Her proper name was Sultana. From now on, I will call you my wanton Sultana. It will be our private secret. Would you like that?”

“Yes, Geoffrey. I would.”

His eyes devoured her body and his loins throbbed again. It was the vicious thought that this might be their last time—insidious passion, desire, and then gratification.

Geoffrey recognized the familiar look in her eyes, yet he enjoyed talking about his beloved father.

“Tell me more about him,” she urged.

He further unfolded his story. “Even though I have a reputation as a rake, my estates are well run. I hire the best managers and I am thorough with the accounts as my father taught me.”

He took a gulp from his glass, and then twirled its contents. “I do not feel my mother loved my father as he did her. He worshipped the ground she walked on, but do you know I never once saw them kiss or embrace.”

His breath deepened. “My mother never came into the schoolroom or spoke to my tutors, but my father spent a lot of time with me. One of the things I remember most is when he surprised me with a pony for my fifth birthday. He loved me to extravagance. As I got older, he taught me how to hunt and helped me purchase my first rifle. He taught me many things.”

“Such as?” Serena leaned forward, rested her chin in her palm.

“Knots. He taught me how to tie sailor knots, a favorite hobby of his. He would say, Geoffrey, my lad, there is much to learn. We shall start with simple things.” Of course, I had instructors, but he lavished his time on me.

“Did you resent the fact that your mother did not spend time with you?” Serena wondered.

“It disturbed me that she never wanted me in the first place. When as a young boy, I overheard her arguing with my father, she’d made it clear she married him for what he could provide. Her words were cruel when she stated she’d never wanted children, but complied to do her duty. She hated it when the pregnancy distorted her body.”

Geoffrey’s brow furrowed. He closed his eyes against the memory, enough to make his ardor wane. “I gave you an heir. There will be no more children,” were her exact words. She walked out of the room, saw me in the foyer, and brushed by me without mention, her expensive silk gown rustling in the silence like a death knell.”

“Dearest, it must have been painful. What did you do?” Serena reached for him.

Geoffrey went to her. “I ran to my father and gave him a hug. He saw my pain and tried to comfort me, but those words will haunt me forever.”

“He spoke softly. ‘My boy—my precious boy, we cannot always obtain what we treasure. Sometimes we make mistakes. Nonetheless, we must strive to rise above them. Remember this.’ It was then I vowed never to have love enslave or beggar me.”

“How old were you when your heart was torn so?”

“Eight, and from that day forward my relationship with my mother became as arctic as the Polar Regions. She did not care and continued with her frivolous lifestyle.” Geoffrey paused. “It occurs to me I have not told anyone about the incident—until you. I have shared this burden with you. I feel better already. Thank you for listening.”

“It all serves to know you better, my Geoffrey. I believe that is what a relationship is about.”

He walked to sit on the bed beside her, his legs locked underneath his large frame, his shaft relaxed and exposed in a most natural manner.

“Let me get my sketchbook. I want to draw you.” She rose, reached for the book on the shelf, and flipped to a blank page. Her fingers worked their magic with the charcoal. Within fifteen minutes, she had a good likeness of all his male body parts. She giggled as she took a small posy from a glass vase and settled it in his pubic curls.

“Would you have me look like a popinjay?” He removed the flower and cast it to the floor.

“It is not possible with you.” Her laugh was mischievous.

“Perhaps if you had sketched me when it saluted, it could be believable.”

“Your private parts should be displayed as a national treasure in the British Museum,” she teased.

“Do you think so? No one has ever spoken of this to me before.” His grin wicked, his pride assuaged.

“Perhaps the others were not connoisseurs of male anatomy?” Her eyes glistened with misbehavior.

He took the sketchbook away. “It is one thing to draw me but I desire to give you the real treasure.” He raised himself, his engorged member erect, the veins distended in purple hue. “Lick me.” His hands remained akimbo at his waist.

“The master has spoken.” She laughed in mirth.

Serena knelt before him and took his manhood into her mouth. She passed her tongue over the tip of its glistening shaft. His moan encouraged her to take it in further, and she suckled. Her hand caressed the base as she did so.

He groaned, closed his eyes. He picked her up and laid her on the bed. “I promised you all of me.” His body covered hers. He thrust into her wet core and penetrated deep. This time his lovemaking was slower, sensual, and echoed their mutual needs.

Her body vibrated and trembled when the wave of pleasure overtook her. “Oh, my love, take me. Take me now.”

She climaxed and he followed suit with a giant tremor.

They were in total communion with one another. More than pleasurable, more than imaginable, more than believable, they were one in mind, body and soul.

Serena relaxed in the sinewy muscles of his arms, while serenity blanketed over her.

They slept entwined for several hours. When the cold woke them, Geoffrey stoked the dwindling fire until its warmth permeated the room. He realized he was voracious for something to eat and foraged in the studio where he’s seen bread and jam on the table. He cut three slices, slathered on the red currant jam, and brought them to Serena on a linen towel. They still had a few hours left.

“The jam is fresh and Emma made the bread.” Serena arched her shoulders and took the sweet treat. He joined her on the bed. They left crumbs everywhere and shared a laugh as they brushed them away.

“I will leave you my London address. You will need it to let me know when the portraits are complete,” Geoffrey said. “Time grows short. My townhouse is off Grosvenor Square. I will be there for a month. Thereafter I leave for a tour of my estates. I will also give you the name of my majordomo. If you need me, contact him.”

He held her hand. “Do not look so sad. Promise, if you need me, you will seek me.” He kissed the back of her hand. “Promise, Serena.”

“I promise.” She turned her face away. “Goodbyes are hard when there is no tomorrow in sight, but you gave me no illusions.” Her eyes brimmed with tears. “My sadness will pass.”

“Come to me, dearest. Let me hold you and relish these last moments.”

He reached out to hold her. “I know you have declared that you cannot go away with me, and your reasons are just. Perhaps, I could kidnap you.” He spoke in jest, but he would act upon it if she gave him cause.

“You could, but you will not,” she answered. “I will be no man’s possession. I will share my life only as an equal. I will not be controlled. My lesson has been well learned, just as yours was with the difficulties between your parents. It will never happen again.”

Silence engulfed them. What more could be said?

Serena clung to Geoffrey’s chest. “Leave me something of yours to remember you by.”

“Such as?”

“It could be your cravat or your shirt. I need the scent of you to remain with me here. It is so distinct, your special flavor of masculinity, cloves and sandalwood.”

Other women had asked for jewelry, diamonds, or money, but no, she would ask for something so little, but which she valued. Geoffrey drew the covers around them and kissed the top of her head. They both fell asleep nestled in each other’s arms.

****

Serena awoke, glimpsed the empty pillow. Her sense of loss was like a fist to her stomach. Perhaps it was best there had been no formal goodbye. She couldn’t have endured the pain of seeing him walk away. The hole he left in her heart spread through her entire body like a crushing ocean wave sucking her into its fierce undercurrent. If ever a future could be as dark as a midnight starless sky, it was hers without Geoffrey. The man who took her demons away and made her whole had gone. The goodness and gentleness of his lovemaking evaporated into thin air as if it had never been. Geoffrey knew she wanted more—commitment of heart and soul. The words she longed to hear, I love you, he didn’t say.

Regardless of her promise to Geoffrey to make contact if she needed him, Serena was convinced their paths would never cross again. Bereft had never held such meaning as it did today. She gazed around the room they’d shared and recalled all the wondrous moments. Shadows clouded the images and the light vanished.

Oh, how the memories hurt.

To ease her pain, she went to her escritoire, retrieved a parchment and wrote a note to him—one that she would never have delivered. Setting the words on paper might help her wounded heart. She wrote the date to memorialize it.

March 15, 1817

Dearest,

I write this because you are gone. Lust is sinful—and wonderful. All of me, body and soul, ache for you. I was a good and chaste woman, and then I met you. Stolen moments and passionate lovemaking were my downfall.

There are always consequences for impure deeds, I learned. But would I do it all again?

Yes! For every woman should experience passion and lust once in a lifetime with a man who can make the sun shine, the moon glow, the flowers bloom and the birds sing with just the wondrous touch of his lips.

With the letter completed, she signed it, I love you, Your Wanton Sultana

She withdrew an envelope from the drawer and addressed it to him, writing only his first name. Serena searched for a hiding place and decided to tuck it behind his portrait adhering it with a wax seal. His eyes looked out to her from the picture.

She sighted her sketchbook on a table, and opened it. From his portrait she drew him on the right side of the page. She went to her bedroom, stood in front of the mirror, and sketched herself next to his likeness. From earlier sketches of Adonis, she inserted him between the two of them. Propose to me, Geoffrey. Will you? There could never be anyone after you. She wrote the words on the bottom of the page.

“I shall have grand dreams of our affair, my love. You did not discard me as an outcast lover, but you have left me empty,” she shouted to the empty room.

Despite the political or arranged marriages of the time, Serena wouldn’t settle for less than an ultimate commitment between herself and the man who could not live without her. Why could Geoffrey not share his future with her as his wife?

He had left her his cravat and shirt as she’d asked. She lifted them to her face. How the smell of him comforted. She put on his shirt, found it soothing and tied his cravat around her throat. His familiar clove scent pleased, calmed her, akin to a caress, a wanted touch, a balm to her wounded heart.

What would have happened if she had run away with him?

Henry would be furious and try to find her. She had some money but her brother oversaw her main trust.

Serena decided she’d been right not to settle for so little when she wanted much more from him. “Geoffrey, please see we are meant to be together,” she pleaded to the night air. “Return to me—marry me.” Serena spoke the words, but she knew they fell on deaf ears. She gazed upward toward the heavens and prayed.