His Courtesan Bride (Brides of Mayfair 3) (36 page)

She sat forward suddenly, pressing at her breast with her hand, trying in vain to stop the pain that ached there. But it was useless. She realized too late that she was not in control here. Something else was sweeping her along in its powerful current toward an unknown destination.

Images swirled in her mind, memories, sensations—some terrifying in their intensity, some heartbreakingly beautiful. They were all tied together, like a puzzle one could never solve. Yet something inside her understood that it was never meant to be solved. The ever-changing pieces would always fit together somehow, no matter what. One simply had to keep rearranging them.

But she was still forgetting something. She wanted to remember, needed to remember. The pain in her chest made her double over in agony.

Then, she saw him.

Darius
.

Standing in the distance.

Waiting for her.

She reached for him, but he was too far away.

Then, she felt herself falling as if from a great height, and braced herself for impact.

Chapter 30

“Love can be a blessing or a curse; those with a weak countenance should avoid it at all costs. But for those brave enough to taste its unforgettable splendor, life will never be the same.”

–from
Memoirs of a Courtesan, by Lady Night

Serena’s eyes slowly fluttered open. She winced as a terrible pain suffused the back of her head. She felt as if she’d been kicked by a horse.

Then she remembered the Duke of Balfour looming over her, smashing her head against the billiard table and attempting to ravish her.

She decided quite easily that she would have preferred the kick from the horse.

She blinked a few times, trying to focus on her surroundings. She was in Darius’s bedchamber, tucked into the big four-poster bed like a child. The room smelled like him—a heady mix of masculinity, spicy shaving soap and crisp linen. Serena inhaled a deep breath and felt immediately comforted.

“Sleeping Beauty has awakened, I see.”

Serena turned toward the voice. It belonged to a man lounging in a wing chair near the bed.

It wasn’t Darius, but his friend, Major Havelock Price. He was dutifully sitting vigil next to her.

“How long have I been asleep?” she managed to croak. Her throat felt dry as paper.

“A day and a half,” Major Price answered, pouring a glass of water and tipping her head to wet her lips.

The news was shocking to Serena. She tried to sit up, but felt weak. The action made her head pound anew.

“I’m no doctor, but I think you should lie back, Miss Ransom,” he said. “You’ve suffered a concussion, quite a serious one. I daresay you are not out of the woods, yet.”

Serena did as Major Price bid her. She had to admit, it felt better to lie down than try and sit up at the moment. “Where is Darius?”

“Right now? Breakfasting with the Duke of Wellington, I imagine,” he replied.

“Whatever for?” Serena asked.

“I believe Darius is calling in a favor,” Major Price explained. “Certainly, Nosey owes us both a great deal for our exemplary service in the Peninsula. But I don’t like to call attention to it.” He grinned conspiratorially.

More memories came flooding back to Serena, frightening images that danced about her in a dark, hazy fog. “What happened after I passed out? Sharif, is he—?”

“Dead? No, my dear, quite the opposite” he answered. “I am happy to report that your bodyguard is convalescing at Lady Devlyn’s residence. The man is built like a mountain. Dr. Tomlinson expects him to make a full recovery.”

Serena closed her eyes as relief surged through her. She silently offered a prayer in thanks.

“What about the duke?” she asked, her skin crawling as she remembered the sensation of his slimy fingers upon her.

“Do you really want to know?” Major Price quirked a brow, looking as if he was dying to share the salacious details.

“I must know, major,” she asserted.

“After His Grace, the illustrious Duke of Balfour, finally regained consciousness, Darius beat him with a bag of billiard balls,” Major Price said, proudly.

Serena’s hand flew to cover her gaping mouth. “Darius tried to kill him?”

“No, no,” he answered. “Certainly not. Killing would be too good for that swine. Balfour is not dead. Though he may spend the rest of his life wishing he was. You see, where his nose used to be hereabouts,” he pointed at the center of his face, “it is now thereabouts.” Price indicated a spot off to the side. “And his jaw…well, it will be a miracle if it ever closes properly again.”

He stuck his jaw out to the side until it was completely off angle with the rest of his face and tried to move it up and down. Major Price looked like a wooden marionette which Serena remembered from her childhood.

“That’s not to mention his elbow, and his shoulder, and his left knee, and his right hand.” Major Price rose to his feet and began to demonstrate the effects of Darius’s revenge. He hunched his back and dipped his shoulder crookedly toward the floor, then began to walk about, dragging his leg like a dead weight. One hand was curled into a mangled claw, pawing at the air helplessly. He cocked his head to the side and said in an ogre-like voice, “
’Ello, I’m the Duke of Bloody Balfour. Care to dance?
”

A shocked laugh escaped Serena’s lips as she watched Major Price’s antics. It was a sin to find humor in the injury of another, and yet, she could not feel sorry for the duke if this was to be his fate. The man had planned to inflict untold depravities upon her. She could not feel compassion for such a monster, now.

Major Price ended the performance and reclaimed his seat. “I daresay the man’s outward appearance will now match his black, withered soul, which can only bode well for the rest of us. Though I am quite cross with Darius about one thing.”

“Which is?” Serena inquired.

Price frowned, and said, “He didn’t let me have a piece of him. I’ve been waiting for years to get it, too. Oh well, one should not look back, but forward. Balfour’s future—his rearranged appearance notwithstanding—should be quite interesting, indeed.”

“You mean there’s more?” Serena asked, unable to imagine what it might be.

The major smiled. “Oh yes. You see, that’s why Dare has gone to visit old Nosey. Wellington owes him a favor. And many owe favors to Wellington. Do not be surprised if before long, you read a notice in the
Times
announcing that His Grace, the Duke of Balfour, has been appointed governor of a tiny backwater island in the outward territories of the British Empire. I imagine the depraved duke will soon find himself somewhere unbearably hot, rustic, and infested with friendly mosquitoes, not to mention hostile natives. Darius will see to it that you shan’t be bothered by the duke ever again.”

Serena tried to absorb all that Major Price had related to her. So much had happened so quickly. And she had been unconscious for much of it.

Major Price got to his feet and rang for a servant. “I will have a message sent to Dr. Tomlinson. He gave orders that he be notified when you woke.”

All of a sudden, Serena thought of her friends, Lady D, Felicity and Bliss. She wanted to see them so badly, her heart ached with the need. “Major, could you please send a note to Lady Devlyn as well, bidding her and the girls to come?”

“They have been here already—your friends in the Courtesan Club. I sent them away.”

“What? Why?” Serena asked, alarmed.

Major Price rolled his eyes. “They were all crying despairingly over your condition. Except for Lady Devlyn. She held her countenance quite calmly. The other two, however, left me with two soaking-wet handkerchiefs and a dampened neck cloth. I do believe the lapels of my jacket will never be the same.”

“I apologize, major,” Serena said. “I am sure Miss Knightly and Lady Sterling did not intend to ruin your wardrobe, not to mention your accessories.”

Giving a boyish smile, he said, “Do not trouble yourself, Miss Ransom. Such emotions are not surprising in ladies so passionate and full of life. It is quite forgivable that my attire should bear the brunt of their distress.”

Major Price crossed to the doorway to greet the footman. Only it was not the footman who blocked the doorway with his tall, muscular form. It was Darius.

“I will see about fetching the doctor, now,” Havelock said, giving a nod to Serena, then to his friend as he departed.

Serena’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of the man she feared she would never see again. He was dressed all in black, save for the crisp white neck cloth tied at his throat. His unruly hair and hooded eyes gave him the look of a fallen angel.

He stared at her from the doorway, his expression unreadable.

Serena’s heart ached with emotion. She realized suddenly that she had wanted him to look happy and relieved…wanted him to rush to her side, pull her into his strong, warm arms and smooth away the hair from her face, all the while whispering to her that everything would be all right.

Darius did none of those things.

He merely stood there, staring down at her with unfathomable blue eyes.

Serena’s skin prickled with trepidation, regret, and need. She felt so vulnerable, so desperate for Darius to comfort her. And yet, she abhorred feeling so weak. This was what she had been fighting against for the past six months, and even beyond that. This feeling that made hot tears prick the backs of her eyes, this wanting…this maddening ache within her breast.

And though she hadn’t wanted to admit that she was trapped by its unyielding power, she knew such denial was fruitless. It wouldn’t save her from living out her days in its power.

It was love.

Impractical, stubborn, demanding love.

Joyous, bright and sweet. Hot, wicked and passionate.

Unwavering. Unending. Unexplainable.

Love
.

Serena had tried to outrun it, tried to outwit it, but it had always been one step ahead of her. Her heart had chosen Darius two years before, when it had first felt the pulse of his own only a hairsbreadth away. And no matter what Serena did, or how she tried to convince herself otherwise, her heart’s desire could not be altered.

Becoming a courtesan had been an escape from the pain of her own emotions. Serena had chosen a life that focused purely on the physical, and would keep her fragile emotions safely protected behind a carefully constructed wall of control. But Darius, with his relentless onslaught of irresistible passion, had broken through her defenses once and for all. The battlements that had protected her were now reduced to rubble. She could not keep Darius out any longer.

Leaving him for the duke had been another attempt at defense. But her plan had backfired in the most horrible way. Her fear of losing control with Darius had made her take a foolish risk with the duke, and almost cost her more than she could have imagined. Serena did not want to think about where she would be at this very moment, if not for Darius.

The man in question stood silently in the doorway, looking foreboding as a cold winter sky. But Serena didn’t care. She was through with being afraid. She would meet this challenge head on, with all the pain and uncertainty it might bring.

Reflexively, some of Lady Devlyn’s ‘Courtesan Rules’ danced in Serena’s mind. This time, she was going to break them all.

‘
To make a man speak, say nothing
.’

She was going to tell him everything in her heart.

‘
To make a man give you everything, give away nothing.’

She would give him all that she had to give
.

‘The only power
a man can have over you, is that which you give him.’

She would give him the power to love her fully and completely, if he chose to.

‘No gains, without pains’

She would be unafraid of a true partnership between a man and a woman—and all the messiness and pain that might include—if Darius would only have her by his side.

Serena took a deep breath, and began to speak.

“I realize that you are angry with me, Darius,” she said. “I imagine you have a right to be. I left you for another man. I tried to deny the truth of my feelings for you. You offered me love and even asked me to become your wife. I threw it all back in your face.”

“Serena—” Darius said, stepping inside the room.

“Let me finish. I have much to say to you.” She took another deep breath. “I rejected your offer of marriage and I rejected you—the man I love more than life itself—because of my own childish fears. Instead of facing the challenge of our love head on, I ran from it, thinking only of my own preservation. I sacrificed your feelings in order to protect my own.”

He took another step toward her. “Serena—”

“But love is a demanding mistress,” she continued. “If one wants to experience the splendor of her gifts, one must be willing to risk heart and soul. There is no half way. There is only complete trust, complete surrender to another human being.”

He put his fists on his hips and yelled, “Serena!”

She gulped, momentarily stunned by the harshness of his tone.