The Other Duke (6 page)

Serafina fought to maintain the proper expression when faced with such sentiments. She didn’t want to offend Mrs. Flynn or the others by allowing them to see the ugly truth in her heart.

“Thank you. Cyril’s death was a shock,” she said, sticking to the truth so a lie wouldn’t be revealed too easily.

Annabelle nodded with sympathy. “This entire situation has been such a whirlwind for us, I cannot imagine what it’s like for you.”

Serafina shot Rafe a look. He gave her an encouraging nod, as if giving her permission to be honest or friendly or whatever she desired to be. She wasn’t certain how to respond to that, in truth.

“Yes, well, I hope you know that I understand if you cannot look at me kindly.” Serafina dropped her gaze. “I realize that Rafe…that His Grace…is dear to you. My existence likely brings him harm in your eyes.”

Mrs. Flynn drew back in what seemed to be true surprise. “My dear, is that your fear? I assure you, I recognize that you are as affected by these events as my son. To be forced by contract to marry another when you had planned a different life…it seems positively medieval! I recognize your father’s desire to remain connected to the house of Hartholm, but…” She trailed off. “I don’t think it is fair to you anymore than it is to Raphael.”

“But since circumstances are what they are,” Annabelle added. “We welcome you to our family.”

Rafe cast a quick glance to his brother and even Crispin managed a tight smile. “Indeed.”

Serafina blinked at the tears that suddenly stung her eyes. She had been so afraid of this moment, of meeting these people, and yet they treated her with respect and care that went far beyond even her wildest dreams.

“I see Kitterage floating about by the doorway, casting glances in at us,” Annabelle said. “So it must be time for supper.”

They all stood in unison and to Serafina’s surprise, it was her future sister-in-law who clasped her arm and drew her toward the door.

“Come,” she said with a laugh over her shoulder that was directed toward Rafe. “Let me tell you all my brother’s most embarrassing secrets so that you might use them against him at will.”

Serafina couldn’t help but laugh as well, even as she tried very hard not to look at Rafe herself. Right now she didn’t trust herself not to reveal too much if she dared to meet his blue eyes.

A few hours later, her belly full and mind put at ease by the supper she had shared with Rafe’s family, Serafina followed Rafe through the French doors out onto a broad stone terrace that overlooked the gardens below. The summer air hit her and she breathed in its cool freshness before she cast a side-look at her fiancé.

“Your family is… They’re
wonderful
,” she said.

He took her hand unexpectedly and drew her forward across the terrace, taking her toward the wall and away from the windows that granted them both light and some kind of hint of a chaperone from the people inside.

Immediately, Serafina’s heart began to pound.

“Thank you,” he said at last. “I happen to agree.”

“Your mother has the sweetest disposition and she truly seemed to want to know about me,” Serafina continued. “Your sister has a brilliant mind indeed—I can see why you had her act as solicitor by reviewing the betrothal documents.”

“Annabelle is often too smart for her own good,” Rafe said with a laugh.

Before, that kind of comment might have tweaked Serafina and made her question her fiancé’s character, but she had watched Rafe with his sister through the night. It was clear the pair adored each other, even with all their playful teasing.

“And what do you think of Crispin?” Rafe asked.

Serafina pursed her lips. “I think he is the most standoffish of the group,” she admitted. “And I don’t think he has quite made up his mind about me. Despite that, he was utterly polite and I saw the charm that gossip has labeled both of you to have.”

“As I told you before, Crispin is my best friend as well as my brother,” Rafe said. “So I hope you don’t hold any hesitation you might feel against him. I don’t think it is personal.”

“No, I don’t either.” She shrugged. “He wants to protect you, that is as clear as the nose on his face. It must frustrate him that he cannot save you from this situation.”

Rafe drew back, as if surprised she had come to that conclusion about his brother. Then he smiled. “In time, you will know each other better and he will become more comfortable.”

Serafina turned toward him fully. “
Will
we know each other?” she asked. “Since you and I do not intend to have a marriage that is real, will he truly have any more relationship with me than we have now?”

Rafe blinked. “Serafina, we will ultimately have children—it was part of our bargain. I have no intention of abandoning them. We will
all
have a relationship, even if we are not a doting husband and wife. I hope we can become…friends.”

Serafina swallowed. Friends. The man standing before her, looming before her, all masculine beauty and heat and charm, didn’t seem like the kind who made
friends
with women. Gossip labeled him a seducer, though not a cad.

She turned away so she wouldn’t have to address that issue. “All I meant to say was that they are different than I expected. Welcoming and kind, and I appreciate that a great deal.”

“I assume that means my Aunt Hesper was not equally welcoming,” Rafe said softly.

Serafina tensed. She had not meant to reveal that detail to him. But he had gleaned it nonetheless.

“She never liked me much. The contract was written between Cyril’s father and mine, and I was never under the impression she had any say in it. She certainly always made it clear that I did not pass muster as a mate for her only child.”

Rafe shook his head. “If it helps, none of my family ever passed muster either. Even at Cyril’s funeral, she accused me of sweeping like a vulture to collect the spoils of her dearly beloved son’s untimely death. Nasty woman.”

Serafina looked up at him. Here was yet another thing she had in common with the man. It seemed there were quite a few.

He shifted as she stared and suddenly he inched closer. “Sera…may I call you Sera?”

She blinked. No one had ever given her a nickname before. Certainly no utterly distracting men. It felt very
intimate
.

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

He laughed. “Why don’t we try it and see if we like it,” he suggested. “Sera, I have been thinking about yesterday afternoon since we parted in your father’s foyer.”

She swallowed. “About…about our discussions?”

He shook his head slowly. “No. About kissing you.”

She took a step back, but the terrace wall didn’t allow much escape from either Rafe’s hard body or her own mind. In truth, she had been thinking of his kiss both in the phaeton and in the foyer as well. They were shameful, heated thoughts that she had been trying desperately to squelch.

“I would like to kiss you now,” he revealed, reaching up to slide the back of his hand down the curve of her bare arm. Even though the night was warm, she shivered and he smiled slightly at the reaction. “Will you let me?”

Her mind’s first reaction was to say no, but to her surprise, she found herself nodding, as if her body was disconnected from her intellect. Because her body very much wanted to kiss him again.

He eased even closer and wrapped one strong arm around her waist. The embrace was gentle, not trapping, and she relaxed into it as he cupped her chin and tilted her face upward to grant him access to her lips.

Her breath was hard to find as his mouth descended, descended, and finally his lips brushed over hers in another feather-light caress. She stood still beneath his ministrations for a moment, but then she began to kiss him back. It felt like they stood together for a very long time, but it couldn’t have been so very long. The only thing to disturb the perfect moment was when he parted his mouth over hers and gently probed her with his tongue.

She stiffened at the insistent pressure, anxiety rising in her chest. But he wasn’t demanding, he wasn’t hard or harsh, and she found herself opening to him slowly.

He let out a small, achy groan before his tongue moved inside her, gently tasting and teasing and turning her legs to jelly and her mind to mush. She lifted up to her tiptoes to get closer, tilted her head for better access and lost herself in this touch, this need she had never felt before.

He was panting when he broke the kiss, his bright eyes flashing in the moonlight.

“I
do
like kissing you, Sera,” he whispered, his breath warming her already hot cheeks.

She swallowed, forcing herself not to follow when he took a long step away. Now that she was not in his arms, she realized what a precarious position she was in. In the dark edge of the terrace, he could have done anything to her.

And yet he hadn’t.

“I—” She turned away from him, hands shaking. “I should go home.”

“I suppose it is time,” he said, coming around so she had to look at him. He explored her face and she saw his concern, his hesitation. His questions that she didn’t want to answer.

The responses she would give would be far too humiliating.

“Sera—” he began.

She almost shut her eyes at that name coming from his lips. It seemed so very intimate to have this little private thing they shared. And not as unpleasant as it should have been. Kind of like his kiss.

“I’d like to say goodbye to your family,” she interrupted, moving toward the parlor where the others were still gathered.

If he wanted to argue or to question her further, he didn’t do so. He only took her inside and allowed her what she asked.

She could only hope that his solicitous actions would continue after they were wed in just two short days.

Rafe was married.

Until recently, that was not a sentence he thought he would be saying that sunny Saturday. It wasn’t that he’d never thought he would marry, but he’d pictured it as something in the distant future with a faceless bride he hadn’t yet met.

But as he stared across the room at Serafina, standing beside her best friend Emma and his sister Annabelle, he realized for what must have been the tenth time in the last three hours that he was staring at his bride.

She was a beautiful bride as well. Her expensive gown fit her to perfection, the creamy color accentuating her porcelain skin, the veil perched upon the soft curls of her blonde hair. Her blue eyes flitted toward him, daring to pause on his face for only a moment before they darted back to her companions.

So he still made her nervous. It was something he had to remedy over time, despite how bewitching she was when high pink color flooded her cheeks. He wanted to make that color spread all over her lush body.

“We’re down to the last stragglers,” Crispin said as he brought over a glass of champagne.

Rafe took it and nodded as he looked at the riffraff left behind. Family still mingled, yes, but also a few half-drunk lords and ladies. Ones he didn’t know from a horse on the cart, of course. Friends had left long ago out of respect for the new couple and their odd circumstances.

“The stragglers who don’t want to leave a sandwich uneaten or a drink unimbibed.” He sighed. “Can you help me to move them along? I think it is high time I was alone with my new wife.” Crispin nodded, but made no move to do as he had agreed. Rafe tilted his head in question. “What is it?”

His brother faced him, shifting with what was obvious discomfort. “I wanted to tell you how sorry I am, Rafe. That you have to inherit these burdens is unfair. And I would be a help to you if I can be.”

Rafe smiled, a swell of love for Crispin rising up in him. “I have your sword, then?” he asked, teasing to diffuse the seriousness a touch.

Crispin returned the grin. “Always. And I will use it now to clear the room as you have demanded.”

He clapped a hand on Rafe’s shoulder and moved toward the remaining guests, speaking softly to them as he maneuvered them toward the exits.

It seemed to take Serafina a few moments to realize what was being done. When she did, she started and her gaze moved to Rafe again before she embraced her friend Emma and said goodbye to Emma’s husband. Rafe smiled as Annabelle hugged his new bride too. In a few short days, the women had seemed to bond and it made him happy to think his wife and his sister would be on good terms.

Annabelle took their mother’s arm and the two women moved toward him. Their mother sniffled, as she had all day.

“It was a beautiful ceremony, rushed though it may have been,” she said as she clasped his hand in hers.

He squeezed her fingers in response. “It was, Mama. Thank you for all you’ve done these past few days, both to counsel me and to make Serafina feel welcome in our family.”

She looked over her shoulder at her first daughter-in-law. “I like her, Rafe,” she said with a soft, reflective smile. “I hope you two will be happy.”

He barely contained a flinch. His poor mother had endured a great deal over the years between two wild sons who indulged too much and a husband who had been only marginally better before his untimely death. If she knew that he and Serafina had bargained for a false marriage driven only by the creation of heirs…

Well, she would roll her eyes and say his name in that tone that spoke of her disappointment.

“Thank you, Mama,” he said, briefly kissing first her cheek and then his sister’s. “Good night.”

They both repeated the farewell and headed for the foyer with his brother close behind. Rafe straightened his shoulders and moved to his bride across the suddenly empty room.

“Hello, Wife,” he said with a smile he hoped would reassure her.

Instead, she seemed to go stiff as a board. “Your Grace.”

“
Your
Grace,” he corrected with a laugh. “Duchess Hartholm—how does it sound after all these years?”

She didn’t smile, and her gaze went faraway. “Like someone else’s dream realized.”

Rafe shook his head. “Speaking of which, where is your father?”

She pursed her lips. “Off to crow and brag at the club, I suppose. He left an hour ago, foxed as can be. Did he not say something to you?”

“No,” Rafe admitted.

Her cheeks turned crimson. “Badly played, Father,” she muttered beneath her breath.

Rafe leaned in. “I’m not offended,” he reassured her. “And it’s just as well he is gone.” Rafe offered her an arm. “I think we’re both ready to have the rabble out of the house.”

Her eyes went a little wide, though she didn’t resist as he led her from the room. He took her upstairs to the chamber he had only taken over just a day before. It still contained the remnants of Cyril’s life, down to the clothing in the closet, but the bed was big and comfortable and suddenly that was all that mattered to Rafe.

He released Serafina and shut the door behind them. She moved to the middle of the room and stared at the bed, cheeks pale and hands clenched behind her.

He gritted his teeth. He would have to be slow and gentle with her, for she was an innocent. That wasn’t his normal indulgence. But he wanted Serafina to like what they would do together, not see it as the awful duty she had described just a few days before.

He moved to stand in front of her and saw that she her entire body vibrated like a leaf in a strong wind. He frowned and reached out to take one of her cold hands.

“I promise you, you have nothing to fear.”

She turned her pale face, her frown telling him she didn’t believe him. “This is your right, Rafe.” Her voice was soft, but strong. “I have no intention of stopping you.”

He shook his head. She remained so reluctant, as if she had been told by someone that sex was an act to fear. It made him want to double his efforts to make this a night she would not soon forget.

He reached out and ran a hand along her uncovered collarbone. Her skin was like satin, and he nearly moaned with the feel of her. He wanted to taste that skin, to feel it pressed beneath him, writhing atop him, arching to his caresses.

And soon she would be.

“I’m going to unfasten your dress,” he warned, meeting her gaze as he found the line of pearl buttons that closed her wedding gown along the front.

She stood stone still, her line of sight darting away, her cheeks pinkening as he unhooked the buttons one by one. The dress drooped open, revealing the elaborate undergarments that had been designed for her special day.

Normally the reason he liked the day’s fashions was because they allowed such easy access. But as he pushed the gown down around her hips, he caught his breath at the sight of Serafina standing in only a lace corset and a short shift. Her stockings were fastened to the corset.

He wanted to tear the clothes away. He wanted to pin her hands to the wall above her head and rut with her like an out of control animal. He wanted to claim her until she writhed in ecstasy and forgot everything but him.

Instead, he bent his head and gently brushed his lips against her shoulder. He nuzzled up the side of her exposed neck, not tasting, just teasing.

She tensed even further beneath him, her breath coming hard and fast as he wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her against him. Her body molded to his, her curves fitting him like they were made to do so, and he let out a deep, guttural moan of pleasure that he couldn’t control.

“By God, you are something,” he whispered against her ear as one hand glided from her hip to her stomach, then up and up until he brushed his fingers in the valley between her breasts. She made a tiny whimper at the touch, and he smiled and let his hand return to her stomach, her hip, her thigh. There he unhooked first one stocking, then the other.

He dropped to his knees before her and began to roll the silk away from her smooth legs, over her knee, over her calf, and lifted her foot to remove it and her slipper at once. He repeated the action on her other leg and then leaned in to kiss her bare knee.

He looked up her body to find her wide-eyed and pale, watching his every movement. Her expression was hard to read, but her breath came fast and hard, echoing in the quiet of the chamber.

“Sera,” he whispered as he got to his feet. “Sweet, sweet Sera.”

She nodded.

“I want to make you feel so good,” he promised, dropping his lips to hers for another deep kiss.

She relaxed now, finally letting her arms come around his neck, clinging to him as she opened herself to his touch. He smiled against her lips.

When she was almost limp with the kiss, he went to work on her corset, unlacing the back, loosening the silken ties until it drooped between them.

He broke the kiss and stepped back to tug the apparatus away. Serafina gasped, as if surprised he had undressed her without her knowledge. Good, that meant she had been momentarily lost in the pleasure. He wanted to keep her that way.

He tossed the corset aside and stared at her. Her silken, rosy chemise was the only thing left to cover her now. A flimsy bit of fabric with thin straps that barely skimmed her slender thighs.

With a possessive growl, he put his arms around her again, but this time he let his hands glide along her spine, push the fabric up, cup her bare backside as he kissed her yet again.

She let out a gasp of surprise when he lifted her. He carried her to the bed and laid her out against the pillows. She blinked up at him as he lay down beside her and rested one hand lightly on her tightly clenched thighs.

“Your skin puts the finest silk to shame,” he said, massaging the taut muscles of her legs with one hand.

She turned her face away, but her red cheeks spoke volumes of her embarrassment. That was a feeling he wanted to wipe away entirely.

“Your body,” he said, leaning in closer, pressing a kiss to her collarbone, “is meant to be worshipped, Sera.” He kissed lower, just above where her chemise covered her breasts. “To be adored. And I’m going to do that tonight.”

Now he dipped his fingers below the chemise edge and gently stroked her already-hard nipple. She gasped and arched up beneath his touch. He grinned in satisfaction. He had begun to replace fear with sensation, desire. And there was so much more to come.

“I’m going to make you quake,” he continued, and pressed his mouth to the hard ridge of her nipple, outlined beneath the silky cloth. He sucked until the fabric went nearly transparent and she gave a strangled cry.

“I’m going to make you come,” he growled, pushing the chemise up so that he could finally see her naked breasts.

They were small but perfect, with dusky rose tips that were dark and hard with her mounting desire. He cupped them both, loving the feel of them in his palms. He lowered his mouth and began to lick between them, pinching the nipples until she made a garbled sound of pleasure and lifted her hands to tangle them in his hair and draw him closer.

He chuckled against her flesh, but followed her silent order. He chose the right breast and began to suckle, gently at first, with teasing licks, then harder and with greater purpose. Just when she began crying out in pleasure, he switched to the opposite breast and repeated the action.

Her hips lifted beneath his shoulders, asking for what she did not know enough to request with her lips. And he so wanted to give her what she desired. But not until she was ready.

He continued to suck her nipple, gently massing her breast with one hand and with the other, he traced the length of her body, stopping only when he covered her sex with his fingers.

She bucked beneath him and stared at him with wild, wide eyes.

“Shhh,” he soothed, thrumming over her nipple with his opposite thumb.

She didn’t respond, but watched him cup her, stroking the outside of her sex, feeling the wetness that was beginning to grow within her, threatening to overflow.

She was almost ready.

He licked her nipple as he gently spread the outer lips of her sex. He licked her again while he let his thick thumb traced her entrance. She was so hot, so wet. He pressed against her clitoris and she cried out above him, her hands clenching handfuls of coverlet.