‘It was very kind of you to buy it for me. Very generous.’
He said, ‘You were gone when I awoke this morning. I want to know what I did to make you run away in the night. Did my passion frighten you?’
‘No! It—it was not you, Quinn. You were all kindness.’ He gave an exasperated hiss and she hurried on. ‘I... I enjoyed your attentions. More than I can say. I have never known anything quite as wonderful.’ She was thankful for the veil covering her cheeks, hiding her blushes. ‘I thought the bad memories had been exorcised, but when I woke, it was so very dark. All I could see was shadows. And I panicked.’
She bowed her head, remembering how cold her own bed had been. How empty. She had curled up beneath the covers, shivering and feeling thoroughly wretched.
‘I thought as much.’ He tipped his hat towards the occupants of a smart barouche coming the other way, but did not stop. ‘That is why I sent a note up with your breakfast, rather than coming in person. Your room is your sanctuary, Serena. I will not enter uninvited.’ He reached out and briefly put his huge, gloved hand over hers. ‘As long as it was not my...attentions that distressed you.’
Serena felt another swell of gratitude for his understanding. She tucked her hand in his arm and leaned against him.
‘No, Quinn, you have never done anything to distress me. I just wish I could be a...a proper wife to you.’
‘We have all our lives to work on that.’ He flashed a smile at her. ‘But for now, we shall continue as we are. I am yours to command, madam. But you must trust me, Serena. I will never ask more of you than you wish to give.’
She squeezed his arm and rubbed her cheek against his sleeve. ‘You are a good man, Rufus Quinn.’
‘Nonsense.’ His gruff response was followed by a growl of annoyance. ‘By heaven, let us get out of here. Damned crowds and it is not even the fashionable hour. The devil only knows how you stand it!’
* * *
The worsening weather brought more families back to town. Hostesses began to find their reception rooms filling up again and Quinn persuaded Serena that they should hold a party of their own.
‘It need only be a small affair,’ he told her. ‘You may invite whomsoever you wish. Although we should include your brother Henry and sister-in-law.’
‘Yes, I suppose we must.’ A shadow of uncertainty flickered over her face. ‘Dorothea has written to tell me they are returning to town at the end of the week.’
‘You are not looking forward to that?’
‘Dorothea disapproves of any sort of scandal.’ Her hand fluttered. ‘She disapproves of me.’
‘If she had taken better care of you in the first place, there would be no scandal.’ Quinn finished his coffee and rose from the table. Serena was still looking pensive and he stopped behind her and dropped a hand on her shoulder. ‘You are Lady Quinn now, Serena. If your sister-in-law annoys you, tell her to go to the devil.’
That made her laugh. ‘Yes, that is what you would do, Quinn, is it not? One would expect nothing less of the rudest man in London!’
She looked up at him, her dark eyes alight with merriment, and he caught his breath. He wanted to bend and capture those smiling lips, to kiss her senseless, then carry her off to bed and make love to her for the rest of the day. Even as his body reacted at the thought he saw the laughter die from Serena’s face. And she shrank away from him, blushing violently.
‘G-goodness, is that the time? I promised Cook I would discuss tonight’s dinner with her, so I had best hurry and finish my breakfast...’
She began to cut the toast on her plate into tiny squares. Quinn stepped away. She had shown him more clearly than any words that his passion frightened her. Oh, she had denied it when he had asked her outright, but if that was the case why did she shy away from him? Every day he looked for some sign that she desired him. Every night he strained to hear the sound of the connecting door opening, but it remained firmly, obstinately shut. He had promised he would not rush her and he would hold to that, even though it was becoming more and more unbearable.
‘I have correspondence that requires an answer,’ he muttered, turning to the door. ‘If you will excuse me.’
* * *
Serena kept her eyes on her plate, listening to Quinn’s footsteps as he went out and closed the door behind him. How had she ever kept her seat, when she wanted so desperately to throw herself into his arms? The impulse had been strong and so sudden that it frightened her. Even now she was trembling so much she could hardly wield her knife.
And the worst part of it all was Quinn’s disappointment. He wanted her, she read that quite clearly in his eyes. She was his wife and he had every right to expect to take his pleasure, but he was too much of a gentleman. It must be her wish to go to his bed and she did wish it, although for some reason she could never put it into words or actions. Every evening when she retired to her room she looked at the closed door between them, wanting desperately to walk through to him, but fear held her back.
Fear of the dark shadows that reminded her of Sir Timothy choking the life from her, fear of the terrifying panic that welled up, that made her want to scream and rip and tear at Quinn, to reject him and run away rather than allowing him to love her. And something else, too. The fear of irrevocably committing herself to this marriage. To committing to Quinn. Until it was truly consummated he might still walk away, find a wife who was worthy of him.
Serena pushed her plate away, her appetite quite gone. She had panicked again, blushed like a schoolgirl and shrunk away from Quinn. She closed her eyes. If only she had shown him by a word, a look, how much she wanted him then he might even now be covering her with kisses and making her body sing.
‘I beg your pardon, Lady Quinn.’ She looked up to find Dunnock hovering in the doorway. ‘Cook was asking if you were ready to see her, because she was hoping to go to the market later.’
‘Yes, yes of course.’ Serena rose, pushing her own concerns away. ‘I will go to her now.’
* * *
By the time Serena finished discussing menus with Cook, Quinn had gone out. He left word that he was dining out but would return in time to escort her to the theatre. She was disappointed, for the desire she had felt earlier was still there, a nagging whisper deep down. Heavens, she thought, a wry smile tugging at her mouth, how unfashionable, to yearn for a husband’s company!
When she saw the clothes laid out on the bed, her new coral-coloured silk gown and the velvet opera cloak, Serena felt a frisson of excitement, as if this was her very first ball. Perhaps tonight would be different. She and Quinn both enjoyed the theatre and she was hopeful that afterwards...anticipation made her stomach swoop. Hope. She was hopeful. How long had it been since she had felt like this?
Serena stared into the looking glass as Polly dressed her hair and found herself smiling. It was as if she was waking from a bad dream, rediscovering the zest for life that had once been natural to her. And she had Quinn to thank for it. The curl of desire was still there, working its way around her body.
‘There, my lady.’ Polly stood back to admire her handiwork. ‘You look as fine as fivepence, if you don’t mind me saying.’
‘Not at all.’ Serena laughed.
She turned her head this way and that, regarding her reflection in the mirror. Her thick tresses were gathered up into a neat topknot with a few guinea-gold curls framing her face.
‘Indeed,’ said a deep voice behind her. ‘As fine as fivepence!’
‘Quinn!’
Her smile grew wider as she turned to see him standing in the doorway. He had changed into his evening attire of blue frock coat and white satin waistcoat, his muscular legs straining against the tight-fitting breeches and silk stockings. As he walked towards her a diamond sparkled from the folds of his snow-white cravat. That and the heavy gold signet ring, were his only ornaments, but Serena thought this only enhanced the magnificence
of his physique.
‘I had no idea it was so late.’ Her hand went to the ties of her wrap. ‘I have yet to put on my gown—’
‘We have plenty of time yet.’
Serena glanced at her maid. ‘Leave us, Polly, if you please. I will ring when I need you.’
When they were alone, Quinn came closer and held out a velvet box. ‘I thought you might like this.’
Intrigued, she took the box and opened it.
‘Oh.’ She gazed down at a full set of coral and gold jewellery. ‘It is a perfect match for my robe. How clever of you.’
‘I saw this parure in Rundell’s today and since I knew you intended to wear your new gown...’
She put the box down on the dressing table and lifted out the comb. Carefully she nestled it against the topknot, the coral enhancing the deep gold of her hair. The ear drops followed, but when she reached for the necklace, three strings of fine coral beads, Quinn stopped her.
‘Let me.’ She kept very still as he placed the necklace about her neck. His fingers brushed her nape as he fastened the catch and her mouth dried. ‘There. I hope you are not offended that I did not buy you more diamonds? I could have done so, I know that some women would settle for nothing less, but I thought that you—’
She lifted one hand to the necklace—the coral was warm against her fingers.
‘No,’ she said softly, meeting his eyes in the mirror. ‘I have the diamonds you gave me as a wedding gift—I do not need more. This parure will set off the gown perfectly. Thank you.’
His hands moved to her shoulders and this time she did not shy away. Instead she turned her head and dropped a kiss on to the back of his fingers. His grip tightened and she felt his lips on her neck.
‘Mayhap we should forgo the theatre this evening,’ he murmured, his breath warm on her ear.
‘Perhaps we should,’ she whispered, amazed at her own daring.
He met her eyes in the mirror. ‘Surely it would be a pity to waste all this effort. I know how much you wanted to see Macready playing Othello.’
‘I think...’ Serena swallowed. ‘I think I would prefer to go to bed with you than see Mr Macready.’
Laughing, he pulled her up into his arms and kissed her, a long, unhurried kiss that turned her bones to water.
‘Very well then. If you are sure.’
The blaze in his eyes set her heart racing even faster. She touched his cheek. ‘I am sure, Quinn.’
He dragged her close for another searing kiss that left her dizzy. How could she have ever thought herself safe with this man?
‘Well, madam, should it be your bed, or will you risk the shadows of mine?’
Held close against Quinn’s chest she felt light-hearted and reckless.
‘I think it must be yours, sir. Let us not waste time moving everything from mine.’
He threw back his head and gave a shout of laughter. ‘You are quite wanton, Lady Quinn, and I love you for it.’
Her senses reeled. She felt quite faint. Love. Had he really said that?
He had his arm about her and was leading her through the connecting door. Pressed close against him, she could feel the barely contained power of the man. It was, she thought, like being too close to a powder keg.
Serena’s cheeks burned when she saw the valet was in the room and she looked down, shrinking closer to Quinn.
He said coolly, ‘You may go, Shere. I shall not need you again tonight. And you may tell Lady Quinn’s maid she need not wait up.’
She heard the door close softly behind the valet, then Quinn was pulling her round into his arms. Slowly, with infinite care and myriad kisses, he unlaced her stays and removed every scrap of clothing until she was standing before him, naked save for the coral jewellery. Slowly he removed the comb and pins from her hair, watching as the heavy silken curtain fell about her shoulders.
‘My Venus,’ he murmured, gazing at her in a way that sent a delicious shiver running through her body.
He dropped his head to kiss her breasts, but Serena felt at a disadvantage. She scrabbled at the buttons of Quinn’s coat and soon his clothes joined hers in an untidy pile on the floor. At last only the snowy shirt was between Serena and Quinn’s glorious body. She plucked at it impatiently, feasting her eyes on him as he drew it off over his head. He pulled her close, skin to skin, then scooped her up into his arms.
‘There is always the daybed,’ he murmured, nodding towards the couch in one corner of the room. ‘If you would feel safer there. It is your choice, Serena.’
A vague image of the inn flickered through her head, but she blinked and it was gone, it had lost its terror because this was not Hitchin. This was Quinn’s room and when she looked towards his bed now all she remembered was the pleasure of his caresses. She slid an arm about his neck, smiling up at him.
‘The bed, if you please.’
Holding her eyes with his own, he laid her gently down on the covers. She reached for him and he measured his length beside her, bringing his mouth to hers for a long, languorous kiss that drew out her very soul. Her hands roamed over him, marvelling at the silky skin over iron-hard muscle, and when he began a series of tantalising kisses down her neck she drove her fingers through his hair, clutching his head as his tongue worked its magic on her breasts.
They swelled, tightening beneath the teasing attention of his mouth, but this time she was not prepared to lie passive while he pleasured her. She began her own exploration, using her hands and her mouth, revelling in the salty spiciness of his skin as she worked her way across his chest and downwards, exploring, teasing, learning what excited him and how to make him groan with pleasure beneath her touch. He reached for her, drawing her close, sliding his fingers over her skin and down to the aching heat between her thighs. Urgent desire spiralled through her and she moved restlessly against his hand.
‘Go on,’ she pleaded. ‘Go on, Quinn. Finish this!’
He rolled her on to her back and covered her. His fingers slid away and she felt him enter her. She bit her lip, anticipating pain, but there was none. Quinn was moving gently, slowly and Serena lifted her hips to push him deeper. She moved with him, matching his rhythm, her fingers digging into his shoulders as the now-familiar excitement took over. With each thrust he was carrying her higher. She was flying, soaring, and as she reached her pinnacle he tensed and held her there. They shared a brief, wondrous moment of ecstasy when his shout of triumph mingled with her own cries before she fell into joyous, heady oblivion and beyond. She subsided at last, trembling against him, and Quinn held her, a gentle giant, keeping her safe, cocooned against the world.
* * *
Serena stretched luxuriously and opened her eyes. It was not yet dawn. Quinn’s naked body was wrapped around hers, his regular breathing soft against her neck. She felt a rush of emotion, a mix of happiness and affection so strong that tears filled her eyes. Wonderingly, she reached out and touched his cheek. It was rough with morning stubble.
‘I love you,’ she murmured.
He did not stir. She kissed his lips and his arms tightened around her. Smiling, she snuggled closer and sank back into a deep, dreamless sleep.
* * *
When Serena woke again, the sunlight shining into the room told her it was morning. A delicious thrill ran down her spine when she remembered how they had spent the night and she turned towards the large, warm body beside her. Quinn. Her husband. A smile tugged at her mouth as she watched him sleeping. His eyelids fluttered, the dark lashes lifted and his hazel eyes stared at her. He raised himself on to one elbow.
‘Can you not sleep? Is anything wrong?’
‘I was merely thinking how good you have been to me.’
One eyebrow went up. ‘And that prevents you sleeping?’
‘No,’ she said, smiling. ‘That is because I am not accustomed to sharing a bed with a man.’
‘Ah, I see. And you find it an unpleasant experience?’
‘On the contrary.’ She felt a blush spreading through her, even to her toes as she added daringly, ‘I should like to do it a great deal more.’
‘Then you shall,’ he muttered, pulling her against his hard, aroused body. ‘As long as it is only with me!’
* * *
The following week passed in a happy daze for Serena. It was mid-October, but the sun seemed brighter, the days warmer than they had been all summer, and she found herself singing as she went about the house. Something had shifted inside her. There was no longer a black cloud of despair weighing heavily on her spirits and she began to take pleasure in living. She knew it was due in no small part to her husband.
Just the thought of Quinn made her smile, but it was not only the nights spent in his bed. She delighted in his company and could only regret that the more she was accepted into London society, the less she saw of Quinn. At first she had barely noticed the change in attitude towards her, but her own notoriety had been eclipsed by fresh gossip about Sir Timothy, as Miss Downing lost no time in explaining when Serena took her up in her phaeton for a drive in the park.
‘He is pursuing the widow of a wealthy mill owner,’ Elizabeth told her, with obvious relish. ‘It is the talk of the town. They were at Covent Garden Theatre last week, for Mr Macready’s Othello. Perhaps you saw them?’
‘We did not go, after all,’ said Serena, a rosy blush stealing through her as she thought of what she and Quinn had done instead.
‘Well, I have seen her,’ declared Elizabeth. ‘She is a handsome creature with quantities of black curls and a passion for jewellery. One cannot help but notice her, for she is very loud and...and flashy. She is from the north, you see,’ she went on, as if this explained everything. ‘You will not find them at any respectable society parties. But he takes her to the Subscription Balls, where positively anyone can buy a ticket.’
‘But who is the woman?’ Serena was unable to resist asking. ‘Is she so very unsuitable?’
‘Oh, yes. Her name is Mrs Hopwood and she positively reeks of trade and bad breeding,’ said Elizabeth cheerfully. ‘Mama and I saw her shopping with Sir Timothy in New Bond Street and one could not help but overhear their conversation. Her voice is quite coarse, you know, her style of dress designed to attract attention and she was dripping with ornament! She looked like a jeweller’s trade card! Sir Timothy was fawning all over her.’ She shuddered. ‘It was truly grotesque.’
Beauty and the Brooding Lord Page 19