by Gaelen Foley
“So what do we do now?” she asked. “I’m afraid you may have to explain the entire plan to me again, now that I can think.”
A husky laugh escaped him. “It’s simple. Next I introduce you to your father.”
“Oh.” She nodded, marveling to think of how far they had come. From his initial refusal to get involved at all in her search, now he would be doing the introductions.
“However,” he said, “there’s someone else I want you to meet first.”
“Oh? Who? Azrael, I only want to be with you right now.”
“Trust me. Wait here. It’s a surprise.” He spilled her off his lap and then pulled his shirt on over his head, tucking it into the waistband of his trousers as he headed for the door.
“Azrael, who is it and where are you going?”
“Just be patient for once. And for heaven’s sake, fix your clothes.” He sent her a mock leer. “You look like you were just ravished out of your mind.”
“Because I was,” she said, laughing.
He sent her a roguish little smile and left the room.
A happy sigh escaped her. Dutifully, she sauntered over to a mirror on the wall and attempted to recover her modesty. It was easy enough to pull her bodice back up, though her skirts were wrinkly. Well, that could be blamed on a long day’s travel, couldn’t it?
Not so easy to fix was her mussed hair, and only time would subdue the glowing blush in her cheeks. She looked thoroughly relaxed, which a person probably shouldn’t be in their situation.
The telltale signs of their tryst were abundant. Her lips were still swollen with his kisses…
She shuddered, shocked to realize she could’ve done that again with him already. What on earth had the man done to her, turning her into some sort of wanton hussy?
Yet she’d never been happier.
By the time Azrael returned a few minutes later, she had redone her hair into a simple knot, refastened her dress, and splashed a bit of the drinking water she had found in a pitcher on the sideboard on her face to try to cool the flames in her cheeks and revive herself from her blissful drowsiness.
She also took the candle Azrael had lit and used it to light a few more around the room. It was growing quite dark out now. Indeed, she was suddenly quite hungry for supper.
But the torpor he had lulled her into by drowning her senses in complete, overwhelming pleasure fell away when the door opened and Azrael returned—with a leopard on a leash.
Serena gasped and braced herself against the pianoforte behind her. “Azrael?”
“Now, now, don’t worry,” he soothed, “it’s quite safe. I wanted you to meet Raja.”
Serena glanced from Azrael to his gorgeous but terrifying pet. “We’ve met, remember? He nearly ate me.”
“And whose fault was that?” he replied with amusement. “Don’t worry, he’s friendly, at least when I’m around. Come, I want you to be friends.”
Serena stayed exactly where she was, but she watched the animal with deepening fascination.
Raja prowled silently alongside his master—if such a princely creature could truly be said to have a master. Raja leaped up onto the couch near the fireplace and sat there, at eye level with her.
Thankfully, the leopard was still six or seven feet away from her, but as they studied each other, she noted that the big cat’s collar of white kid leather was made to look like a cravat.
“I see he’s dressed for the occasion.”
“Yes, I had to make sure he had a proper Town wardrobe.”
A nervous laugh escaped her. “I don’t know about this, Azrael.”
“Darling, you trust me, don’t you?”
“You, yes. The wild animal, not entirely. But…he is a magnificent creature.”
Azrael scratched the leopard’s head between his ears. “He’s a good boy. It’s all right, come closer. I promise you he won’t bite you. Can’t you see he’s in a good mood?”
Serena cocked a glance at her future husband, but, not wishing to look like a coward, she finally pressed away from the pianoforte and approached, one small step at a time.
Raja did not look entirely impressed with her. He lifted his paw like an ordinary house cat and nibbled one of the leathery black pads as though it itched.
She gazed at the creature’s fine head, solid chest, and velveteen ears.
Azrael was stroking Raja’s back, which was good, Serena thought. It seemed to make the monster calm.
“He’s happy to be out of his room,” he said. “This is his waking-up time. He sleeps during the day for the most part.”
Raja set his paw, which was as big as her hand, down on the couch again and looked straight at Serena.
She froze momentarily, but the expression in those greenish-yellow eyes was placid. Raja had white whiskers, and he twitched them at her, his rounded ears perking up.
She glanced at Azrael, hesitating. “Are you sure about this?”
“Absolutely certain. It’s only right that you should be great chums. Until you came along, after all, I could say with confidence this was my closest friend.”
That offhand confession sounded so innocent, almost boyish, that she did not have the heart to refuse. If this animal mattered so much to her beloved, then she would do her best to befriend the beast.
Warily, she closed the distance between herself and Raja, praying the big cat would not grab her by the throat. But her eyes widened, for she’d just stepped close enough to hear the big brute purring.
“He’s purring!” she said, pointing at the leopard.
“He’s happy, I told you. Hold your hand out flat and let him sniff you.”
Serena decided to offer the beast her left hand, just in case. The right one was considerably more important to her. She stretched out her palm, her heart thumping, and Raja stretched his flat nose toward her fingers.
She held her breath, but a smile of sheer wonder crooked across her face as she felt the long, snowy whiskers tickle her fingers and palm. She felt a short, warm puff of breath on her skin, then Raja lost interest and sat up straight again.
“Oh my goodness,” she said, pulling her hand back and tucking it against her chest.
Azrael smiled from ear to ear with approval. “He likes you.”
She looked at him in doubt.
“Here, touch his fur. I guarantee you, you’ve never felt anything like it.”
Still hesitant, she went around to the cat’s side, keeping Azrael between herself and Raja. Finally, she worked up her courage to reach out and touch the leopard’s withers and, at once, she drew in her breath.
Raja’s sleek, shiny fur was softer than the richest velvet.
He chewed his paw again, as supremely indifferent as Beau Brummel to the universal admiration he inspired.
Serena began petting the animal, barely daring to breathe. At this close range, she could see faint rosettes typical of an ordinary-colored leopard. They were just visible beneath the ebony fur around his belly.
Her eyebrows shot up when Raja’s large pink tongue flapped up and licked his nose. She caught a glimpse of a white fang as long as her index finger, and nearly lost her courage then, but she held her ground because Azrael did not react in any manner that signaled a warning.
He scratched Raja behind one of his ears, and the big cat tilted his head into the caress just like Wesley would’ve done.
Charmed as she was, Serena did not ask what Azrael would do with the animal once the two of them had small children running around the house. It would hardly be safe. But the moment was too magical to speak and break the spell.
“What do you think?” Azrael murmured.
“He’s beautiful,” she said, “and so are you.” She left off petting the cat and leaned near to press a soft kiss to Azrael’s temple.
He turned and gazed at her, as mysterious and untamed in his own way as his large, deadly companion.
Just then, Raja decided to jump down off the couch.
Though still on his leash
, he lay down on the floor for a moment, then rolled onto his back and began playing with his own tail, biting the tip of it like a giant black kitten.
Serena laughed in delight at his antics.
Azrael grinned and leaned down to scratch the big cat’s belly. Raja seem to love the attention, and bit his master’s wrist gently.
“Oh my God, he’ll take your hand off.”
“No, he’d never hurt me. He thinks I’m his brother. Or possibly his mother, I’m not sure,” he added with a chuckle.
Watching him, Serena shook her head and fell in love with her eccentric duke all over again, even more deeply than before.
She could not believe her good fortune. She was tickled, just thinking about what sort of interesting life they would have together.
Provided, of course, they both survived the coming days.
CHAPTER 19
Blood Ties
Azrael despised the task that brought him out the next day, introducing Serena to her natural father.
He knew she was nervous, as well she should be, as he escorted her into Lord Stiver’s mansion in St. James’s the next afternoon.
The stalwart Brody and Porter attended them as far as the front door, but it would have been irregular to bring one’s own footmen inside. It would only draw suspicion, so after seeing them to the entrance, the formidable pair returned to wait with the coach.
Azrael did not expect any problems with this first visit, in any case. He knew Stiver was excited to meet his grown daughter at last.
As a reflection of himself, Serena’s very existence, not to mention her beauty, appealed to the man’s narcissism.
On Azrael’s prior visit here, he had told his former guardian that he’d heeded his advice from the night of the Bonfire Ball and sought to rekindle their childhood match. That he’d found he couldn’t resist her.
At least that much was true.
Stiver had been delighted to hear that destiny had overruled Lady Dunhaven’s efforts to keep Serena away from her Promethean heritage, as he called it.
Azrael let the devil assume whatever he liked. But perhaps destiny did have a hand of some sort in this.
As they walked up to the front door of the earl’s stately mansion, right on time for their agreed-upon appointment, Serena clung to Azrael’s forearm, her face pale beneath the brim of her satin bonnet. He gave her gloved hand a reassuring squeeze.
He could certainly understand why she was nervous, but she need not be, he thought. To be sure, she would dazzle Stiver or anyone, arrayed in the especially elegant finery she had donned in honor of the occasion.
The future Duchess of Rivenwood looked gorgeous in what she called a very special gown, with small amber flowers on a white ground. The flowers had a subtle golden luster that shimmered softly when she walked.
With this she wore an open spencer of amber silk that brought out the gold in her eyes. But just to keep things interesting—she being Serena—she had chosen red shoes, tied a red ribbon around her bonnet, and draped an India shawl with red and gold in it across her shoulders with such picturesque ease.
He didn’t usually think about it much, but she was the sort of aristocratic lady the fashion writers followed religiously in their detailed explanations to their readers each month about what the ton was wearing.
Azrael still couldn’t believe that she was his.
He noticed she had a strange look on her face. “What’s wrong?”
“Never mind. It’s absurd.”
“What is it, darling?” he whispered.
She glanced up at him, hesitating, and he could see in her soulful eyes how conflicted she was about this meeting.
He knew she already despised Stiver for using her mother as he had, but he realized then that, tenderhearted as she was, a small part of her sincerely wanted to know the earl.
For all his faults, the man was her father, after all.
Azrael’s heart sank at the hope in her eyes, but there was no time for more discussion, for at that moment, the door opened. Stiver’s musclebound brute of a butler ushered them in right away.
They were on time and expected.
As they stepped over the threshold, Azrael just hoped Serena did not grow too fond of the earl—let herself be deceived by his surface charm. Because by now, he knew what the Order had planned for Lord Stiver and his henchmen. The three agents and the big, gruff Highlander had been making their arrangements behind the scenes.
Frustration welled in him. He hated having to involve her in this deception and risk her getting hurt either physically or in her affections, but what choice did they have?
She was the only person who could do this. The Prometheans had intended to use Serena as the lure to cement Azrael to their cause, but instead, she would be the lure for Stiver that would bring them all down.
Shoving their true, dark motives out of his mind, Azrael escorted Serena through the earl’s residence, keeping a pleasant smile on his face.
The butler led them across the black-and-white checkerboard floor of the entrance hall and up the sinuously curved marble staircase of Stiver’s palatial house.
The rooms they passed were painted in pastel hues and decorated in the spidery Etruscan style, one of the ancient classical forms. Like so many of their homes, the interior mimicked a pagan temple—a temple dedicated to self.
Which was exactly why Azrael had not chosen it for his own. He did not share their desire to become a god.
If anything, he figured he needed the churchlike trappings of the gothic style as a constant warning against his bloodline’s tendency toward evil. He could only figure the gargoyles must be doing their job.
Serena released his arm as they mounted the stairs. Besotted as he was, his heart clenched when she carefully took off her bonnet. Why this little ritual of hers touched him every time, he could not put into words.
He simply found her adorable.
She caught him gazing at her, and smiled. He winked at her to cheer her up, because she still looked slightly terrified.
Hell, even his heart was pounding over how this meeting would go. The stakes could not be higher. Stiver could not be permitted to catch any whiff of deception.
Earlier, Azrael had done his best to prepare Serena about what to expect, but, as for her sire, it turned out that Stiver already knew a lot about her. Well aware that this raven-haired belle of the ton was his offspring, he had monitored her from a distance for years.
Indeed, he was quite proud of her, and had admitted to Azrael with a chuckle that he hated not being able to brag to all the world that she was his.
“Who in his right mind would ever believe that muttonhead Dunny could’ve ever fathered such a splendid creature, anyway?” Stiver had said when Azrael called on him a few days ago to share their happy news.
Presently, His Lordship received them in the drawing room. After a quick knock, the butler went in, swung the door open wide, and announced them: “His Grace, the Duke of Rivenwood, and Lady Serena Parker.”
“Come in, come in, both of you!” Stiver said warmly, walking toward them with a smile.
It was easy to see where she got her fashion sense—not just from her mother, but from Stiver as well. The earl was as impeccably dressed and groomed as ever, from his slicked-back salt-and-pepper hair to his smart daytime attire. He’d always had a bit of the dandy in him.
The butler bowed out behind them, and Stiver stood beaming as Serena ventured toward him.
“So. You are she,” he greeted her with real warmth. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, practically ignoring Azrael.
“Yes, my lord.” Serena dropped a quick curtsy. He had never seen his bold lady looking so meek and unsure.
“Lord Stiver, allow me to present Lady Serena Parker, my fiancée, and your natural daughter.”
“I am so very pleased to meet you at long last, my dear.” Stiver took both her hands gently, leaned down, and kissed Serena on the cheek. “You are most welcome in my home.”
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She stared at him with wonder.
They stood in silent recognition for a long moment, studying each other, holding hands. Azrael dropped his gaze to the floor, feeling sick about the loss that he was setting her up for.
“I’m very pleased to meet you, sir,” she said at last, barely audible.
“You may call me Father if you like while we’re alone.”
She said nothing, but Azrael gathered she was slightly bowled over by his elegance.
Stiver gestured at the seating nearby. “Come, let us have a chat and get to know each other. Would you care for refreshments?”
She shook her head, declining with a smile, but walked across the room, the flowers on her dress glistening, and lowered herself with regal elegance to the dainty armchair.
“She is even lovelier up close, and so charming,” Stiver remarked with a proud glance at Azrael.
“Thank you, sir,” Serena murmured.
“My, but the two of you make a very handsome couple.” He glanced at Azrael. “You, light as your father; she with her ebony locks, so like Mariah in her youth. You are like the day and the night come together. It’s very powerful.”
Serena sent Azrael a discreet, startled glance at the earl’s flowery language.
Stiver moved to the chair beside her, but gestured to Azrael. “Won’t you sit, Your Grace?”
“I’m fine here, thanks.” Azrael folded his arms across his chest and leaned a hip on the arm of the couch nearby.
Just in case Stiver asked, he had already made up his mind he was not leaving her alone with the man under any circumstances. They would have to throw him out bodily.
“So, my dear, you are how old now?”
“Twenty-one. I’ll be twenty-two next month.”
“Ah, that’s right, you were born in December.”
She smiled, though Azrael could sense her awkwardness. “Yes, my lord. Not quite a Christmas babe, but close.”
“Ah, there are far more interesting holidays in December than Christmas, as Azrael can tell you. But you’ll learn all about that in due time, my lovely Serena. I’m the one who chose that name for you, did you know that?”