Once Upon a Duke

by Sandra Masters

  Each group went in separate directions.

  Serena took the lead as they entered the Tea Shoppe. “The sweetest confections are here, but our Mrs. Partridge makes the best pasties this side of the pond. Is that not so?”

  “My lady, you jest, but I’ll confess they are good. May I bring a selection?”

  “Yes. These ladies are my guests and I desire to acquaint them with the delights of our countryside, so of course, we came to you.”

  “You are a flatterer, but thank you, Lady Serena. We are glad to welcome all of you.”

  “Perhaps two or three pots of your imported teas for the ladies to sample?” Serena requested.

  “Of course, milady. I’ve just made some meringues and will bring them out too.”

  Serena scanned the room and noted shelves in the Gift Section that featured fancy figurines. “Excuse me, ladies. I see some porcelain pieces and would like to look at them more closely. Would any of you care to join me?” She rose from her chair. The other ladies chose to remain at their table and chatter.

  Mrs. Partridge brought out the selection of teas while waiting for the meringues. The women were anxious to sample the expensive varieties of teas. She brought out the tea caddies and unlocked them, and explained each one in detail.

  Serena walked toward the ceramics and saw a bride and groom topper for a wedding cake. It looked familiar. She had no idea what happened to the one on her own wedding cake when she married Trystan. Almost afraid to touch, she hesitated. Painful memories assailed her. Everyone told her she was a beautiful bride so fortunate to have found a good and loving man. Her happiness on that eventful day lasted until they retired to their suite.

  Hah. Was that ever a canard?

  She dizzied at the thought, her hands shook and her head swam. Serena steadied herself on the cabinet door.

  She prayed she wouldn’t swoon and asked for strength. Her past no longer existed. Now she had Geoffrey—but did she, really? Was she once again a fool lured by the skills of a rake?

  She reached out, but couldn’t bring herself to touch the wedding topper.

  After her husband’s death, Henry didn’t seem surprised at the event and circumstances of the duel. When she confessed the horrific details to her Aunt Meredith, the generous woman endowed her with a significant trust. A shrewd London lawyer devised the income so it just skirted the law. Serena could be independent. Without Henry’s knowledge or permission, Aunt Meredith also purchased the small manor house next to Henry’s property outright in Serena’s name in perpetuity. Her advice to Serena was clear, “Use this solicitor if ever you are in trouble again. He is a cunning man and will advise you. Heed his counsel, and do not let any man harm you again, Serena. Keep your heart in check.”

  In fact, Serena was not only an heiress, but a wealthy woman. She never made Henry aware of the legal fact, a basic instinct warned her to say nothing to her brother.

  She returned to where the ladies sat. Lady Winston asked, “Did you have happy memories looking at the wedding fancies?”

  “It is difficult to review the past and not have memories. How are the teas? I have been told that the more expensive teas are Hyson and Congo. They usually are mixed with less expensive varieties like Common Bohea or Common Green tea leaves.”

  Miss Arabella asked, “Lady Serena, how is it that you are so knowledgeable about teas?”

  “As head of my late husband’s household,” she prevaricated, “we did entertain. I spent a good deal of my time seeking out the best beverages. One had to be so careful of tea adulteration, since the commodity was expensive and highly taxed.”

  She poured a cup of Ceylon tea for herself. “I have heard there is an elegant tea vendor in London who specializes in exotic teas. One day I would like to visit such an establishment.”

  Anything to get her mind away from Trystan and his evil ways.

  The men in the pub were regaled with stories of the wars in Belgium and France. Geoffrey held a keen interest in a story told by a former infantryman about the dangers of depending on allied troops. “Nothin’ was wot it seemed. Can’t trust ’em. I’m lucky to be ’live.”

  Despite the lively tales of adventure and heroism, Geoffrey found his mind wandering.

  “Shall we drink up, gentlemen, and go check on the ladies?”

  The men went round to the Tea Shoppe to fetch the women, and soon they went for a walk along a small promenade. Henry showed them the small lake filled with ducks and swans. They sat on park benches and conversed, pairing off into couples.

  “Something troubles you,” Geoffrey whispered to Serena. “Will you tell me?”

  “What is to say? Our time together this afternoon sped away. This is your last night and tomorrow you will be gone. I cannot possibly have your portrait ready in oil. I am sorry.”

  The portrait be damned. It was his absence she wasn’t prepared to endure.

  Geoffrey’s words came from his heart without forethought. “The portrait is not the greatest importance. You are. Would you allow me to come to you tonight? Can you forego the lake swim so we can have more precious moments in each other’s arms?”

  “Yes, Geoffrey. It will be my last memory of you before we say goodbye.”

  “Serena, come away with me. Life can be glorious if we are together.”

  “I have no doubt about that, but to go with you would spoil what we’ve shared. I shall travel the countryside alone in an effort to forget you. Although I hold little hope of success at that prospect.” She fidgeted with her beaded reticule, opened the latch and closed it a few times.

  “Serena, do not give up on us. It can happen.”

  “I cannot disgrace myself or my family by running away with a rake. My liaison, publicly, must be honorable. Please do not make this difficult. We will have this evening together, pretend to be who we are not. I believe we are bound by all we have shared. I thank God for all the wondrous memories even if we are apart.” Her hand went to her eye to stop a tear.

  Henry’s voice boomed, “Come. Come, everyone, time to depart.” Henry waved to his guests.

  “My lady, do not be glum.” Geoffrey extended his arm.

  She accepted, and they walked to where the carriage awaited them.

  Her dress of ivory-colored wool with insets of velvet shimmered when she moved. The under-slip protected her modesty. He thought he would like to see her in that same dress without the sheath. What a vision he conjured. A feast for his hungry eyes.

  Damnation, what licentious demon had invaded him?

  Soon they arrived at the manor house and spilled into the drawing room.

  He walked to the pianoforte and one finger touched a key. Geoffrey turned to see her eyes upon him. He smiled and played another few keys. She invaded his every thought. He vowed he would get over this affair as he always did, once he could not look upon her. Yet, her sensuality and innocence had been a dichotomy that challenged him.

  He looked in her direction again and dark eyes haunted him.

  She came to him. “Geoffrey, you seem deep in thought. Is something wrong?”

  “The word deep conjures seductive thoughts,” he whispered, “I want to be deep inside you. I am anxious to share your bed.” Amid the chatter and laughter, no one paid any attention to them.

  “We might be overheard.” She looked over her shoulder.

  He rose and took her arm. “Come let us stroll to the balcony. To be blunt, I burn for you.” Geoffrey took her arm and they went through the French doors to the balustrade.

  “I look at you and I lust with desire.”

  “My lord Duke, never have I met a man who can seduce with mere words.”

  “I am glad to hear this. I would not like to think other men could have such an effect on you.” He clutched the cold balcony rail with his hands. “Do I sound like a jealous man?”

  “You sound like a man who needs a distraction.”

  “You are correct. It is what you have become.” He leaned closer, his voice low and hoarse.
“That and so much more.”

  “Have I graduated to a higher level?” She tried to harness her depth of loss and sound humorous—it did not work.

  “Perhaps what I feel has no name.” He lowered his head.

  Liar. Tell her, name it. Tell her what she wants to hear, you fool.

  “Shall we go?” Geoffrey held her gaze.

  “Yes. Perhaps it is time. I will make my exit now. I’ll wait for you to come to me, Geoffrey.” Serena went to her brother. “Henry, it’s been a long day. I am fatigued and wish to bid you good night.” She made her farewell to all the guests and left.

  Geoffrey followed. “Would you like me to see you home?”

  “That is not necessary, my lord Duke, the attendant will take me.”

  At her studio house, Serena climbed the stairs and Emma followed. She undressed and asked the maid to get her the nightgown she purchased from the French modiste’s shop on a recent trip to London. “Do you think he will like this?” she asked Emma. Serena twirled around. It covered her back but the front revealed her curves.

  “I think he won’t be able to resist you. You look happy, mistress.”

  “I am, but sad, too. He leaves tomorrow. Say a prayer for me tonight, Emma. It will hurt to lose him. All the light in my life will be gone.”

  “I’ll take the puppy to my quarters, my lady. He can keep me company.”

  “Thank you, dear Emma.” The maid curtsied and left the room with the dog.

  In the quiet of the moment, Serena reflected on Geoffrey’s words. He couldn’t name what he felt for her. She hoped it could be love, for with love all things were possible. Could it be so?

  The guests at the manor retired to their rooms. Henry checked his watch. “Come, Geoffrey, join me in a brandy.”

  “Of course, Henry, my pleasure.” Drink was the last thing on his mind, but he needed to appease Henry’s suspicious nature.

  The minutes expanded to an hour. Geoffrey twisted in his chair. Would Serena tire of waiting for him to come? Finally, Henry yawned and bid his guest goodnight.

  Geoffrey made a pretense of going to his room, but he stood in the darkness of the corridor until it was safe to exit the house. He ran the distance to Serena’s studio. Breathless, he stood at her veranda. No light shone in the house nor her bedroom window.

  God’s blood. She’d given up on him.

  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.