Chapter Seven
Eight Years Later…
May 1896
In the sumptuous hotel room in Dover, Serenity woke sometime in the wee hours of the night, her pulse thundering as the last vestiges of her dreams faded away. She’d been making love to Luke, lost in those beautiful nights they’d spent together when they were young and foolish and believed they could cross those lines with no consequences.
Last night, he’d finally said he loved her, and those words had made all the difference. For the first time in years, she could think back on those sweet interludes, when they’d made love, held each other and talked to the wee hours of the morning, with nothing but love and tenderness. Finally, the sting of betrayal was gone, and she could once again believe in him, believe that he’d never meant for her to get hurt.
She shivered and reached for him, only to find the bed empty beside her. She blinked sleepily, stunned that she’d grown accustomed to having Luke there beside her in just one short evening. Sadness swamped her, and she swallowed, wondering where he’d gone. Had he left her without a word, to pay her back for what he thought she’d done to him all those years ago?
No. She knew immediately that he would never do that to her.
A small noise made her turn, and she found him kneeling before the fireplace, throwing on another log. He glanced over his shoulder and gave her a stunningly sweet smile. “It was getting chilly,” he murmured. “I didn’t want you to be cold.”
How long had it been since anyone had cared for her in such a way? He was the only one who ever had, and her heart filled with sudden gladness for this time they had together, no matter how short it might prove to be.
She slid out of bed and moved toward him, drawn by a force she couldn’t name. He stood and drew her into his arms, pressing his lips to her temple. “I haven’t slept so deeply in so long,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “You don’t know what it meant to me to have you there beside me. It made me think that perhaps everything would be all right, that I could put all my cares aside, if only for a while.”
She blinked against the sting of tears his words had caused. She loved that he felt safe with her, as she had always felt with him. Even now, after everything had gone so terribly wrong, she still felt safe with him. “I slept well, too,” she breathed. “Your body gives off such heat.”
He chuckled, pulling her tighter against him. “I’m glad you were warm.”
She stood there, in the circle of his arms, and she suddenly felt the hard press of his desire against her belly. Knowing that he still wanted her, after all this time, made heat shimmer through her. What harm could it do, to give into the desire between them one more time? At least she’d have the memory of it to keep her warm during all the long, lonely nights to come.
“Make love to me,” she whispered, lifting her gaze to his. “I want you so much, Luke.”
He blinked rapidly. “Are you sure? I promised you all I wanted to do was sleep.”
“We’ve slept,” she said with a choked laugh. “It’s been so long. Please, just make me remember how it feels to not be alone.”
He bent down, kissing her with explosive passion.
She clung to him, kissing him back in full measure, the world spinning around them as they tried to make up for so much lost time. Without breaking the kiss, he lifted his hands to the fastenings of her thin nightgown, undoing them until the garment fell into a pool of fabric at her bare feet.
He swept her trembling body into his strong arms and carried her over to the bed, setting her down in the center of the soft quilt and then stretching out beside her, still kissing her deeply. One of his large, warm hands drifted down the column of her throat, then skimmed across her chest, settling heavily over her breast.
Gasping, he finally pulled slightly back, his intense blue gaze drifting over her body, his chest heaving. “I’ve dreamed of this, of you, angel. A thousand aching dreams…”
Lowering his head, he captured one hard nipple with his lips, his fingertips lightly pulling at the other. She buried her hands in his thick, dark hair, the pull of his mouth setting off fireworks throughout her entire body.
“There’s never been anyone for me but you,” she felt compelled to tell him. “Only you, Luke. Only you.”
He groaned and slid his hand lower, finding her more than ready for him. She gasped as his fingertips worked their magic, knowing just where to touch her, exploring places that had been untouched for far too long. She’d worried that her body would no longer please him, or worse yet, that he’d realize what the changes signified, but there was no room for modesty, no room for any thought. All she could do was feel.
Within moments, she was shattering beneath him, crying out his name.
Luke trembled as he watched Serenity come undone at his touch, her sweet, lithe body pale and lovely in the flickering firelight. She was even lovelier than he remembered, more womanly curves and grace.
He still couldn’t believe she’d agreed to this, and his heart was so full. He couldn’t even describe the emotions that flooded him. All he knew was that she was here, despite everything against them, and he had no intention of ever letting her go again.
As she slowly came back to earth, he quickly divested himself of his own clothes. He lay back down beside her, and she leaned up on one elbow, lazily letting her other hand drift across his chest. Her eyes were hooded and satisfied, and he loved knowing that he’d done that.
“My beautiful Luke,” she whispered huskily. “I’ve missed touching you.”
“I’ve missed being touched by you,” he groaned, just as her hand moved lower, making the muscles of his stomach jump and contract beneath her cool fingertips.
And then she closed her fingers around his throbbing member, and all thoughts fled. Her touch was hesitant, unschooled, but he’d never known anything more sensual.
Knowing he was in danger of coming in her hand like a schoolboy, he suddenly took control, rising up above her and pressing her down into the mattress beneath him, sliding between her parted thighs and pressing deep into the core of her.
She cried out, raking her hands down his back, and he shuddered with the utter rightness of the moment. “Mine,” he whispered harshly, pulling nearly out and then thrusting as deep as she could take him. “You’ve always been mine.”
“Yes,” she gasped. “Always.”
He lost himself in her then, waiting only until he felt her contract around him before he let go, following her into bliss.
* * *
As dawn broke through the window, Luke stared into the dancing flames of the fireplace, his fingertips lightly tracing something strange on Serenity’s soft stomach. Stretch marks. They were barely visible, and he hadn’t noticed them earlier, while in the heat of passion. But after she’d fallen asleep, he’d gazed upon her, marking all the ways the years had changed her.
At first, he hadn’t realized the significance, but then it had hit him like a sledgehammer to the gut. He’d had a few lovers over the years who’d had children. He knew what these marks meant.
Sometime in the years since he’d last seen her, Serenity had been pregnant.
She’d said there had been no one except him. Had she lied about that? Or had she simply meant that she’d never loved anyone but him? All those years she’d spent in Winters’ house… God only knew what she’d had to endure to survive.
But she’d said nothing of a child. Surely, if she’d had one, she’d have mentioned it, insisted they take the child with them. That horrendous housekeeper certainly wouldn’t have let her leave the child behind, not that he thought Serenity would do such a thing. Instinctively, he knew she’d be a wonderful mother.
Perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps the marks were from something else entirely.
Or maybe she hadn’t told him because the child was his. Maybe that was why his mother had intervened and sent her away.
He shook his head, banishing the crazy thoughts rushing through his mind.
He wanted to wake her up, demand the answers, but truth be told, he was terrified of what he might find out. For now, he was content to simply hold her, drifting in the happiness of having her in his arms again, trying to convince himself that her past didn’t matter. Whatever revelations today might bring, they could work through them. He’d find a way to make it right, to forgive, support… whatever needed to be done.
All he knew was that he was never letting go of her again.
* * *
Serenity woke again to find a bright shaft of sunlight streaming through the window, giving the dusting of dark hair on Luke’s broad chest a golden shimmer. She lifted her head and glanced at the clock on the mantle, seeing that it was half-past nine. After seven years of being a servant, the hour felt decadently late.
Lifting on one elbow, she started at her handsome lover, committing his every feature to her memory. She blushed a bit as she thought of what had passed between them in the middle of the night. A slight twinge of discomfort as she shifted made her realize how very long it had been since she’d known such pleasure.
Her smile slowly faded as she thought of how impetuous and reckless she’d been. So lost in the moment, she’d given no thought to all the things that still stood between them. He still didn’t know the truth about why his mother had sent her away, and she shuddered to think of telling him.
She desperately wanted to stay here with him, to take full advantage of his wealth and protection, let him set her up once again in the cottage, officially becoming his mistress. But the thought of that, of giving herself to him completely, only to know he could never truly be hers, seemed more painful than letting him go for good.
Her heart couldn’t take that last blow. And neither could her pride.
Before she could even think it through, she slowly eased out of bed, leaving Luke sleeping peacefully beside her. Panic clawed in the pit of her stomach as she gathered her things from the floor of his room and crept back out into the sitting room.
She dressed hastily, freezing at every sound, her heart hammering in her chest. She had to get out of here. The enormity of what she’d done, the foolishness of allowing herself to fall under his spell once again, overwhelmed her.
Nothing has changed.
All the things that had stood between them in the past remained. He was still an earl; she was an upstairs maid. The secrets she harbored, the pain of the past… there was no way they could ever have a future together. If he ever found out what happened, the tragedy that had befallen them both—though he’d never known it—he’d never forgive her.
Much as she’d loved to be in his arms once again, she’d only made this even more difficult. He was determined to help her, to pull her into his world once again, and she knew if she waited for him to wake up, if she stared into his eyes as he asked her to stay, she’d be helpless to refuse him.
But she couldn’t go down that road again. Her heart still ached from the last time. If she let herself fall for him, he’d only break her heart again. Irrevocably this time.
And so, she fled. She took the small bag of her things, leaving even the clothes he’d bought her last night, and stole out into the cool gray dawn, heading for the train.
She had enough money to get her back to London, where she’d throw herself on the mercy of the one person who might take pity on her, the closest thing she had to a friend.
Gemma Cross.
* * *
The moment Luke awoke, he knew something was wrong. He reached for Serenity, only to find the sheets where she’d lain cold to the touch. With a muffled curse, he pushed out of bed, his head pounding with shock and fury.
“Serenity,” he cried.
As he’d feared, he was met by only silence.
Undaunted, he prowled through the suite, opening doors and screaming her name over and over, until the proprietor banged on the door, demanding to know what was wrong.
He wrenched open the door. “My companion,” he yelled. “When did she leave? Did you see her go?”
The man stepped back, obviously taken aback by Luke’s wild-eyed appearance. “She left just after dawn, my lord. I don’t know where she was going.”
Luke sagged against the doorframe, all the anger leaving him in a rush, replaced by despair. “What time is it now?”
“A bit past noon, my lord.”
“Goddamnit,” he cursed. How had he slept so long? She’d be halfway back to London by now, no doubt. And he had absolutely no idea where to look for her. Now he was missing both a sister and a lover, and he’d never felt so helpless.
“Are you all right, my lord?” the innkeeper asked quietly. “Is there something I can do for you?”
Luke shook his head. “Thank you. I’m fine. Can you send for a hack to take me to the train?”
“Of course, my lord. Right away.” As the man disappeared down the hall, Luke resisted the urge to slam the door, closing it with careful precision.
She’d left him. Snuck out like a thief in the night without a word of explanation, just as she’d done last time. Part of him thought he should probably let her go, but he’d never been one to play it safe. There was more going on here than he knew. Something horrible had happened to the woman he loved. Something so horrible that she’d never quite recovered from it. He wasn’t going to judge her actions today until he knew the reasons behind them.
He had to find out what happened all those years ago in order to fix what was going on now. And the only way he knew to do that, the only lead he had, was his mother.
He grimaced as he packed up his things. He would return to London and speak to his mother. And he had a sinking feeling that it would probably be the last conversation he ever had with her.
* * *
“Why must we stay here? It’s ugly! I don’t like it! I want to go home!”
Roger glowered at his lovely spoiled half-sister, wondering what he’d possibly been thinking when he’d decided to bring Allison with him to Paris. He’d expected her to be fine company during his exile, but she’d done nothing but whine and complain for three solid days. He’d like nothing more than to send her back, but his stepbrothers were probably going mad with worry for her, and that almost made the irritation of having her here worth it.
“Our lodgings are only temporary,” he reminded her for at least the tenth time. “Once my funds are available, we’ll move somewhere much nicer. I promise.”
She glared at him, then flounced over to the lone sofa that their admittedly shabby hotel suite boasted. “You’d better not expect me to put up with this more than another day or two,” she told him darkly, then went back to reading the novel he’d fetched her earlier in the day.
Once she’d quieted, he poured himself a glass of whiskey and downed half of it, annoyed by the tremble in his hand.
He couldn’t stop thinking about the look Adrian had given him when they’d caught sight of each other in the hallway of that warehouse. If it hadn’t been for the bastard’s wife spilling out of the basement and diverting his attention, Roger knew he’d be a dead man.
In fact, if any of his stepbrothers caught up to him, they’d probably kill him, so he had to come up with a way to destroy them first. As things stood, he’d never be able to return to London, which was unacceptable. His businesses were there. His life was there.
With a sigh, he sat back in his chair, wishing he’d taken care of all three of them back when they’d killed his father. He still couldn’t believe they’d gotten away with it, but no one had believed that such young boys could be responsible for such a heinous act. Ever since, he’d been trying to figure out which one of them had done it, and how. His father had been strong and brutal. It wouldn’t have been easy for one of those little weaklings to push him off that roof.
That was why he’d finally concluded that the three of them must have worked together.
Taking Lucien’s child all those years ago had assuaged some of his fury. Kidnapping Adrian and Morgan’s wives had been an attempt to hurt them the way they’d hurt him, but he’d honestly never meant for either of the women to die. Now that Morgan’s wife was dead, this dangerous game he’d been playing with Adrian for years had intensified to a deadly one.
He finished off his whiskey and poured himself another, full of dark fantasies of revenge.