Marguerite Kaye - Scoundrel in the Regency Ballroom - The Rake and the Heiress / Innocent in the Sheikh's Harem

‘His life as the Earl of Vespian.’

‘Yes, my father was Lord Vespian.’

‘Which makes you the Lady Serena—assuming, of course, that a marriage actually took place between your parents. Was there one?’

She cast him a wounded look. ‘Of course there was.’

He was unrepentant. ‘I’m only saying what everyone else will ask. Charles did say it was curious, your need to prove your identity.’

‘You told Charles all this? You had no right.’

‘Charles won’t say anything. He liked you.’

‘Well, I’m relieved to know that someone does.’ Serena reached for her reticule and pulled out a small leather pouch, which she handed to him. ‘I thought my father was being excessively cautious, but he insisted I should have this as well as the legal documents.’

Nicholas undid the ties. Inside was a ring, intricately worked in gold, a strange antique setting wrought around a large black pearl. Frowning, he traced a long finger over the pattern. ‘An heirloom, I presume,’ he said, returning the ring to its pouch and handing it back to Serena.

‘Another of his deathbed bequests,’ she said with intentional irony. ‘I’ve to give it to my uncle. It seems it is always worn by the heir to the earldom.’

Nicholas strode over to the window. In the brief time they had spent together the narcissi had started to fade, the cherry blossom to fall. In the distance he could see a horse and plough readying a field for planting. He had been beguiled, even Charles had spotted it. Locked away from the world, he had been careless of everything save the overwhelming attraction between them, the shared laughter, the gravitation of their bodies towards each other. He had been happy. And no matter what she claimed, he had also been duped.

A gust of rage seized him. ‘Tell me, Lady Serena,’ he said, turning back from the window to the beautiful deceiver sitting in front of the fire, ‘just why you felt it so necessary to keep your real identity a secret.’

‘You know why.’

‘I’d like to hear it from you.’

Her knuckles where white, so tightly was she gripping them. ‘Very well, if I must. I did not tell you because I knew that while you would be happy enough to dally with Mademoiselle Cachet of no particular place and no particular family, you would run a mile from Lady Serena Stamppe. I needed to find my father’s papers. You only helped because you were bored and you thought I was fair game. You would not have thought Lady Serena fair game, would you, Nicholas? And I would not then have found my father’s will. I don’t know why you’re making me say this—no doubt you wish to humiliate me. No doubt I deserve it—but do not paint yourself as whiter than white in this tawdry episode.’

‘I did not think you fair game , as you call it. How dare you!’

‘You hardly treated me as you would a respectable female.’

‘You hardly gave me grounds to do so. The first time I set eyes on you, you kissed me while I was half-naked in front of a crowd of spectators.’

‘You kissed me!’ She flung herself to her feet. ‘And then you kissed me again, here in this very room.’

‘You didn’t put up much of a fight.’

‘Oh, how dare you. How dare you! You turn everything to your own account. I came alone here because I am alone. What relatives I have don’t even know I exist yet. I thought I was calling on a man my father’s age. You made it perfectly clear from the start that you didn’t think my papers existed, or if they did that they had long been lost. I’ve told you, time and again I’ve told you, that I led a sheltered life, yet you chose not to believe that either. You talked about the rules of the game, and not playing if you couldn’t pay, and no commitment, at every opportunity so that I knew—how could I not—that you would consign me to the ends of the earth if you found out that I was the type of female who could be compromised.’

‘That explains why you lied, it does not explain why you let me make love to you. The other day—in the barn—I gave you every opportunity to say no. Dammit , Serena, you know I did.’

‘Yes, you did,’ she whispered. ‘And I didn’t. I should have, but I didn’t. I don’t know what came over me. I was not thinking straight. I thought I could play to your rules, that I could indulge in what you call a spring idyll, but I realise that I am not, after all, the type to treat such affaires lightly. It meant nothing to you, but I discovered it should mean something to me.’

‘You left it rather late in the day to discover something so fundamental. There is a name for that type of behaviour, but I will not sully your ears with it.’

Serena recoiled as if he had hit her, but met his gaze resolutely. ‘I deserved that. I know how it must look, but it was not my intention to—I mean, it was my intention to—what I mean is, at the time I meant it. But afterwards, I realised that I risked throwing away my chances of future happiness with someone else. Throwing it away on someone who did not—would never—offer me what I want.’

‘Marriage, of course,’ Nicholas said disgustedly. ‘I should have known you weren’t really that different from the rest of your sex. Well, you’ll be able to take your unsullied pick now, Lady Serena.’

‘Yes, I will,’ she said, finally driven by hurt to goad him. ‘I’m not only titled, I’m vastly wealthy too, you know. An heiress and a lady—you’re right, I will be able to take my pick.’

Charles had been right. The perfect candidate, he’d called Serena, and that was before he knew all. That Frances Eldon had also urged matrimony on his employer in his latest epistle added fuel to the flames. ‘I hope you will be more honest with the poor clunch, whoever he turns out to be, than you were with me. Will you tell him that he’s taking a lying, scheming, card-sharping temptress to his bed? Will you tell him that he’s not the first to touch you? To kiss you? To make you cry out with pleasure? Or will you play the innocent virgin with him? I warn you, you will have to polish up your act a bit if you do. Respond to him as you did to me, and he will not believe you any more than I do.’

Serena flinched. ‘You don’t mean that, Nicholas. You know I wasn’t acting.’

‘I know that I am the one left aching with frustration, while you at least were satisfied,’ Nicholas responded crudely. ‘All I’ve been thinking about, day and night, is you, you, you. The vision of you lying there with your hair undone haunts me. And now it will always haunt me. I will never be rid of you,’ he said heatedly, grabbing Serena by the shoulders. ‘Don’t you see what you’ve done? Because I will never have you I will always be imagining what might have been.’

He pulled her towards him and kissed her roughly. His lips were hard on hers, his tongue thrusting into her mouth. She could smell the scent of his soap, feel his breath warm on her skin, sense the barely controlled anger in the tension of his fingers bruising the soft flesh at the top of her arms.

It was a punishing kiss, a possessive kiss, the hungry kiss of desire too long pent up. It was the kiss of a man intent on slaking his thirst. Then suddenly it was a passionate kiss. Unable to stop herself, Serena responded, kissing him back urgently, meeting fire with fire. Nicholas groaned, releasing his grip to slide his arms around her, pulling her close into the hard length of his body. Then abruptly she was free. ‘It would have been better for us both if your father had left his papers with a lawyer.’

‘You wish we had never met?’

‘With a passion.’

‘Don’t be like this, Nicholas, don’t let us part on such terms.’