Page 73 of Tempted By the English Marquis
“There is so much I want to say to you. So many words of regret and longing. I should have never let you get on that ship and leave England. I was a fool. If you can see a way to giving me a second chance, I promise to spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Serafina, my love.”
Serafina had imagined this moment so many times and what she would say to Gideon, but words failed her. Instead, she tugged on the lapels of his jacket pulling him closer.
“Gideon,” she whispered.
His smile lit up her world. “I agree, words don’t really do this moment justice. Perhaps it would be better if we let our hearts do the talking,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.
Gideon speared his fingers into Serafina’s hair and held her to him. His lips lowered, capturing her mouth in a warm, deep kiss. This was a kiss. The one she imagined he had intended to give her at the Colosseum before they had been interrupted.
I’ve waited a long time for this moment.
Warmth flooded her body as her heart began to race. Gideon’s tongue swept past her lips and into Serafina’s mouth. She responded to his touch; their tongues met. She tasted wine, mixed with the hint of burning desire. Her trembling fingers grasped at Gideon’s coat, desperate for an anchor in the swirling storm.
“Serafina,” he moaned, then deepened the kiss. His lips worked over hers, soft but with a clear statement of claim. All her dreams of him had been of this moment. Of when Gideon finally cast aside all doubt and confirmed his feelings for her.
She hadn’t been kissed properly before, hadn’t imagined it could be like this. Her whole existence was captured in this embrace. She clung to him, praying this would never end.
He broke the kiss, panting heavily. Shivers raced down her spine as Gideon traced small butterfly kisses across her cheek and to the underside of her earlobe. He nipped at her skin with his teeth, and she groaned. This was what being with the person who loved you was meant to be like—aching need. Passion, desire, lust, everything.
A knock came at the door, and Gideon released his hold. He stepped back, his chest rising and falling as he sucked in air. His gaze remained firmly fixed on Serafina as he managed a gruff, “Come.”
The door swung open, and Augusta rushed into the room. She came to Serafina’s side. “Anna is at the top of the stairs, waving her arms about frantically.”
Other de Luca family members must have returned to the palace. Serafina gave a nod. Her time with Gideon tonight might have been at an end, but their intent was now clear. They wanted a future together.
Gideon pointed to the door. “Serafina, you had better go to your room. If anyone suddenly pays you a visit, you can pretend you were getting ready for bed. I will remain here, talking to my sister someone I haven’t seen in a long time.”
“Go,” urged Augusta.
Serafina hurried out of the room, and once inside her own bedroom, she quickly set to work on the fastenings of her gown. A second later, Anna dashed through the doorway, and snatched up a hairbrush.
When the knock did come a short time later, Serafina was seated in a chair, clad in her nightgown. Her maid was folding clothes and making small talk. Donna Francesca gave a cursory glance around the room, whispered, “Good night, Serafina,” then closed the door behind her.
Serafina let out a long, slow breath. The kiss had been exhilarating. Gideon might have spoken few words, but that embrace had said all that was needed. He wanted her.
Anna left a short while later, and Serafina climbed into bed and pulled up the blankets. She lay staring up at the ceiling, pondering how the next few days would play out. Her father was determined to go ahead with the betrothal ceremony next Monday. If she and Gideon were going to strike a blow for their own future, they would have to do it soon.
“How can we do this and not have the wrath of Rome come down on our heads?”
She was still contemplating what she and Gideon should do next when the door to her bedroom opened once more. Serafina turned her head and uttered, “Who is it?” in her best feigned sick voice.
Donna Francesca crossed to where Serafina lay in her bed. She bent and placed a hand on her daughter’s forehead. “Definitely not well. I would suggest a day in bed for you, young lady. I shall instruct your maid to make sure you are not disturbed. Good night, Serafina. I hope you feel better by suppertime tomorrow.”
Serafina shut her eyes. As the door closed behind her mother, she lay listening. Outside in the hallway, a terse exchange was taking place.
“I told you she wasn’t well. That’s why I sent her home. If Giovanni Magri has a problem with Serafina taking ill, then perhaps he is not suited to being a husband. Or a father.”
“Signore Magri simply voiced his disappointment in our daughter’s sudden departure. And I wasn’t questioning your decision to let her go. I was just . . . you know how important this union is to me.”
“Yes, everything is about you. Well, I have instructed our daughter to spend tomorrow in bed. She needs rest. The last thing you would want is for your prize to be taken seriously ill just before the betrothal ceremony,” snapped the contessa.
Enzo grumbled something in response, but Serafina didn’t quite catch it. Considering the bite in her mother’s words, she doubted her father’s reply was anything polite.
Her parents’ argument was nothing new, but the prospect of being confined to her bedroom for the next day was something special. It was a rare thing for the de Luca children to be granted a day all to themselves. Serafina considered it a treat.
She lay facing the door, listening to the retreating footsteps of her parents.
I wonder why Donna Francesca made such a thing about me staying in here.
