His Wicked Seduction novel Chapter 11

Once inside, Horatia took him to the morning room to warm up, but to their surprise the fire was unlit. Lucien peeled off his wet wool overcoat and looked at the cold fireplace with a raised eyebrow. For a moment she just stared at him. He glanced down, wondering what she was looking at. His shirt clung to his arms, highlighting his forearms and biceps. When he looked back to her, she'd gone wide-eyed and scarlet. Horatia hastily darted past him to the fireplace and pulled back the grate. He bit the inside of his lip to keep from grinning. She'd liked what she'd seen, he was sure of it.

A low and angry echoing sound announced either the presence of a ghost, or a cat up the chimney. "Mreoooww."

"Muff!" Horatia got down on her hands and knees and peered up the chimney. "Come down right now!" She reached up into the sooty confines of the fireplace.

Horatia's backside was on full display to him as she tried in vain to coax down the stubborn feline. The icy chill he still felt dissipated beneath the heat that swept through him. How would her hips feel between his hands? How would his name sound as it was moaned from those lips? Lucien shook his head, trying to erase those images and, more importantly, discourage an enthusiastic response in his loins.

"Here, let me see if I can get him." Lucien knelt beside her. With the advantage of his longer arms, he could reach the crevice in which the renegade feline had lodged himself. "I see him. The question is whether I can reach him. You might want to shield your eyes, my sweet." The endearment fell off his lips without thinking. He reached up, grabbed the cat by the scruff of his neck and dragged him down. Lucien coughed as he dislodged a wave of soot and it rained down around him and Horatia. They both fell back out of the fireplace and onto the floor.

Muff hissed and lunged into Horatia's arms in his bid to flee. He dug his claws into her arms before propelling himself away, leaving a sooty trail of paw prints out of the drawing room. Horatia sneezed and tried to rise. Lucien caught her wrists but his hands came away bloody as he helped her to stand. Her forearms had been sliced by Muff's not-so-tender escape.

Horatia, covered in soot and clutching her bleeding arms, looked absolutely miserable. Something in Lucien's chest tightened. She was so brave; she hadn't made a squeak of pain. If it had been him he would have bellowed like a wounded bear. Not her though, not Horatia. She bit her bottom lip, blinked away the moisture in her eyes and all he wanted was to drag her into his arms and kiss her senseless.

"Come now, let's get that taken care of." He wrapped an arm about her shoulders and led her out into the hall and up the stairs to her bedchamber. He instructed a passing footman to bring warm water, some bandages and have the fire lit in Horatia's room, assuming the blasted cat hadn't gotten there first.

A few moments later, Cedric's housekeeper, a matronly woman with graying hair at the temples, entered the room carrying water and bandages.

"Here we are..." She winced at the sight of Horatia's injuries. "Oh my poor dear!"

"Thank you, Mrs. Stanwick. Could you bring us some hot tea?" Horatia asked.

The housekeeper's lips parted in surprise. "I shouldn't leave you alone..."

"It will only be for a minute. Leave the door open if you must." Lucien's tone was less a suggestion and more a command.

"Very well, my lord, I'll be back shortly." Mrs. Stanwick set the bandages and hot water on the side table and went to fetch tea.

"You don't have to stay. I can see to it," Horatia said.

"Nonsense. I always took care of you when you were young, didn't I?" The words were out before he could take them back. The baffled look on her face, highlighted by her rounded eyes, made her seem so young. She was nothing like his usual women. He liked them fine-boned and full-figured. Horatia had ample curves and a lovely face, but she lacked that edge of cool passion that all of his conquests had.

Lucien pushed her to sit on her bed while he took the cloth towels from the footman. The footman started a fire while Lucien cleaned his hands of soot. The newly lit fire crackled and snapped over the logs. It warmed his back, putting him in a strangely gentle mood.

Her bottom lip shook a second before she opened her mouth.

"Shh..." He wetted a towel and cleaned Horatia's hands of the soot and wiped the dried blood away. After applying some salve to the cuts, he wound the bandages snugly around her arms. Then he then toweled off his face, as did Horatia. Lucien noticed she missed a few spots.

"What?" she asked when she caught him staring.

"Hold still." He captured her chin and tilted her head back.

Her knees broke apart, allowing him to step closer to her. He brushed the moist edge of his towel over the tip of her little upturned nose, resisting the sudden urge to kiss it. He wiped away a patch of soot, just above her collarbone. Horatia seemed to be holding her breath.

When he finished, he dropped the towel and placed his hands on her skin. He traced her bottom lip with the pad of his right thumb, feeling its fullness. Horatia's lips closed around his thumb as she kissed it. The warm wet caress of her tongue made his entire body tighten. Mesmerized, he pulled his thumb away and leaned down, closing the distance between her lips and his.

He coaxed her lips apart with an exploring tongue. Lucien's hands curled around her hips, holding her still as he pressed himself into the cradle of her body.

"Happily." He left her room, slamming the door.

Can't that man ever shut my door normally?

Horatia buried her face in her pillows and took several deep breaths, but it did no good. She fought the urge to cry, but tears still ran down her cheeks. It was then that Mittens sauntered out from under the bed, jumped up and nestled against Horatia's stomach, purring.

There was something comforting about the animal's unconditional love. Only after stroking the cat's satiny fur did she finally calm down, but it was a long while before she could look rationally at the problem.

Over the years she'd heard whispers from maids and footmen about his sort. And of course, her brother's warnings always rang inside her head. "Never trust men, Horatia. If someone asks to show you the garden at a ball, run and find me. You don't want to end up with someone like Lucien. They'll steal your innocence, break your heart and ruin any chance of a decent marriage. Word gets around and for us, reputation is everything."

Lucien didn't want an innocent woman. He wanted a wild and wanton creature in his bed. If she were to ever catch his attention it would require something drastic. After today, she was positive that he had some small attraction to her. If she could just get close enough to him to make him act on it... But she couldn't get close to him. Most of the time he seemed to have enough sense to stay away from her. If only there was a way she could trick that stubborn marquess into seeing her as a woman, not his friend's sister.

Horatia's eyes fell to the open drawer of her vanity table. A silver loo mask lay in the drawer, a piece from a masquerade earlier that year. It spawned an idea. She needed to be someone else, the type of woman he would seek out.

But how to go about it? It would have to be in a location far away from her brother's watchful eye. Someplace dark, perhaps at night so she would have less of a chance of being seen. If she could interact with Lucien in a place where she could wear a mask, he might not know it was her. The risk was high that he would recognize her after talking to her, but if she had it her way there wouldn't be much talking.

All she needed was a chance to convince him that she was worthy of his attention. She wanted to be the seductress he made her feel like. Perhaps if she proved she was passionate, he would offer for her.

I'm such a peahen. The bitter thought struck her like a hard slap. Lucien wouldn't offer for her. He'd use her and then move on. Then again, he'd come close to marriage once. Why not once again? And a tiny voice in her head whispered that ruination at Lucien's hands would be worth it. Even if she spent the rest of her life as a lonely old spinster, one night with him outweighed a lifetime with someone she had no feelings for.

Forcing herself to focus on her idea, she evaluated her choices of clandestine meeting spots. This plan had all the earmarks of one of Audrey's schemes. Audrey! That was it. The moment her sister returned, Horatia would consult her. She wouldn't tell her what she intended to do, but she could solicit advice on how to bribe a footman from Lucien's household to divulge the Marquess's nightly activities and the places where he could be found.

For the first time in days, Horatia smiled with glee.