His Wicked Seduction novel Chapter 14

"Enter."

When it opened, Lucien almost dropped his brandy. The young woman in the doorway wore a silver mask, but even at this distance he recognized her.

Horatia.

He'd spent too many nights picturing her seduction to forget even one inch of her form. He was relieved his mask concealed his identity.

What on earth was the silly creature doing here? It was full of wolves who'd pounce on her, just like he wanted to...

Madame Chanson's words came back to him. The young lady was interested in him when he'd been described to her. Had she come here, looking for a man like him to satisfy her own frustrated desires? Or had she been even more clever and discovered he was coming here tonight? Lucien found himself grinning. No matter her reasons, Lucien was going to show her just how foolish she was. He would make her regret this decision, and he would enjoy embarrassing her in the process.

Her evening gown of shimmering white silk had an over dress of silver netting. The bodice, cut low in a wide U, was made in a gauzy georgette that was pleated and tucked. The gown had short sleeves of the same fabric that seemed to increase the effect of her décolleté. The skirt, a silk in the same color, began just under her breasts. Though slightly pleated it skimmed her figure as she moved. In short, she was an utter vision and his body responded. She turned when the door shut behind her, startled, displaying the low neckline on the back of her gown.

"Please, come in," he purred, coming to her and taking her by the arm.

She gazed up at him, and he saw the flicker of recognition in her brown eyes beneath her silver mask. She knew it was him. Lucien glanced over at his brother who was far too occupied with his own woman to recognize Lucien's prey.

"I believe I may have been directed to the wrong room," she said, her chest rising and falling as she attempted to pull free of his hold.

Lucien tugged her up against the length of his body. "Nonsense, my little dove. Come, sit with me." Lucien pulled her onto his lap in the nearest chair. She all but squeaked in terror.

This shall be so much fun. He pulled her tight to his body, letting her feel every inch of his body that touched hers. She was rigid in his arms, but he'd soon change that.

"Frightened?" he asked in a low whisper only she could hear.

To his surprise, she gave a jerky little nod. "A little."

He couldn't resist smiling. "Sometimes a little fear with someone you trust can be a good thing."

Before she could argue, he tipped her chin up with one finger, exposing her neck with his touch. She swallowed hard, and he could see the pulse beating in her throat just as he bent his head and covered her neck with slow, soft kisses.

Horatia could barely breathe, let alone think. No doubt because her plan had worked and yet completely backfired at the same time. An hour ago, she had located the mysterious Midnight Garden. It cost her a pretty penny to pay one of Lucien's footman to tell her where the Garden was and learn that he would be there this evening. She'd arrived by hackney and paid Madame Chanson to secure her place as Lucien's chosen lady for the evening. She'd had to explain to Madame Chanson that her desire was only to spend the evening with Lucien. The Midnight Garden's owner had eyed her shrewdly and assured her that she would be with Lucien this night and no other. That had given Horatia some sense of calm.

She'd had the foresight not to give away her identity to the Madame, but she had not thought beyond that. Having no experience, Horatia was quite unprepared for Lucien's maddeningly quick seduction. She found herself on Lucien's lap, mere feet from his brother Lawrence, who she easily recognized despite his mask, as he entertained another woman.

"Why so tense, my dove?" Lucien's large hands massaged her shoulders, pleasure emanating from the force of his fingers rubbing her tight muscles. Horatia felt the heavy temptation to relax into that touch, to melt into him. It would be so simple to surrender. It was what she wanted after all.

"Are you scaring her, Lucien?" Lawrence teased between mouthfuls of grapes.

"Perhaps I am." Lucien cupped Horatia's chin, keeping her gaze level with his. "Are you still frightened?"

Despite the seriousness of his question there was a lift in the corners of his mouth that told Horatia he was barely containing his laughter.

"Now, shall we get comfortable?" Lucien slid her off his lap, leaving her in the chair while he stood before her, legs braced apart as he removed his shirt and tossed it aside. When his hands fell to the fastenings of his breeches, Horatia's heart leapt into her throat. He smiled and reached out to hold her chin, tilting her head back to look up at him again.

"There's that charming blush. I find it lovely, but I wonder...do you blush from modesty or inexperience? Surely you suffer from neither of these, in your line of work?"

How dare he? Lucien knew full well her story was that she'd asked for someone of equal social status and here he was accusing her of... Horatia shot to her feet, unfortunately bringing herself closer to him than was wise. Any response she might have made was silenced by Lucien's mouth on hers. He caught her wrists, twisted them behind her body to hold them captive against the small of her back. He freed one hand to smooth down the silver netting of her gown over the swell of her bottom and then pulled her sharply against him.

"Feel how much I want you?" he murmured against her.

The better question, Horatia decided, was how could she not feel him? The bulge of him against her pelvis made her body respond with a sharp ache between her legs. Lucien released her and moved over to the loveseat his brother had vacated. He lifted up the plate of grapes and sat.

"Join me," he said, patting the empty space next to him.

"But," she began. She was regretting her brazen plan more with each passing minute. Surely there was a more rational way to get him to come around to liking her. Then again, perhaps not.

"Now." His command was not sharp, but did promise punishment if she refused him.

She darted onto the love seat, smoothing her gown with fidgeting hands. The gown's bodice clung to her breasts, making it harder to breathe. She'd had it made a few years ago, before her figure had filled out. It was the only dress she knew Lucien had never seen on her. Horatia had never been so aware of her body as she was now. The bodice clutched her breasts, her nipples rubbed against the fabric and the juncture between her thighs felt damp and tingly. He scowled at the obvious distance between them.

"Closer," he growled.

She shuffled over.