His Wicked Seduction novel Chapter 2

Lucien dodged through the traffic on the road and was halfway across the street when pandemonium struck.

Bond Street was turned on its head as screams tore through the air. The coach that had been shadowing him raced down the road in Lucien's direction. Yet, rather than trying to halt the team, the driver whipped the horses, urging them directly at Lucien.

He was too far across the street to turn back; he had to get to safety and get others out of the way. Horatia! She could be trampled when it passed her. Lucien's heart shot into his throat as he ran. The driver whipped the horses again, as if sensing Lucien's determination to escape.

"Horatia!" Lucien bellowed at the top of his lungs. "Out of the way!"

He'd never forget the look on her face. The way her confused expression changed into unadulterated joy at seeing him, then to terror as she realized the curricle was headed straight for them.

Lucien crossed the street moments before the horses reached him. He tackled Horatia, knocking her to the ground in an alley between the shops. The curricle's wheels sliced through the snow and slush inches from his boots, soaking them with icy water.

For a long moment, Lucien couldn't move. She was alive. He'd made it. The curricle hadn't run either of them over...

Then his body seemed to realize it had a woman under it. A woman with the finest curves God had ever made to tempt a man. Her bonnet was askew, revealing long lustrous curls of deep chestnut hair. Her dark eyes, so innocent, fixed on his face in wonder.

"My lord..." she murmured in a daze. Her gloved hands rested on his chest, holding him at bay. He felt the tremble of her hands all the way to his bones, and his body responded with interest.

"What in blazes?" Charles rushed into the alley, gray eyes alight with fury. "Did you see who was driving that curricle?" Charles paused and took in the scene before him with a smile. "Horatia, love, how are you? Not too bruised I hope?" Charles had never in his life bothered with titles or propriety. Neither did Lucien for that matter. So it didn't surprise Lucien that his friend treated Horatia as he did.

"Oh Charles!" she exclaimed. She seemed to realize only now she was on her back in an alley just off Bond Street, with a street full of curious people peering in and Lucien on top of her.

Lucien gritted his teeth. "Oh Charles!" she'd said, but Lucien was always "My lord." It grated his nerves that she didn't offer such intimacy to him. It was his own damned fault. He pushed her away at every opportunity, just to keep himself from tugging her into the nearest alcove and kissing her. Something about her seemed to render him into the most barbaric state possible. He had little else on his mind other than how she'd taste, how she'd moan and sigh if he could just get his hands on her.

"Lucien..." Horatia stammered. His name on her lips was more erotic than a lover's sated sigh. "What on earth just happened?"

"I fear someone just tried to run me over, and you were, unfortunately, in the way," he explained, worried by the dazed expression swallowing her dark eyes.

"I say, Lucien, you might want to get off the girl, she's turning blue," Charles teased. "Besides, stay on top of her any longer and people are bound to talk. Wouldn't want to end up married just for saving her life, would you?"

Horatia was red-faced and Lucien wasn't sure if it was from lack of air or because she lay beneath him near a public street in such a compromising position. He rolled off her and got to his feet. Charles handed Lucien his hat and he set it back in place. He brushed off the snow from his clothes with one hand while offering the other hand to Horatia.

Her hesitation struck him like a blow. Finally her gloved hand settled into his and he helped her up, tugging just enough so that she stumbled into his arms. He couldn't resist smiling down at her.

If he leaned down just a few inches, he could kiss her, part her lips... For a moment, he lost himself in the dream of how she would taste. She stared up at him, unblinking with those damned lovely eyes that warmed until they were fiery with echoed desire. It would be so easy to-

"Ahem." The footman held out the box with a most pitiful expression on his face. "My lady..." he croaked as he showed her the package. It was soaked clean through, just as Horatia and Lucien now were.

She tugged free of Lucien's arms. "Oh dear!"

The spell he'd cast over her was broken as she rushed over, taking the box from the footman. "Oh dear, oh dear." The glitter of tears were sharp in her eyes when she turned to face him.

"My dress. It's ruined."

Tears for a gown? The behavior was more suited to her younger sister, Audrey. The loveable little chit was obsessed with fashion. Horatia, however, had always been quieter, and more academic in nature.

"Can't you buy another?" Charles asked.

"No... I cannot ask Cedric to spend any more than he has."

Ahh, there she was. The Horatia he knew was frugal to a fault. Cedric was as rich as Croesus but Horatia would never let him spoil her.

His friend grinned. "Now that is more the activity I had in mind when we set out this morning."

They followed a footman to the morning room to wait for Cedric's return.

Charles settled into a large brocaded armchair, crossing an ankle over his knee. "Lucien, do you think Horatia will be all right?"

"I suppose..."

"Given her past, I mean," Charles explained. "With her parents and the coach accident. You were there. Do you think this will bring back the memories?"

Lucien shuddered. That was the day Cedric had lost his parents. They'd been traveling through town when two men had decided to race their curricles through the streets. Horatia, only fourteen, had been in the coach with her parents. The crash had been dreadful. Screaming horses with broken legs, several people who'd been too close wounded by the wreck. One young man dead, another terribly injured. Cedric and Horatia's parents hadn't survived the impact of the coach when it had rolled.

Horatia had been stuck in the coach with the bodies of her parents, unable to get out, dazed from the shock. She hadn't even screamed for help. When Lucien had reached the scene, he climbed up the carriage's side and opened the door. He called her name and she'd looked up at him, eyes full of terror. He'd pulled her out of the coach and into his arms. His stomach roiled at the memory of her body shaking violently against his.

"She's strong. She'll be fine." Lucien's words were more an assurance to himself than to Charles. He had to believe she'd not be too upset after this morning.

Thinking of her distraught left a hollow feeling in his chest. Despite his intention to ignore her as much as possible and pretend she didn't exist, she had possessed his every waking thought for the past few months. He knew exactly who to blame for this. The Duchess of Essex, formerly Miss Emily Parr.

His friend, Godric, the Duke of Essex, had kidnapped Miss Parr earlier that fall. The scheme hadn't gone at all as planned and Godric had found himself leg-shackled in matrimony a few months ago.

Lucien found himself smiling, which should have unnerved him, given that the hallowed state of matrimony was one he feared more than death. But damned if he wasn't a tiny bit jealous of Godric's easy happiness with Emily. The two were quite opposite in nature, and yet they were a love match.

The events after the kidnapping had thrown Lucien into Horatia's world again. All the effort he'd put into tactfully dodging dinner parties and balls were for naught. The League was so fond of Emily that not one of them could resist coming when she called. Cedric called it the "lapdog" effect-they'd been turned from perfectly dangerous rakehells of the worst sort to perfectly behaved gentleman in the presence of the Duchess of Essex. If only Emily and Horatia hadn't become such close friends, Lucien might have avoided her with more ease.