His Wicked Seduction novel Chapter 50

Lucien approached Horatia, hating the distance between them, and scooped her up out of the chair to hold her to his chest. She fisted her hands in his waistcoat and buried her face in the crook of his neck. The intimate seeking of protection and reassurance made his heart turn over. Even after being cold to her for so long, she still trusted that he would care for her. She amazed him.

Lucien banded his arms about her back, tightly grasping her to his body. He layered gentle comforting kisses on the crown of her hair, shushing her with warm soothing sounds. His rage at Lawrence and Linus was still strong, but Horatia was more important right now, and she needed him to stay with her. He would punish his brothers for luring him away when she needed his protection. Even Avery was involved somehow. They would all be dealt with on the morrow.

"Why did he...why did he have to do that? He has no interest in me, so why? He was cruel to toy with me, and to what end?" she asked between choked sobs.

"I don't know, love. I don't know." And for a long while after that neither of them said anything. He wished he had answers. He would by tomorrow, and Lawrence would be fortunate if he still drew breath once Lucien was done with him.

Lucien held her tight, amazed by how good she felt even now-every curve, every scent, every sweet breath she exhaled. He couldn't picture ever letting her go, or that he could exist in a world where she wasn't his.

She cried herself out until she was exhausted. Horatia sagged in Lucien's arms and he picked her up and carried her to her bed. Somehow being put on the bed banished her tears and the need to cry any further. Her thoughts drifted away from Lawrence and back to the eldest Rochester.

"Feeling better? Why don't I fetch Ursula to undress you and put you to bed?" Lucien suggested.

Her hand shot out and locked around his wrist. "No. Please stay."

"Someone needs to get you settled and undressed." He frowned, oddly even more attractive in the way he was determined to care for her.

"You can undress me." She smiled at him. "You've had plenty of practice."

"Horatia, you do realize how inappropriate it would be for me to..." He waved his hand up and down, gesturing to her clothes.

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "Inappropriate is your forte, Lucien. I want you to undress me. I trust you."

After he set her down, he began to undress her with tenderness akin to tending a newborn babe. There was nothing sensual or seductive in his movements.

Horatia wiped her tear-stained cheeks with the back of her hand, wondering if her complexion had become splotchy. She gazed down at Lucien's bent form as he removed her dancing slippers and slid his hands up her legs to unroll her stockings. His hair caught the lamplight so that the waves of dark crimson were glossy and inviting. She ached to thread her fingers through the strands, to see if they matched her memory of that night at the Midnight Garden.

Her fingers stretched towards him just as he moved to stand again. Horatia dropped her hand onto her lap as he began to slide her gown down over her shoulders. She was too weary to protest when he lifted her and dragged the gown down and off her until she was clad only in her stays and chemise. He reached out and unlaced her stays, peeled them off and let them drop to the floor. Her breath hitched as she crossed her arms over her breasts, hoping to hide her body with the filmy chemise.

Lucien then went to the armoire and searched through the clothes until he found a thick flannel nightgown and held it out to her. She took it and prepared to remove her chemise. He turned his back, uncharacteristically gentleman-like. It made her smile, if only a little, as she pulled the nightgown down over her head. He turned back around and the look on his face made her breath catch. He looked devastated, yet relieved, as though everything she'd been feeling on the inside was now painted across his handsome features. Her knees gave out and she sat down on the bed, thankful for the support it gave her.

As Lucian sat on the bed's edge beside her, he gently turned her sideways and began to pluck hairpins from her untidy coiffure with a gentleness Horatia had not thought possible. With the last hairpin set on the nightstand, Lucien wound his fingers through her wavy mass of dark hair with his fingers. The feel of him coaxing tangles loose and sweeping through the strands sent a wave of longing through her. When his hands finally drew away, Horatia faced him and his fathomless eyes.

As he approached the bed she moved back a bit to give him plenty of room to join her. He blew out the lamp, enveloping them both in darkness as he settled into the bed next to her. He plumped a pillow behind his head and then without hesitation brought her body against his, his arms anchoring her to him.

For better or worse, he was here with her, comforting her in a way he had not done in seven years. It was worth Lawrence's rash actions to have been awarded this quiet, intimate moment with Lucien. She savored his warm breath fanning her neck and the heat of his body against her own. She was barely aware of anything except him as sleep crept in.

Lucien lay awake, all too aware that sharing a bed with Horatia was dangerous. Only her scare with Lawrence had allowed him to maintain his restraint for her. He focused instead on his brother. What the hell had Lawrence been thinking? Lucien knew his brothers better than he knew himself. Lawrence would never have hurt Horatia, or any woman. Why then had he put her in such a terrifying situation? A prank? That was more Linus's game. Lucien replayed the evening in his mind, searching for any hint, any detail to explain his brother's actions. Lawrence had lured him out on the pretext of meeting with Linus who supposedly had amorous intentions towards Horatia, but when he'd arrived at his study the room had been empty so he'd started back to the ballroom. When he glimpsed Linus ducking into a room at the end of the hall, he'd started to follow until he'd passed by one room that hadn't been occupied a few minutes before.

That was when he'd stumbled upon Horatia and Lawrence.

Lucien would never get that sight of them out of his head. Fear clawed at his insides and worry knotted his stomach. Whatever scheme his brothers had been involved in...tomorrow they would pay. Lucien would see to it, no matter the reasons. Horatia belonged to him, not Lawrence or any other man. And no one harmed what was his. A woman as wonderful and kind as Horatia deserved to be cherished, protected and...loved.

He pulled Horatia tighter against him. She shifted, murmured something and lay still again. It did not escape his notice that her body fit well with his, as though she had always belonged to him.

Only then did he realize that for many years now he had belonged to her, and this epiphany troubled him greatly.

Nothing good would come of feeling this way towards her. The rules of the League could not be broken, and friendships could not withstand such a trespass. Lucien didn't want to choose between Horatia and her brother. He silently prayed that he wouldn't have to.