The Second Seduction

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The Second Seduction Page 20

by Shelley Munro


  her face. Th

  e bureau was part of the wall, and the rollers

  on the bottom allowed easy, almost noiseless access to her

  chamber. On the rear, there was a sturdy handle that would

  help the person exiting her chamber pull the bureau back

  into place with ease.

  “I knew it,” she muttered, her voice full of satisfaction.

  She turned, picked up her candle, and plunged into the

  black hole.

  Lucien turned on his side, trying to fi nd a comfortable spot.

  His head pounded as though a dozen needles were being

  jabbed into his forehead. Although he’d told Rosalind not to

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  bother with the salve, he could have done with something to

  ease the pain now. He grunted. Who would have thought a

  simple fall would cause so much discomfort?

  He fl opped over on his other side, sending the covers

  fl ying from the bed. Lucien stared at the playful nymphs that

  cavorted above his bed. He cursed low with frustration. Th

  e

  curvy blond nymphs reminded him of Rosalind.

  A soft, insistent tap jerked him from the dangerous

  thoughts. He sat up, listening intently. He’d almost decided

  the noise had been imagination when it sounded again. Th

  e

  noise was coming from inside the wall.

  Lucien slid from bed and pulled on a pair of breeches.

  Th

  e noise sounded again, but further away. Gradually the

  tapping receded. Lucien snatched up a candle, fumbled for

  a tinderbox, lit the candle, and slipped from his room. He

  paused to listen. Yes. Th

  ere it was again. Maybe Rosalind

  was right. It seemed as though there was someone behind the

  wall. It could be a person or a creature of some sort. Either

  way, Lucien intended to fi nd out.

  He stalked the length of the dimly lit corridor, follow-

  ing the progress of the muffl

  ed thumps and thuds. Holding

  the candle up, he studied the wall closely. He was unable to

  discern anything out of the ordinary. Th

  e wall looked the

  same all the way along.

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  SHELLEY MUNRO

  He tapped the wall lightly with one knuckle. A muffl

  ed

  shriek rent the air, followed by a mighty crash. Th

  e wall

  where he was standing fl ew open. An apparition in white fl ew

  at him, arms outstretched. Th

  e ghostly scream made the hair

  at the back of his neck lift. Lucien took a step back, his heart

  hammering in unease.

  “Lucien!” the creature cried.

  Lucien took a closer look. “Rosalind?”

  “Oh, you gave me a start! Never mind, I intended to fi nd

  you anyway. Look what I’ve found.” She gestured at the black

  hole behind her.

  Th

  ey both heard footsteps from a lower level at the

  same time.

  “Quick. Come out of there and we’ll shut the door,”

  Lucien said. He made quick work of placing the wall back,

  before he hustled Rosalind further down the passage.

  Rosalind looked back over her shoulder. “Who is it?” she

  whispered.

  “I don’t know, but whoever it is, I think we should keep our

  discovery to ourselves.” He urged Rosalind down the passage.

  Rosalind dug in her heels. “Whose discovery?”

  Lucien took one look at her indignant face and wanted

  to laugh. Her blond hair, which was usually immaculate,

  stood up in all directions. A cobweb covered her face and her

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  nightgown was gray with dust.

  Th

  e hollow echo of footsteps on the wooden fl oor came

  closer. Lucien frowned. Th

  ey wouldn’t make it back to his

  chamber in time. Th

  e unknown person would pass them in a

  few moments. And Lucien would bet they, whoever they were,

  would have endless questions about Rosalind’s appearance.

  He whirled about and pressed Rosalind against the wall.

  He ignored her squeak, holding his candle aloft to survey

  her face. He wiped a smudge of dirt off her cheek with his

  free hand. Th

  e white gown glowed like a signal fi re, giving

  away exactly what she had been up to. A good thing she was

  so tiny, he thought. If he kept them out of direct candlelight

  they might pass inspection. His larger frame would hide most

  of the dust on her nightgown. His breath hissed out as he saw

  something else illuminated by the candlelight.

  Her breasts.

  Lucien squeezed his eyes shut but the vision remained

  imprinted in his mind.

  “Hell,” he muttered. He placed his candle on the fl oor

  and moved away from her intoxicating scent. Th

  e fl oral per-

  fume was driving him crazy, making him think things he

  had no right to think.

  “What is it?” she whispered, closing the gap between them.

  Lucien groaned under his breath. “Nothing. Be quiet.

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  SHELLEY MUNRO

  I’m trying to listen.”

  Th

  e footsteps sounded closer. Damn. He’d have to . . .

  Th

  e footsteps paused, probably when whoever it was

  saw them. Lucien looked down at Rosalind. Her face was

  barely discernible in the dim light, but his mind fi lled in the

  details. Eyes the color of a pale blue forget-me-not, lips rosy

  as a freshly picked apple. Th

  e determined chin and heart-

  stirring smile.

  His head lowered. He heard her small gasp and smelled

  the warm womanly scent of her. Th

  en, his lips covered hers.

  He drank in her second gasp of surprise, his hand curving

  behind her head to draw her closer. Just one taste while they

  let their silent watcher draw his or her own conclusions. But

  one taste only fed his growing hunger. One more kiss, he

  thought, and then he’d stop.

  “Cuz, don’t you know they have bedrooms for that sort

  of thing?” Warm amusement colored Charles’ voice.

  Lucien loosened his hold on Rosalind and stepped back.

  Blood thrummed through his veins; he hadn’t felt so alive

  for months. And the realization galled. He took another step

  back before he allowed himself to glance at Rosalind. Even

  though he couldn’t see her clearly, he sensed the yearning,

  the need to take the kiss a step further. He forced himself

  to think of Francesca and his plans to fi nd her killer before

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  returning to his estates in Italy.

  “Am I interrupting?” Charles drawled. He cocked a brow

  and puff ed on his pipe, sending a cloud of smoke into the air.

  Irritation and a dose of self-recrimination bubbled inside

  Lucien. Of course he was and Charles knew it. Lucien bit

  back a curse, knowing he should feel thankful his cousin had

  come along, interrupting what would have been an irretriev-

  able step. He frowned. Still, damned odd that Charles had

  appeared at that exa
ct moment. Especially as his chambers

  were in the opposite wing. He picked up his candle and shone

  it in Charles’s direction. “What are you doing here?”

  Charles glanced at Rosalind and visibly hesitated.

  “Well?”

  “I’ve been . . . visiting,” Charles said in a low voice.

  “Visiting whom?” Rosalind piped up.

  Lucien’s anger abated as he smothered a laugh. Charles

  had come from the direction of the servants’ quarters and, no

  doubt, a warm bed. A simple explanation.

  Lucien decided to take pity on him. “Charles is friendly

  with some of the servants. Sometimes they place cards or

  the dice.”

  “Oh,” Rosalind said.

  “What are you doing up so late?” Charles asked.

  “We couldn’t sleep so we went for a walk in the gardens.”

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  SHELLEY MUNRO

  He curled an arm around Rosalind’s waist and drew her

  against his side. Touching her felt natural. Right. Th

  ink of

  Francesca, he told himself with a surge of panic. He pictured

  her face easily enough, but the look of approval on her smil-

  ing face threw him.

  “I’ll bid you good night, then,” Charles said. With a bow,

  he sauntered away.

  “What do you think?” Rosalind whispered.

  Lucien looked down at her intent face. So, she’d thought

  Charles’s explanation strange too. Th

  e woman was astute

  as well as persistent. And a menace to his mission. “I’m not

  sure,” he said slowly. “Th

  e servants’ rooms are in the direction

  he came from.”

  “But, you don’t know for sure. He might be your cousin

  but you don’t remember him. We should check in the morn-

  ing. Ask a few questions.”

  She was right. But he didn’t see Charles as a killer. Th

  e

  man seemed almost foppish with his love of lace and cosmetics.

  “Come,” he said. “It’s late. I’ll escort you to your chamber.”

  “But, don’t you wish to explore the passage?”

  “Not now. In the morning.”

  She accepted his arm and nodded. “Th

  at makes sense. I

  can’t wait to see where it leads.”

  Lucien halted to nail her with a glare. “It’s too dangerous

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  THE SECOND SEDUCTION

  for you. I’ll do the exploring.” Th

  e thought of her wandering

  alone in the passages made his blood run cold. He’d stake his

  life that the passage connected with the smugglers’ tunnels at

  the beach, and perhaps the North tower. It was the only thing

  that made sense. All the booty he’d discovered during his

  explorations had disappeared between one visit and his next.

  He knew for a fact that the contraband didn’t leave via sea or

  along the beach. Th

  at left only one alternative.

  “Th

  at’s not fair. I discovered the passage.”

  Now was not the time to argue. He took Rosalind’s arm

  and propelled her to her chamber. Get rid of her. Go and

  investigate now, before the smugglers discover someone has

  breached the passage. He frowned. A snort escaped. Hell, who

  was he trying to fool? Each minute spent with Rosalind was a

  test of will power. One taste of her lips left him craving more.

  At Rosalind’s chamber, he opened the door and stood

  back for her to enter.

  “I don’t believe it,” she muttered.

  Lucien followed her gaze. Th

  e room and its contents were

  in a shambles. Her belongings were strewn about, the bed-

  ding ripped off the bed, the sheets shredded as if someone

  had thrown a temper tantrum.

  Rosalind stomped inside her room. She whirled to face

  him, her face a mask of fury. “Th

  is is the second time tonight.

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  SHELLEY MUNRO

  Th

  at’s why I never returned with the salve for your face. Th

  e

  maids and I spent almost two hours cleaning up the mess.”

  She screwed up her face, and alarmed, Lucien wondered if

  she was going to cry. “Th

  e only gown I own is the one I wore

  tonight. All the others were shredded.” She swiped a hand

  over her face.

  Damn. She was going to cry. What was he going to do

  with a weepy female?

  “Where am I going to sleep?” she demanded with a sniff .

  “It’s so late, I can’t ring for a maid again.”

  “You can sleep in my room,” Lucien said. He stilled as

  he registered his words. He’d said them without forethought,

  but he could hardly take them back now.

  “In your room?”

  “Yes,” he said gruffl

  y. He took her arm once again and

  headed for the connecting door, holding the candle in his

  other hand to light the way. Th

  e seldom used door opened

  with a loud, protesting creak as if it, too, thought allowing

  Rosalind in his chamber was a bad idea. On the threshold, he

  hesitated. Rosalind didn’t seem to notice his diffi

  dence as she

  surveyed his private rooms.

  “What will I sleep in?” she asked.

  His mind groped for an acceptable answer. “One of my

  shirts?” he fi nally suggested.

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  THE SECOND SEDUCTION

  She smiled a smile that made his heart beat a little faster.

  “Th

  ank you.”

  Lucien shook himself mentally and crossed the Persian

  carpet to the door of his dressing room. Minutes later, he

  produced a white linen shirt. He paused in consternation.

  Rosalind was eyeing his bed with fascination. Lucien felt a

  tinge of amusement as he jerked his gaze away. Just wait until

  she noticed the cavorting nymphs.

  “Where will you sleep?”

  “Th

  ere’s a couch in my dressing room.”

  Before he could speak, Rosalind darted into the dressing

  room. “You can’t sleep on that,” she said. “Th

  e mattress is as

  hard as an oak tree.”

  Lucien sighed. She was going to be diffi

  cult. He just

  knew it.

  “Your bed is big enough for two.”

  Did she have to point that out?

  A plaintive meow sounded from the other side of the

  connecting door, saving him from a reply.

  “Noir,” Rosalind murmured.

  Lucien grabbed at the chance to escape, if only for a few

  minutes. “I’ll get him.” He bounded through the connect-

  ing door, spied the kitten by Rosalind’s bed, and then played

  chase for several minutes. Finally, he cornered the kitten and

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  SHELLEY MUNRO

  returned to his bedroom at a much slower pace. Share the

  bed. He wasn’t ready for this. Not at all.

  Visions raced through his head without warning that

  had nothing to do with sleeping. He paused, shocked at his

  thoughts. “Hell’s teeth,” he muttered.

  Lucien let the kitten down on the fl oor and tried to

  think when his feelings had changed. Th

 
e change had been

  subtle and sneaked up on him without warning. He might

  feel an attraction for her, but that didn’t mean he had to

  follow his inclinations.

  “I changed in your dressing room,” Rosalind announced.

  She walked toward the bed without the slightest bit of hesita-

  tion, her legs bare to his gaze.

  And he looked. He couldn’t help it. His blood raced

  through his body, his heart stuttered before resuming a rapid

  tattoo. Hands itched to touch her generous curves.

  Her legs were long and slender, for such a tiny thing. She

  perched on the edge of his bed and calmly unbound her hair.

  Pale golden locks fell to her shoulders one by one, glinting in

  the light of the second candle she’d lit while he was away.

  “Which side should I sleep on?” Her voice sounded

  matter-of-fact, as though they had done this a thousand

  times before.

  Lucien grimaced, still hesitating while Rosalind fi nished

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  THE SECOND SEDUCTION

  loosening her hair and pulled back the covers. His gaze fas-

  tened on her legs and never moved until they disappeared

  under the covers.

  “Shall I blow the candle out?” she asked.

  Lucien cleared his throat. “No, I’ll take it to the dressing

  room with me.”

  “You are coming back?” She patted the space on the

  feather mattress beside her. “Th

  ere’s plenty of room for both

  of us.”

  241

  XIII

  How long until morning?

  Lucien tugged at the neck of his linen shirt, trying

  to ease the tightness as he stared at the English mouse in

  bemusement. A bit like a hangman’s noose, he thought with

  a fl ash of black humor.

  “Well?”

  She was pushy and oblivious to fear. Lucien still couldn’t

  get past the fact that his scarred face did nothing to scare her

  off . Most women turned away when they spied his face. Even

  men averted their gaze, but not his English mouse.

  He felt the weight of a stare and knew she watched him.

  Again. Slowly, he turned. Her lips looked soft and pink in

  the candlelight. Th

  e taste of her simmered in his memory.

  “You need sleep,” he murmured, still eyeing her lips and

  THE SECOND SEDUCTION

  feeling unbearably tempted. “You’ll rest better if I sleep

  in the dressing room.” With that decided, Lucien walked

  toward his dressing room.

  He couldn’t leave! She wouldn’t let him. Not when she

  was so close to fi nding out what went on between a man and

  wife in their bedroom. Th

 

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