His warm, moist breath blew against her cheek, draw-
ing a sweet shudder. In truth, her knee throbbed, and since
the hour grew late, Rosalind had no compunction in retiring
before the guests called for their carriages to leave. “I am a
trifl e sore.” Th
e moment she uttered the words, the aches in-
tensifi ed. “Nothing some salve and rest won’t cure.”
“Come, say your good nights and I’ll see you to your
chamber.”
“Good night, Katherine. Th
ank you for keeping me compa-
ny. Justin. Charles. No doubt, I will see you on the morrow.”
After further farewells, Lucien and Rosalind left the
parlor and made their way through the Long Gallery. At
the base of the stairs, Lucien paused. “Would you like me to
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carry you?”
“I’ll manage.”
Lucien took one look at her pinched, white face and lifted
her into his arms. She felt so tiny cradled next to his chest,
but it was a sensation he was becoming used to. His English
mouse possessed strength of character that made the rest of
the women in the parlor look ordinary. And, it was becoming
more diffi
cult to ignore her charms.
Lucien paused outside Rosalind’s chamber to open the
door. A sound coming from inside the room made him halt.
Rosalind tugged his sleeve in a silent demand to be put
down. Lucien frowned at her and indicated with a hand
gesture that she should stay right where she was. He moved
silently into the chamber. A whisper of silk behind him made
his teeth clench.
Rosalind sidled up to him and tugged on his sleeve once
more. “Who is it?” she whispered. Her blue eyes fl ashed ex-
citement, and Lucien groaned inwardly.
“Stay there,” he mouthed.
A fl urry of movement coming from Rosalind’s dressing
room made her leap into action.
“If someone is destroying my clothes again I’m going to
scream.” She limped past Lucien, evading his grasp and shot
into the dressing room.
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“Damn,” Lucien muttered. He hurried after her to avert
further injury.
Rosalind slammed to a halt. “What on earth do you think
you are doing?” she demanded. Her severe voice sounded sur-
prisingly like Lady Augusta at her most imperious. Lucien
saw her eyes narrow a second before she darted from sight.
A feminine screech rent the air, loud enough to make his
ears ring.
“What’s going on here?” Lucien burst through the door-
way in time to see Rosalind grab the dark-haired maid by the
shoulders, the one that was always dropping sly hints about
joining him in his bed, and shake her vigorously.
“I asked you a question,” Rosalind snapped.
Th
e maid glared at Rosalind, her mouth fi rmed to a stub-
born line.
“Tell me.” Rosalind shook the maid again.
“I came to turn down your bed and light the candles,”
the maid said. “Ask Tickell. He sent me.”
“He told Maria to do it,” Rosalind countered, releasing
the maid.
“No, he . . . How did you know?” Th
e maid edged away.
“I just do.” Rosalind folded her arms across her chest and
glared down her upturned nose, her chin jutting upward.
Lucien bit back a smile. Rosalind was handling this in-
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THE SECOND SEDUCTION
terview well without his help. And, she was right to question
the maid. Th
ere was no need for her to be in here. Several
gowns lay on the fl oor in a puddle of silk and the maid still
grasped a lacey shawl in her right hand.
“Would you like to hand over the knife from your
pocket?” Rosalind asked, her tone as pleasant as if she were
taking tea with acquaintances.
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
Rosalind pointed. “Th
e knife in that pocket.”
Th
e maid’s shoulders slumped. She yanked the knife
from her pocket, and Lucien stood poised, ready to intercede
should she threaten Rosalind.
“Th
ey’re right,” the maid said with a snarl. “You’re a witch.”
Lucien took two steps forward, but Rosalind stilled him
with a look.
She grabbed the maid’s forearm. “Who says I’m a witch?
Who’s spouting such falsehoods?”
Th
e maid tried to ease away from Rosalind’s grip. “I have
more rooms to ready for the guests. Tickell said I have to
fi nish them by midnight.”
“You’re going to clean up the mess here fi rst,” Rosalind
snapped. “But, before you do that, you’re going to tell me
who suggested you destroy my gowns. I presume it was you
who ransacked my room last week. You must have laughed
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when I asked you to help me clean up the mess. How much
did Lady Helena pay you?”
Th
e maid gasped; the color fl ed her cheeks, leaving her
looking pasty white.
Lucien leaned back against the doorframe and waited.
He hoped Rosalind knew what she was doing because when
she blurted out things like that without warning, damned if
she didn’t sound a like a witch.
Th
e maid refused to meet Rosalind’s gaze. She mumbled
under her breath and this time Lucien heard Rosalind gasp.
“You pushed me down the stairs tonight. Why?”
“I did not!”
But, one look at the maid’s face told Lucien she was
guilty. She had pushed Rosalind down the stairs.
Lucien closed the distance between himself and the two
women. Th
e idea of losing Rosalind . . . Fury whipped him.
Losing Francesca had been bad enough, but to lose another
wife was unthinkable. “You could have killed my wife.”
“I think that was the idea,” Rosalind said. A look passed
between them that needed no words.
“Don’t joke,” Lucien muttered. He turned a glare on the
hapless maid. “Why?”
Th
e maid tossed her head and tried to tug free of Rosa-
lind. “Let me go,” she muttered. “I haven’t done anything.”
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THE SECOND SEDUCTION
Rosalind’s mouth hardened. Lucien watched her tense,
then relax. She loosened her grip on the maid. “Go,” she said.
“I’ll deal with you in the morning.”
About to protest, Lucien snapped his mouth shut when
he saw the warning Rosalind sent him.
Freed, the maid shot past them. Her hurried footsteps
sounded as she raced across the room. Th
e door creaked and
then slammed, indicating her exit.
Lucien moved from the cramped dressing room into the
more spacious chamber. “Do you think she was acting on her
own or is she being paid?”
“Lady Helena paid her.” Rosalind settled into
a wooden
chair with a relieved sigh. She rubbed at her knee through her
skirts and winced. “I feel as though I’ve been used for target
practice. I think my bruises have bruises. I’ll talk to Lady
Helena in the morning. She won’t get away with this.”
Lucien frowned. “She didn’t admit that Lady Helena paid
her. Why are you so sure that Lady Helena is responsible?”
Rosalind’s eyes fl ashed. “Because I read the maid’s
thoughts,” she retorted. “Lady Helena is responsible.”
“You read her mind?” Lucien seized Rosalind’s words
and threw them back at her with clear disbelief.
Rosalind’s glance contained a mixture of guilt and frus-
tration, tinged with something that looked like hope. Read
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SHELLEY MUNRO
her mind, Lucien thought in shock. How was that possible?
He laughed and heard uneasiness in the sound. “You’re
joking, aren’t you?”
“No,” Rosalind stated, holding his gaze and maintain-
ing it with a steady look. “I have . . .a gift,” she fi nished in
a defi ant tone. “Sometimes, I’m able to read minds. Not all
the time, but . . .most of the time now,” she confessed. “My
grandmother had the same gift.”
Lucien felt an urgent need of movement, so he walked to
the door and returned. “How does this. . . gift work?”
“You don’t believe me.”
“I . . . it seems unusual.” Lucien wasn’t sure he liked the
idea of her knowing his thoughts. She’d said she could only
read some people. Hope surged, then withered at her look of
sympathy. “You can read my mind.”
“Mostly.”
Lucien stiff ened. “So, you know of my past.” Somehow,
the idea that she knew his inner thoughts seemed obtrusive.
She met his gaze fearlessly. “Yes.”
Lucien compressed his mouth to a fl at line. “Good
night, Rosalind.” He strode to the door that connected their
chambers and jerked it open. It was only with the greatest
willpower that he didn’t slam the door shut. God forbid, he
wanted to. Lucien paced the length of his chamber, ignoring
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THE SECOND SEDUCTION
the luxurious surroundings and the softness of the Persian
rug beneath his shoes.
What the hell was he going to do?
Th
e door burst open before he could even begin to think.
“Don’t walk away like that.” Rosalind limped into his
chamber, her blue eyes fl ashing.
Th
e door slammed behind her, and Lucien suppressed
the fl ash of dark humor. He’d restrained his temper.
“How would you feel if I knew your every thought?
Th
at not one single thing was private? You’d hate it,” Lucien
answered his own question.
Rosalind’s chin jerked upward. “I don’t know your
every thought.”
“Th
at’s not what you said before.”
“I said I knew your thoughts, but only if I’m touching
you. I don’t know what you’re thinking now.” She planted
her hands on her hips. “Although I could take a guess. Do
you think I enjoy knowing what the maid thinks, what Lady
Augusta thinks? All my life this gift has set me apart. Do you
think I want to be diff erent from everyone else? Do you think
I want people to look at me and call me witch? Why do you
think I wear gloves most of the time?” She paused, her chest
heaving with indignation. “Th
e only reason I’m trying to read
people now is so I can fi nd out who’s trying to hurt us.”
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Lucien stiff ened. Us. “Don’t,” he snarled. “It’s too dan-
gerous.” Th
e idea of being responsible for another death ap-
palled him.
She approached him and stopped an arm’s length away,
so close he smelled fl owers on her skin and hair. “Do you
think that the accidents have something to do with Franc-
esca’s death?” She moved even closer until a mere hand span
separated them.
Hearing Francesca’s name on Rosalind’s lips shocked
him. Pain, sharp and jagged wrenched his heart, and the
ring of truth made him draw a sharp breath. It was obvious
she was using her gift, trying to help him locate Francesca’s
murderer. Even though it put her in danger. Th
e selfl ess act
battered down the last fl imsy defenses he’d erected.
“Hell, Rosalind.” His voice broke on her name. He closed
the remaining distance between them, wrapping his arms
around her body and holding her to his chest. He smoothed
his hand over her hair and saw that his hand trembled. He
moved it again, smoothing and petting, savoring the softness
of her and the trusting. It was a long time since someone
had looked at him with such belief. He pressed a kiss to the
fragrant blond hair at her temple. Lucien didn’t know how
he’d inspired such loyalty in not one, but two women. But
he had, and it was a precious gift. A second chance at love, if
312
THE SECOND SEDUCTION
he wanted it.
“Lucien?” Her upturned face shone with trust, but un-
derlying the conviction was clear determination.
Lucien sighed. He just knew she was going to be diffi
cult
about staying out of his investigation. “Yes?”
“I would like to have a child.”
Her words were like a spear piercing his heart. Sudden.
Unexpected. Painful.
“No,” he said harshly. He wrenched away from the temp-
tation to seize her in his arms and off er comfort. Guilt and
confusion made him unable to face her hurt expression.
“Why not?”
She’d had to ask. Th
e raw emotion he’d held in check since
Francesca’s death bubbled out before he could stop it. “Because
I don’t want to go through the same thing all over again. I
don’t want my wife and child to die and leave me alone.”
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XVI
Harsh fi nality enveloped his voice. Rosalind felt her
uncertain grasp on her dreams slipping. Her stomach
cramped with fear, followed swiftly by anger. She’d fought
for everything in life. Why should the fi ght for Lucien’s at-
tention be any diff erent?
So, she’d resort to her original plan and seduce him. Not
that she knew how to go about a seduction, however she’d
watched Miranda fl irt with male visitors often enough. Men
fl ocked to Miranda in the hope of being bestowed with one
of her pretty smiles or a gurgle of laughter. It would work. It
had to work.
She turned to face her silent, brooding husband. Ig-
noring the nervous stutters inside her chest, she said, “I’m
frightened to sleep on my own. Can I sleep in your chamber
THE SECOND SEDUCTION
again tonight?”
At fi rst, she thought he’d balk at her suggestion. His
muscular body stiff ened beneath the black jacket. Hands
/>
fi sted at his sides until he caught her watching him. Th
en,
he fl ung off the tenseness as easily as she discarded a shawl,
except in his eyes. Th
ey still held pain and wariness. Rosalind
edged closer. Before the thought even entered her head, she
reached out to off er comfort.
“No, don’t touch me.” Lucien wrenched away before her
hand contacted his skin.
Pain sliced through her. Another rejection. Her throat
closed. She wanted to rail and scream at the unfairness. Why
had it been she who received the gift and not Miranda? Gift!
Huh! It was a curse that kept coming back to haunt her with
the regularity of the monsters in a gothic tale.
She turned away to hurry for the door connecting their
chambers before Lucien saw the tears leaking from her eyes.
Th
e only good thing about her gift was that she knew for sure
Lady Helena was directly responsible for a lot of the things
that had happened to her since her arrival at Castle St. Clare.
She’d paid maids and some of the other servants to make life
diffi
cult for her. Rosalind had her suspicions why, but needed
to confront the woman to confi rm it was plain jealousy. Lady
Helena coveted Lucien and would do anything to remove
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SHELLEY MUNRO
Rosalind and the barrier she represented. Huh! Rosalind
tried to dislodge the achy lump in her throat with a swallow.
Lady Helena would laugh hysterically if she learned Lucien
didn’t want her, that he consistently pushed Rosalind away.
“No. Wait.” He caught her upper arm and forced her to
stop. His hand dropped the instant she halted.
“I don’t bite,” she snapped, hurting at his rejection.
Lucien raked a hand through his hair, leaving dark tufts
sticking out of his queue. “Hell. I’m sorry, Rosalind, but it’s
diffi
cult. Th
is is not an ordinary situation.”
“I have to live with it every day.”
“Please, go ahead. Make me feel better,” he said in a
dry tone.
Rosalind stared. Was that a twinkle lurking deep in his
dark eyes? Had he made a joke?
“All right. You can sleep in my chamber tonight.”
Rosalind stared anew. Th
eir gazes clashed and held. Th
e
silence stretched. In the distance, soft music tinkled, mascu-
line laughter fl oated up from outside. A soft breeze ruffl
ed the
Flemish tapestries that covered the walls.
“Where . . .” Rosalind paused to clear her throat. “Where
The Second Seduction Page 26
