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The Second Seduction

Page 28

by Shelley Munro


  “Did that hurt?”

  “No.”

  “You liked it?”

  “I did. I do, but I’m not sure how much exploration I

  can take.”

  Her bottom lip stuck out in a cute pout. He had the

  sudden urge to sink his teeth into that lip, then soothe it

  with kisses. Hell, he needed to speed up this process before he

  went mad. One hand snaked up behind her head, tugging her

  fl ush with his aroused body from shoulder to groin.

  “Oh,” Rosalind said, moving aside and peering at his

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  groin. “Does that hurt?” One small hand crept downward.

  She wrapped her hand around his rod, the heat in her touch

  making him want to groan out loud. God. Th

  at felt good.

  And all she’d done was touch him. As if she could read his

  mind, her hand moved, exploring him, sliding her hand up

  and down until he thought he might go cross-eyed.

  Lucien tightened his arms around her. “Sweetheart, no

  that doesn’t hurt. Please.” Needing to distract her, he cupped

  one breast with his hand and explored her luscious curves.

  Th

  e scent of fl owers teased at his nostrils. What would she

  taste like? He held her away from him, replacing his hand

  with his mouth. Hell, she tasted sweet. She moaned softly.

  His heart thudded, his hands tightened at her sensual reac-

  tion while his mouth lathed her pouting nipple. His plain

  English mouse had many hidden qualities that only now he

  was coming to appreciate. Th

  e pressure in his groin urged

  him to make haste, to dispense with the patience, and for

  once Lucien was in full agreement. He kissed her, ravishing

  her lips, tasting, nipping. Hands explored, shaping her breasts

  then moving lower. His hand skimmed the hot, sweet place

  at the juncture of her thighs. She stiff ened.

  “Relax,” he murmured. “You can tell me to stop at any

  time and I will.” If he could. Lucien wasn’t so sure of his abil-

  ity to halt, should she ask.

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  Still tense, but lying quietly, he stroked down her thighs.

  So soft and pale. And bruised, he noted with a frown. One

  knee bore a graze while numerous scratches marked the pale

  perfection of her thighs. Lucien slid down and touched his

  lips to a bruise that had aged to an angry, mottled yellow. He

  trailed his fi ngers upward. Warm feminine fl esh greeted his

  touch. His fi ngers moved, circled slowly until the tenseness

  left her body and her thighs fell apart. Th

  e scent of her, sweet-

  smelling and delicious, made him tremble. Lucien pressed a

  kiss to her abdomen then slid up to kiss her breasts again.

  When her hands cradled his head, holding him to her, a surge

  of pure lust sizzled through his veins.

  “You know it will hurt,” he said, looking down at her

  slightly fl ushed face. Her blue eyes darkened, her bottom lip

  caught between white teeth.

  “I don’t mind.”

  She sounded sure that this was what she wanted. But,

  she was apprehensive. Lucien covered her lips with his even

  as he parted her legs. Take it slow and easy. Slow and easy. He

  surged inside her, the sensation almost more than he could

  bear after months of celibacy. Her warm, feminine fl esh mas-

  saged him. He sucked in a deep breath. Slow.

  “Th

  at doesn’t hurt,” Rosalind said. She sounded surprised.

  A smothered chuckle escaped Lucien as he reached her

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  maidenhead. “Not fi nished yet.” He battled the need to

  thrust hard. A deep breath and gritting of teeth didn’t help

  the urgent desire thrumming through his veins. He covered

  her lips with his and surged inside her until he was buried

  deep. She fl inched. Hell. He pulled away enough so he could

  see her face even as he cursed his lack of willpower. He kissed

  her hard, moving in soft, measured strokes. Gradually, she

  relaxed, and he knew that everything would be all right when

  her small hands stroked his back and fl anks. Urging him

  on. Her breathing quickened. Lucien stroked a little faster.

  Harder. Just when he thought he could hold on for no longer,

  Rosalind gasped. Tensed. Tiny ripples massaged his rod.

  Lucien thrust once. Twice. He groaned, his heart thumping.

  Another thrust. Pleasure fl ooded his body.

  “Rosalind.” He held her tightly until his heartbeat fi nally

  slowed to normal. Th

  en, he looked down. And smiled, be-

  cause her small face was radiant.

  “Is it always like that? Making babies?”

  Lucien tensed, the smile losing some of its crispness.

  God, what if they had made a child?

  “Lucien?”

  His breath eased back out. “No, it’s not always like that.”

  “Can we do it again?”

  A baby.

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  Hell.

  What if something happened to Rosalind?

  “Don’t leave the castle without me. I mean it, Rosalind. If

  I’m not available to escort you, then stay at the castle. Inside.

  Not outside, wandering about the gardens.”

  Rosalind stared at him. Her mouth dropped open, then

  she snapped her teeth together. “What have you done with

  my husband?” she demanded.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re not my husband. You’re Lucien’s bossy, evil twin.”

  “Th

  is is no joke, Rosalind. I mean it. Don’t leave the

  castle without me.”

  “Don’t worry. I promise to take a footman with me.”

  Lucien yanked her to him, jerking a surprised yelp

  from her. “Not a footman, Rosalind. A footman is no pro-

  tection. Me.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and she wrenched away from his

  touch. “Th

  at sounds like an order.”

  “It is.”

  “But why? Nothing has happened to . . .” She trailed off

  as she registered his glare.

  “Nothing? You were shot at, someone pushed you over

  a cliff , the maid pushed you down the stairs, and someone

  watches you whenever you’re in your chamber.”

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  “You forgot being pushed out of bed.”

  “Dammit, Rosalind. Don’t be fl ippant. You could have

  been killed.”

  “I didn’t think you cared.”

  Lucien sat up in the bed and glared at his troublesome

  English mouse. Didn’t care? “You’re my wife,” he snapped.

  “Not a servant,” she countered sweetly.

  Lucien did not wish to discuss the matter. He didn’t want

  to explain. Instead, he did the only thing he knew would

  distract his wife. He lurched at her, grabbing her, and tucking

  her against his naked body. His mouth slammed down on

  hers, gentling when she responded. Perhaps they would make

  a baby after all — if that was the only way to keep her safe.

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  XVII

  Rosalind bound
ed into the breakfast room, eager to see

  Lucien. Her face fell when she found the room empty of

  people save a maid. She’d thought Lucien would remain by

  her side, but instead he’d left like a thief in the night. Disap-

  pointment stabbed her, spreading niggling doubt. What if

  Lucien regretted last night?

  Th

  e maid bobbed a quick curtsey. “Would you like a pot

  of hot chocolate, Lady Rosalind?”

  “Th

  ank you, Janet.”

  Th

  e maid bustled from the room, and Rosalind helped

  herself to eggs before taking a seat at the table.

  Footsteps in the corridor made her head jerk up, but the

  new arrival was Charles. Justin arrived shortly.

  Rosalind grinned at the two bleary eyed men. “Just

  THE SECOND SEDUCTION

  returning or leaving?”

  “A night out,” Charles muttered.

  Justin grunted.

  Rosalind arched a brow, her nose wrinkling at the scent

  of cheap perfume and stale tobacco that originated from their

  clothes. “Coff ee?”

  “Th

  ank you. You’re looking very fetching today,” Charles

  said. “How are you getting on with Lucien?”

  Heat converged in her cheeks. Rosalind concentrated

  on pouring the coff ee without spilling it. Th

  e maid returned

  with a pot of chocolate. Rosalind poured a cup for herself.

  She blew on the hot liquid before taking a cautious sip.

  “Ah,” Charles said. “Will you be announcing the immi-

  nent arrival of an heir soon?”

  Justin sipped at his coff ee, aff ecting a bored look. “I’m

  sure they will tell us when they’re ready. You don’t need to

  prod for information, Charles.”

  “Am I embarrassing you?”

  “Yes,” Rosalind said. On purpose, no doubt.

  Justin yawned, holding a languid hand up to cover his

  gaping mouth. “I’ll change the subject. A group of us are

  going on a picnic. Would you like to come?”

  Rosalind glanced out the window. A shaft of sunlight

  pierced the dusty glass, dust motes dancing about the fl oor.

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  Th

  e thought of remaining indoors on such a lovely day made

  Rosalind grimace.

  “You don’t have to come,” Justin muttered, fi ghting an-

  other yawn.

  “No, it’s not that. I’d love to go on a picnic. When are

  we to leave?”

  “In an hour. Can you be ready by then?” Charles asked.

  “Yes.” Lucien’s order gave her pause. No, she’d be safe in

  a group, with both Justin and Charles present. “Yes, I’ll meet

  you in the courtyard in an hour.”

  An hour later, the carriage clattered from the courtyard.

  Charles smirked. “Lucien looks more relaxed these days.

  It’s good to see him smile again. How is his memory?”

  “Is Lucien’s memory returning? Th

  at’s good news.” Justin

  snapped a whip as he directed the pair down the dark avenue.

  His loss of memory haunted him. Rosalind had seen

  his troubled expression when he thought he was unwatched.

  “No, I don’t think so. At least he hasn’t said anything.”

  Justin glanced at Rosalind. “He would tell you.”

  She blushed, and Justin grinned. He tapped the rumps of

  both horses with the whip to quicken the pace. A soft breeze

  tugged at her hat as the carriage raced along the cliff top

  road. Th

  e sea appeared calmer than normal. Th

  e usual roar

  of the waves breaking at the base of the cliff was muted. In

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  the distance, Rosalind saw a ship in full sail.

  Rosalind smiled at Charles. “I didn’t ask where the picnic

  is being held.”

  “Lady Helena and her mother are organizing the picnic.

  It’s being held on the edge of the beech forest on their land.

  You’ll enjoy the scenery. Th

  ere’s a brook with good fi shing.”

  Fool. In such a hurry to leave the castle, she’d neglected

  to ask the important where. Now she would have to listen to

  Lady Helena’s digs all afternoon and her veiled innuendos

  about witchcraft. A pity she couldn’t prove the other woman’s

  perfi dy. “Lady Helena thinks I’m a witch.” She could, how-

  ever, make life uncomfortable for Lady Helena.

  Justin choked on a laugh. “We’d heard.”

  Charles cocked his head, surveying her with clear inter-

  est. “Are you a witch?”

  “Of course not,” Rosalind scoff ed.

  “You have a cat.” Justin urged the horses on. “A black cat.”

  “Th

  e two of you are as bad as Lady Helena,” Rosalind mut-

  tered. “Th

  e idea is nonsense. I don’t wish to discuss it further.”

  Charles’ mouth quivered as he fi ddled with the silver lace at

  his cuff s. “Th

  ere’s a lot we’re not allowed to discuss with you.”

  “We’ve arrived,” Rosalind announced.

  “So we have.” Justin halted the carriage and leapt to the

  ground. He held his arm out to Rosalind and she placed

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  her hand on it. Th

  e warmth from his skin seared through

  her fi ngertips, usually a sure sign that she would have a

  vision whether she wished it or not. Rosalind instinctively

  attempted to block the vision. But, Justin’s thoughts pierced

  the fl imsy barrier in her mind. Hot. Furious. Out of control

  fragments battered her mind. Dark, ugly thoughts that made

  her inhale sharply.

  Hawk.

  Her feet hit the ground, but her legs had the consistency

  of melting snow. She stumbled.

  Justin tightened his grip on her forearm. “Is anything

  wrong, Rosalind?” He smiled, his face a smooth mask of con-

  cern. He released her arm and stepped back.

  Th

  e instant he let her go the vision faded. “No . . . noth-

  ing’s wrong.” To her horror, she stuttered.

  Justin’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve gone as pale as Charles’

  shirt.”

  Rosalind forced a laugh. “A little dizziness. I must have

  got up too quickly.”

  Charles stepped up beside her and took her arm. “Do

  you wish to return to the castle?”

  “Of course not. I’m fi ne.” She needed to think. Was she

  jumping to conclusions? Justin’s thoughts were of Hawk, but

  that didn’t mean he was Hawk. A lot of the village people

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  THE SECOND SEDUCTION

  thought of the man. Doubt see-sawed within. “Is that Lady

  Helena and her mother arriving now?” she asked, wanting to

  direct the men’s attention elsewhere while she grappled with

  the problem.

  “It is, indeed.” Justin took possession of her other arm.

  “Shall we?”

  Rosalind smiled but tensed inside. Concentrate. Block his

  thoughts. She needed to calm herself, and use logic to discover

  Justin’s connection with Hawk.

  Th

  ey strolled toward the approa
ching carriage. It was

  followed by a procession of others. Passengers and servants

  disgorged from the vehicles. Lady Helena approached with

  mincing steps, her nose wrinkled in a frown.

  “Lady Rosalind, I didn’t realize you were attending our

  small social gathering.” Her smile was bright as it touched

  the two men but faded when redirected at Rosalind. “It’s

  very selfi sh of you to monopolize the company of two

  eligible men.”

  “Lady Helena.” Rosalind inclined her head sharply before

  turning a beseeching look at Charles to divert the chit’s at-

  tention. Scheming hussy. When she could prove the charges,

  she’d call Lady Helena on her treachery. Somehow.

  Charles closed one eye in a wink and off ered his arm.

  “Lady Helena, allow me to escort you.”

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  SHELLEY MUNRO

  “Nicely done,” Justin murmured, extending his arm to

  Rosalind.

  “Th

  ank you.” Rosalind drew in a quick breath and

  opened her mind. As slow and cautious as a blind man, she

  allowed the thoughts and memories to come. Th

  e surge of

  black jealousy, of tangled, traitorous thoughts made her want

  to rip her arm away. But, she steeled her nerves, determined

  to learn the truth.

  “How far do we need to walk?” she murmured.

  Justin stopped and turned to study her face. “Are you

  still dizzy? You’re still pale.” He glanced over his shoulder and

  checked the path in front of them. “Are you increasing?”

  “You and Charles have no right to ask such a personal

  thing,” Rosalind burst out. “When Lucien and I have happy

  news to impart, we’ll tell you.”

  His face froze momentarily before he smiled. “I’m sorry.

  You’re right. My only excuse is that Charles, Lucien, and I are

  more brothers than friends. Lucien is the fi rst to wed and that

  changes things a little.”

  His thoughts jumped in agitation. Pictures fl ickered

  through his mind so rapidly Rosalind had diffi

  culty keep-

  ing up. Bother. Snapping at him had stirred his thoughts so

  much she felt as though she was adrift on rough seas.

  “Do you think you’ll marry soon?”

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  THE SECOND SEDUCTION

  His mouth twisted. “My mother wants me to.”

  “But . . .”

  “It’s complicated.”

  Th

  e fog that clouded his mind lifted without warning,

  leaving a clear picture for Rosalind.

  Hawk.

  Th

  e man stood on the deck of a sailing ship, his hands

 

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