His Wicked Seduction (The League of Rogues Book 2)

by Lauren Smith

  The library door opened and Cedric entered, looking as cold as the empty suit of armor that guarded it.

  “I received your summons.” His friend seemed to choose his words carefully.

  Lucien tried to smile, but his nerves were on edge. “I did not mean to ‘summon’ you. I wished to discuss something of importance.” His stomach felt as though someone had unleashed a bevy of butterflies. It was almost laughable to be so frightened, like a child standing up to their teacher.

  Cedric shut the library door and approached Lucien with measured steps, hands clasped behind his back. “Here I am. What do you wish to talk about?”

  Cedric’s body language did not bode well, not at all.

  “Over the past couple of months I’ve undergone a change of heart. A deep one. A very deep one.” It was not the most flattering or elegant phrasing, but he had to begin this dreaded conversation somehow.

  “I hadn’t noticed.” Cedric’s voice held a fair amount of suspicion.

  “It was not something I wanted anyone to see, Cedric. Look, what I am trying to tell you…” The words were there, but Cedric’s hard eyes stilled them on Lucien’s tongue, daring him to ask for something he had no right to ask for. Lucien drew a shaky breath before continuing.

  “I seek your permission to marry Horatia.” How unlike him, but he had to maintain his control for this brief moment and formality was the simplest way to go.

  “So it’s true then? You have your eyes set on my sister?”

  Lucien knew Cedric in the way only true friends could and recognized that familiar edge of danger in Cedric’s tone.

  “I love her, Cedric…”

  “Stop! You do not love her. You may love her body and the pleasure it gives but she will not be one more lady in the line of women you leave behind brokenhearted. Not my Horatia.” Cedric’s fists clenched at his side. Even twenty feet apart Lucien did not feel safe.

  “Easy, Cedric. I am not that man anymore. Let me explain—”

  “I will not listen to your lies, Lucien.” Cedric stormed over and shoved a finger deep into Lucien’s chest. “Save it for the next chit you fancy! You are breaking the rules our League was built on. I demand that you stay away from Horatia. That you won’t even look at her.”

  “No.” Lucien was weary of controlling himself. Cedric would listen to him, even if he had to bind him to a chair.

  Cedric’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

  “I said no. We agreed to the second rule because we did not trust each other with the fairer sex, and rightfully so. But time changes us all. I love Horatia and I wish to wed her. I want a passel of children and her love in my life for the rest of my days. I have asked her to marry me and she has agreed. I came to you for the sake of our friendship and because you are her family. I do not need your permission to have her, because I already do.” It was the worst possible to thing to say and Lucien realized it too late.

  Cedric’s fist drove into Lucien’s stomach, staggering him back. Cedric followed and landed another solid blow to Lucien’s chest, so hard that he fell back and struck a bookshelf.

  “How dare you lay claim to her! She is not yours to take!” Cedric swung another fist and Lucien was struck yet again as he was cornered against the shelf.

  “And she is not yours to lock away! Horatia always has and always will be her own person. She gifted me with her heart and though I do not even begin to deserve her, she wants me and no one else. So I will have her as my wife and do my best to be worthy. You may not support her decision, but by God you will not punish her for loving me.” Lucien’s body shook with rage as Cedric pulled him back and threw another fist into him. Cedric stumbled into one of the library’s suits of armor, knocking it over with a clang and clatter.

  “You’ve already had her, you blackguard?”

  Lucien said nothing.

  “She’s warmed your bed. She could be with your child even now!” The accusation stung Lucien more from the truth than anything else. Cedric knew him too well.

  “Yes,” Lucien said. “And if there is a babe growing in her now, the thought fills me with a love I cannot begin to understand.”

  “You say that now. You may even believe it. But it does not matter. I know how you are, how cold you’ve been not just to her, but to other women. I don’t care if my sister is your only chance at salvation, you will not have her. Not while I still draw breath.”

  The threat hit Lucien like a bolt of lightning. His senses frazzled as once more Cedric assaulted him with pummeling fists, again beating him back against the bookshelf. Lucien did not fight back. It would do no good.

  “What do you mean by that?” Lucien asked.

  Cedric puffed up his chest, as though addressing a condemned man. “I demand satisfaction, as is my right. Tomorrow at dawn. Choose a second and your preferred weapon.”

  “I will not duel with you, Cedric.” Lucien could not believe it could come to this. The League often joked about Cedric being capable of such things, but none believed it.

  “You will, or I will summon the rest of the League here and we will determine how to put you straight for breaking the second rule.”

  Lucien knew Cedric would be relentless on the matter, even if the others objected. The thought made his blood run cold. “Very well. I will be in the northern field at dawn with my second. I will bring my weapon of choice.”

  “Good.” Cedric’s eyes were filled with both anger and regret, but he said nothing more and turned to leave.

  Lucien wanted to unsay the words that had brought them to this point, but Cedric was gone, and Lucien was alone in the library. Pain surged through him, reminders of all of the blows his friend had laid on him.

  He stood next to the bookshelf for what felt like an eternity, catching his breath until he realized he was not alone. His sister, Lysandra, came out from behind the shelf he leaned against.

  “How long have you been there?” He tried to sound harsh, but his words came out toneless.

  Lysandra brushed a fingertip across her eyes, wiping tears from their corners. “Oh Lucien!”

  She ran to him and he crumpled weakly in her arms. Falling to his knees on the wood floor, Lysandra was dragged down with him, still cradling him as he gasped for breath. What madness was this? To love Horatia and in the process lose Cedric? It wasn’t fair and he shouldn’t have to choose.

  “There, there,” Lysandra said, stroking his hair in the way he’d done countless times for her. After a few minutes, he was able to control himself once more.

  “You mustn’t tell a soul, Lysa. No one must know what has happened here. Do you understand?”

  “I do. Mother will never forgive you for fighting a duel on Christmas.”

  “I may not be around to suffer her ill humor.” Lucien had no fear of death, even at his friend’s hand, but the thought of all those years wasted without Horatia clenched his heart like nothing else.

  “Dueling is illegal. You don’t have to go through with it.”

  “It’s a matter of honor. Of love.”

  “What good are those words on a tombstone?”

  “Cedric won’t let up just because I say no. He’ll brand me a coward on top of everything else. Horatia cannot marry a coward. And though marrying a coward is not illegal, it should be.”

  “You’re being ridiculous, and you cannot deflect a bullet with your wit.”

  Lucien gave pause at Lysandra’s words. “Yes… Duels are ridiculous, aren’t they? No matter. We do what we must, even when it is ridiculous.” He looked over the mess the one sided battle had left in its wake. An idea began to form, and most certainly a ridiculous one.

  “So you are going to shoot him?” Lysandra asked.

  “I love him like a brother. So far I’ve never shot any of my real brothers, and I won’t start with Cedric. He may be too foolish to understand the truth,
but come what may, I will not fire my pistol at him.”

  Horatia was the most beautiful woman in the room that night after dinner. Lucien noticed this with a deep pang in his heart, regret and longing for a future he might never have now, left him quiet. All had enjoyed a wonderful feast marred only by Cedric and Lucien’s silence towards one another. Now, family and friends were in the Russell ballroom dancing to a hired string quartet that performed Christmas music. The entire evening took on a greater importance to Lucien than ever before.

  He danced with all of the ladies once, but kept returning to Horatia, as though keeping her in his arms would ensure that the night wouldn’t end and dawn wouldn’t have a chance to come. Cedric, for his part, kept his distance, allowing him this night like a final wish before the gallows.

  Lucien’s hand rested on the small of her back. He could feel the warmth of her body beneath his palm. Her gloved hand rested on his broad shoulder, fingers lightly curling in a tender possessiveness. Horatia wore his gown and it fit her perfectly, the embroidered silks clung to her in a way he wished he could. She held only radiant smiles tonight, and all sadness was banished by the merriment of the Christmas season. She had never looked lovelier in his eyes and he told her so.

  “I am happy, Lucien. You made me so.” She tightened her grip on his shoulder and his hand during their endless waltz.

  “Would that I could always make you so happy, my love,” he murmured too softly for her to hear over the music.

  When at last the music faded Lady Rochester clapped her hands together.

  “All right everyone, enough dancing. It is time for presents!” The announcement was followed by hearty cheers from the younger people in the ballroom. The group proceeded to the large parlor just off the ballroom where a roaring fire greeted them and refreshments of small Christmas puddings and freshly made wassail was ready to be drunk. Lucien’s mind was not on Christmas puddings however. He did his best to ignore the concerned looks his sister kept shooting from across the room.

  Just let me enjoy these last few hours…please, he beseeched fate helplessly.

  Lucien felt almost reckless now, wanting to hold Horatia in his arms without a care as to who saw them. God, how he wanted her, how he loved her. Horatia seemed emboldened by the evening as they moved to a small settee. Under the waves of red silk from her gown his hand found hers and he gripped it like a man dying of thirst would a goblet of water.

  From across the room Cedric’s eyes were sharp, but he made no move against them. Lucien’s body ached with the reminder of Cedric’s righteous fury. Each breath, each twist of his body was a reminder of the animosity that had stolen Cedric’s friendship from him like a cruel thief. It was agony, this choice which was no choice at all.

  “Here, Lucien. This is for you,” Horatia said in a breathless voice.

  She looked as though she feared it would not be to his liking. Lucien smiled at her, thankful for the distraction as he took the package and opened it. In his lap he found a book titled Astronomy and Mythology. It was a history of the tales behind the constellations.

  Grinning like the lovestruck fool he was, he opened the inside cover to find an inscription—Happy Christmas, Lucien, may we forever share the stars. He had never been one for poetry, but that single line had his heart both soaring and breaking. After the coming dawn there would be no more stars, no more tales, no more love…not without the cost of losing his best friend. The chances of dying in the duel were not as great as some made it out to be. That was the effect of pride on those who took part. But the truth was regardless of the outcome it would be devastating because it would tear the families apart. Horatia would lose him or her brother. No one would emerge from this unscathed.

  “There’s more.” Horatia prodded with a cheeky smile as she pointed to the center of the book. He tugged a long slender strip of crimson silk out from the center pages. Too long for a bookmark, it was embroidered with silver stars and crescent moons.

  “I thought you might find other uses for that.” Horatia nibbled her lower lip with a gleam in her eyes. Damn the woman, she was perfect. Too bloody perfect.

  The attention of the others in the room was diverted by Lucinda and Lysandra admiring Audrey’s new fawn gloves.

  “I love you,” he mouthed silently

  “I love you too,” Horatia mouthed back.

  “And this is your gift,” Lucien said quietly, sliding her a small package behind the shelter of her skirts.

  “But you already gave me mine,” she said.

  “When it comes to you, my love, I cannot seem to control myself.” Lucien smiled as she began to unwrap the small gift, uncovering a velvet pouch. With a curious look she loosened the drawstrings and tipped it over. A slender bracelet of sapphires encircled by diamonds fell into her lap. Horatia’s hands flew to her mouth.

  “It was my grandmother’s on my mother’s side. She gave it to me when I was fifteen. She told me to give it to the woman who held my heart. I remember I laughed, telling her no one would ever have my heart, but the crafty old woman knew me better than I did myself. She told me to keep it and one day I’d know who to give it to.

  “That night in the Midnight Garden when you spoke of the stars…I knew that this was meant for you. Even when I raged at you that night I still knew that you had to have this bracelet. You are the keeper of my heart. Take this gift and wear it when you think of me. These jewels are as close as I can get to stealing the stars and adorning you with them.” Lucien took her right hand and gently secured the bracelet around her wrist.

  Horatia marveled at the stunning glint of the gems in the firelight before Lucien slid her glove over the bracelet and covered it. Horatia gazed back at him wordlessly. She had never looked more beautiful, more wonderful. The angels paled in comparison, and no saints possessed brighter halos of innocence and purity of soul than his darling sweet Horatia.

  “Lucien.” She tried to say more but he could hear the break in her voice. She was overjoyed, filled with love and it humbled him.

  When the last of the presents had been unwrapped, Sir John began to belt out carols in a deep rich baritone. His son, Avery and Lawrence all joined in while Lysandra and Audrey dissolved into giggles whenever the four men bungled the words. Linus stood by the fire fiddling with a woolen, navy blue scarf he’d received from Lucinda Cavendish. She joined him by the fire and with a small smile pushed his hands away and set about adjusting his scarf herself. Linus gazed down at her in open desire and admiration. Only Lucien seemed to notice when Linus set a hand on the young woman’s waist and pulled her a few inches closer to him.

  Hot cider was brought by a maid and once more conversation settled about the room like the distant hum of bees on a summer day.

  “I wish it could always be like this,” Horatia sighed dreamily.

  Lucien agreed. There was nothing more wonderful than being warm and drowsy in a fire lit parlor surrounded by one’s family and friends while snow laced the world outside.

  “I do too.” Lucien tightened his hold on Horatia’s hand and drank in the sight of her and his own family—the twinkle of his sister’s eyes, and the mischievous grins of his brothers. Even the reluctant grin of Cedric who was allowing Audrey to fuss over him while he tried on his new red hunting coat.

  It was well past midnight when everyone decided to go to bed and the party reluctantly dispersed. Lucien retreated to his room and let his valet, Felix, prepare him for bed. Felix tried to hide a yawn and gave Lucien a weary smile as he went off to the servants’ quarters. Lucien donned his nightclothes and was in the process of wrapping his dressing gown about his bruised body when there was a knock on his bedroom door.

  He went to open it and found a nightgown clad Horatia peering up at him in the dim light of the hallway.

  “May I come in?” She slipped past him before he could answer and went straight for his bed, climbing in between the
turned down covers.

  “What about Ursula? Won’t she worry about you being gone?” He closed the door to his bedroom.

  “She knows where I am and that she is to keep her silence on my whereabouts. I think she likes you, even if she does think you’re a rogue.”

  “I am a rogue.” He stiffened his spine and mock scowled at her.

  “Of course you are,” she answered in a tone one used to placate a fussy child and patted the spot on the sheets beside her. “Your bed is icy, my lord, come and warm me up.” She spoke like a princess wanting her devoted knight to heed her every wish. And Lucien was that knight.

  “Yes, my lady.” He bowed with a mocking grin and she threw a pillow at him.

  “It will take more than pillows to stop me, love.” He blew out the remaining candles before peeling off his robe. He didn’t want Horatia to see the bruises her brother had wrought on his body.

  “Now, about warming you up.” Lucien tugged her into his arms beneath the covers.

  What followed was a sort of lovemaking he’d never done before. No restraints, no delving into darker passions. He was tender and slow, and he poured his soul into every kiss and gave her his heart with every caress. Horatia cried out again and again beneath him. Lucien painted her face in his mind, ecstasy ravishing her features in the moonlight. He wanted to capture the beauty that was Horatia’s alone.

  This…he thought as he finally allowed himself to reach his release close to dawn in her arms, this is worth dying for. He briefly shut his eyes, hoping to catch an hour of sleep before Felix came to wake him.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “It is time, my lord,” Felix whispered, rousing Lucien from his bittersweet dreams. With great care he disentangled his body from Horatia’s. She remained asleep, but she spread one arm out unconsciously seeking his vanished warmth and Lucien felt her loss like a blow. He dared not touch her, dared not get too close or he’d wake her and never be able to leave.