thought with satisfaction, tonight he’d been very attentive.
Was she wrong to wish for more? Th
e yearning for a loving
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partnership and children was like a closed fi st squeezing her
heart. Rosalind ached for Hastings’ love, his friendship.
Th
e candle fl ickered out without warning and the room
settled into darkness. Rosalind punched her pillow, lay back,
and pulled the covers over her shivering body. Her heart
pounded unaccountably, as it often did when she was alone
in her chamber. A shiver swept her body. Malignant eyes
watched again. For several days now, watchful eyes followed
her every action. It didn’t seem to matter what time of the
day or night. Th
en there was the mystery of her disappearing
gowns . . . Rosalind frowned in the darkness. Th
e appear-
ance of the new gowns was a mystery too. She’d meant to ask
Hastings but hadn’t managed to fi nd the right time during
dinner, not when Lady Helena monopolized his attention.
Th
e sensation of being watched heightened. Rosalind
sat up abruptly. Licking her lips, she stared into the dark-
ness, searching for the unknown entity that stalked her, that
watched and waited until she questioned her sanity. Rosa-
lind strained to hear the slightest noise that would prove she
wasn’t mad, but she could hear nothing above the groaning
wind and rain.
Ignoring the pounding heart and the smothering unease,
she lay back and resolutely closed her eyes.
A mistake.
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THE SECOND SEDUCTION
Imagination took fl ight, growing with each rattle of
thunder. Rosalind gasped, bounding upright in the bed. Th
e
back of her neck prickled. Th
e small hairs on her arms and
legs stood to attention.
A sound that could have been a footstep hiked her heart-
beat to a gallop.
“Who’s there?” Her voice sounded tiny and scared. Ro-
salind swallowed, the noise loud to her ears. She fumbled
for the bell-pull and tugged frantically. She wanted a candle.
Not knowing what loomed in the inky black darkness was
worse than being able to see the threat face to face. “Noir?
Here, kitty.”
An eternity later, a brisk tap sounded on her door.
“Come in,” Rosalind called.
Th
e door opened and a light fl ickered, illuminating a
maid’s face. “Can I get you something, Lady Rosalind?”
“Th
ere seems to be a draft. My candle blew out.”
Th
e maid surged forward. “I’ll light it for you.”
“Th
ank you.” With the maid’s reassuring presence, Ro-
salind’s heartbeat slowed. Th
e fl ickering light of the second
candle was infi nitely welcome. Where was Noir? She couldn’t
see her kitten anywhere and desperately needed his comfort-
ing presence. He’d developed the habit of hiding and pounc-
ing out at her ankles when she least expected it.
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“Will that be all, Lady Rosalind?”
Rosalind resisted the cowardly urge to order the maid to
stay, at least until she’d found her kitten. After a pause, she
exhaled softly, acknowledging the truth. Th
e fewer people
who knew about Noir’s extra toes the better. “Yes, thank you.
Th
at will be all.”
Th
e maid curtsied and withdrew. Rosalind acknowl-
edged she couldn’t allow fear to rule her life. She slid from
the canopied bed and picked up the candle. Holding it aloft,
she walked the perimeter of the chamber, searching for a clue
to prove she wasn’t sinking into madness.
Th
ere! Th
ere on the Persian rug. A trail of sandy footprints.
Rosalind didn’t think twice. She raced from her chamber,
heading for Hastings’ adjoining room. In the early days of
their marriage, she’d tested the door between them. Hastings
kept it locked. Rosalind hammered on his door and waited.
Nothing happened. She glanced over her shoulder. Was that
something moving behind her? Deciding not to wait and
fi nd out, she opened the door and burst through. Something
— Noir — streaked in front of her. Rosalind toppled to the
ground with an unladylike grunt while her kitten scampered
out of the room.
“Ouch,” she muttered, rubbing at her knee with one
hand, her right hand still holding the candle aloft.
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THE SECOND SEDUCTION
“What the hell? Who’s there?” Hastings sounded bel-
ligerent and annoyed at the disruption.
“Me,” Rosalind said in a small voice. At least he was here
for a change. She scrambled to her feet, mortifi ed to realize
she’d pulled up her nightgown to rub her knee. What must
he think of her?
“What the devil are you doing in my room?” He sat up to
lounge against the pillows, watching her with his dark eyes.
Rosalind’s chin lifted on hearing his tone. “Someone was
in my bedroom.”
“A servant,” he stated, holding up his left hand to inspect
his fi ngernails.
Rosalind’s eyes narrowed at the nonverbal slap. “Do you
think I’m stupid?” Th
e words tripped from her tongue before
she could stop them. Rosalind stomped up to the bed, and
her hand snaked out to seize his arm. “Come with me,” she
ordered. “I’ll show you.”
Th
e intimacy of the moment exploded on her con-
science all at once. Warm, naked skin pulsed beneath her
touch. She averted her gaze, positive every sinful thought
that raced through her head showed on her face, and jerked
her hand from his muscled arm before her gift shattered the
intimate moment.
“Would you like me to dress fi rst?” he murmured.
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Rosalind’s eyes shot to his chest. She had no idea how
she’d missed the broad expanse of bare skin. Fascinated, her
gaze wandered at will. Starting at the point where her hand
touched his arm, her eyes moved up over the bulge of his
biceps to his strong neck. Heat converged on her cheeks, but
Rosalind was unwilling to halt her visual exploration.
“Rosalind?”
Rosalind looked up, met his gaze, and quivered, help-
lessly trapped in the moment. She couldn’t look away. She
didn’t want to look away.
Hastings swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Rosa-
lind followed the movement. Long legs sprinkled with dark
hairs . . . No clothes!
“Still feeling brave, Rosalind?”
Her heart thumped frantically against her ribs. She felt
like a child who’d run about playing in the garden until she
collapsed in exhaustion. Rosalind studied the rise and fall of
his chest. A sprinkling of dark hair ran
across his chest, and
lower. Two dark nipples showed, yet he looked diff erent from
her — strong and rugged. Th
e urgent desire to touch made
her hand itch. While she hovered indecisively, battling against
need, he stood. Th
e covers dropped away. And Rosalind saw
her husband in his full glory.
Her eyes bulged. Her heart pumped in a rapid rhythm.
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THE SECOND SEDUCTION
Suddenly unsteady on her feet, she ran clammy hands down
her nightgown to wipe them dry.
A soft sound jerked her gaze northward. Th
e amusement
in Hastings’ eyes made her fi dget and step from foot to foot.
Part of her wanted to run and hide while the rest wanted
to act with a boldness that made her blush again. Curiosity
burned. She had many unanswered questions. Was his skin
the same texture as hers?
“Like what you see?” Th
e instant the words left his
mouth, Lucien wanted to curse. What the hell was he doing
taunting her like this? Taunting himself, his conscience
prodded, because, like it or not, his body was reacting to her
presence and basking in her innocence. Pretty soon, she was
going to notice, or at least wonder why his body parts were
expanding.
Lucien grabbed up a pair of breeches and stepped into
them.
“I’ve nothing to compare you with, so I’m not sure,”
she blurted.
“Nothing to . . .” Th
e raspy crack of laughter astonished
him as much as it did Rosalind, if her gaping mouth was
anything to judge by. He fastened the breeches, keeping his
gaze on her face. Curious. Inquisitive yet brave, given the way
he was guilty of barking at her on occasion. Why didn’t she
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give up on him? Swift on the heels of his thought came the
realization he’d miss her attention.
She held up her candle to peer at him, and he had to
smother his amusement. Did she realize he could see straight
through the nightgown when she held her candle up like that?
For a tiny thing, she was surprisingly well endowed. Th
e stir-
ring at his groin wrenched his thoughts to an abrupt halt.
“Who was in your room?” he asked, deciding a change of
subject would aid both of them. Hell of a lot safer.
“How should I know?” Her impatience was clear. “Come
and look. Are there secret passages leading from my cham-
ber? Th
at is the only thing I can think of that makes sense.
How else could a person enter my room without making the
door creak?”
Lucien stared, amusement bubbling to the surface yet
again. Th
at was the longest speech he’d heard from her. Th
e
mouse appeared to have the courage of a lion.
Lucien bowed. “After you, my lady.”
She swept from the room and stalked ahead of him, her
candle lighting the way. Lucien grinned. If she stuck her nose
much higher, she’d trip over her feet.
Th
e journey to Rosalind’s chamber took mere minutes. A
crafty way of luring him into her bed? Lucien pondered the
thought. His manhood tightened. Th
en he visualized Francesca.
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THE SECOND SEDUCTION
“Damn,” he muttered, willing his body to obedience.
As much as he loved his fi rst wife and mourned her
passing, he’d come to admire Rosalind for her bravery and
generosity in helping the village people without complaint.
Th
e perfect mistress for St. Clare, according to Aunt Au-
gusta. But thinking about her in a sexual manner made him
feel disloyal.
He stepped over the threshold and watched as Rosalind
lit another candle. He couldn’t help himself. She thrust the
candle at him and directed his attention to the fl oor.
“See,” she declared.
Lucien looked. A few grains of sand lay on the carpet.
“Th
e maid needs to do a better job cleaning your shoes.”
“What?”
Her shriek made him wince. And disappointment surged
to the fore. It was a scheme to get him into her chamber.
Lucien edged away toward the door. If he stayed he might
give into temptation . . .
Rosalind glared at the splotches of sand on the carpet.
“Th
ere were footprints,” she muttered. Her frown was frus-
trated as she glared at him. “Th
ey’re gone now, but they were
there. Th
e footprints were not my imagination.”
Lucien sensed she wasn’t going to let him return to bed
until the matter was settled to her satisfaction. “Where did
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they lead?”
One cotton-clad shoulder lifted in a helpless shrug. “I’m
not sure.”
“What do you want me to do?” A trace of impatience
escaped. He was here, wasn’t he?
“No one is listening to me. Mary has gone missing. She
wouldn’t just leave without telling me. We grew up together.
She has not run off with a lover. Since I arrived at Castle St.
Clare, I’ve been shot at by hunters, pushed out of bed, and
been under surveillance . . .”
“When were you pushed out of bed?” Lucien demanded.
It was the fi rst he’d heard of it.
“Th
e morning after our marriage.”
“You thought I did it? No, don’t try to deny it. It’s clear
from your face.”
“Well, who else would do it?”
Th
“Don’t look so aff ronted,” Rosalind snapped. “What
else was I meant to think when you kept trying to get me
to cry off ?”
“Th
at was . . .” Lucien stopped abruptly.
“Yes?” One blond brow arched.
“Diff erent. I didn’t push you from your bed!” Lucien
gave the walls of her chamber a fresh assessment. “So, you
178
THE SECOND SEDUCTION
think there is a secret passage?”
“I’ve looked several times but can’t see anything unusual.
Th
ere’s no other explanation. Do you remember playing in
hidden passages when you were a child?”
Lucien’s head snapped about to stare at her. “I thought
I made it clear my memory of the past is nil! How would
I know if there are passages?” Frustration churned his gut,
nagging like a painful boil. It was true fragments teased him
now and then, but they usually disappeared like mist, leaving
him angry and discouraged. He still didn’t believe he was the
long lost heir, Hastings. Nothing he’d seen or thought of so
far proved or disproved the notion. No, he belonged in Italy
on the Bacci estate. “Th
ere are no passages, no plot to murder
you or your maid. If that’s all, I’m returning to my chamber.
Good evening, madam.”
“Wait.” Rosa
lind lurched at him, grasping his arm so he
came to a halt. An almost pained look etched into her face.
“Don’t go.”
Startled, Lucien waited. Her hand tightened on his fore-
arm, her warmth shooting up his arm, then galloping to his
groin. Lucien smothered a gasp. Th
e speed of his physical
reaction astonished him. Francesca remained in his thoughts.
Constantly. And he continued with his determined search for
her killer. But, he found himself thinking of Rosalind too.
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Th
e scar tightened so he knew he frowned.
She was the type of person who touched others often. It
wasn’t an overly familiar action, more an off er of comfort, he
supposed. Th
e strange thing was the way her touch warmed
him and calmed his ruffl
ed thoughts.
“Th
ere’s no one in the room apart from us,” he mur-
mured. “Why don’t I summon a maid to keep you company?
I must travel to Dover on business tomorrow. It’s a long jour-
ney. I need to sleep even if you don’t.”
Rosalind fought the need to shake him. He was lying.
His need for sleep was an excuse for him to leave. Even if
she hadn’t read his thoughts she would have guessed by the
way he raked his hand through his hair. Th
ere! He’d done it
again. Her husband was uncomfortable in her presence and
it showed.
Th
e warmth from his skin worked its way up her arm,
followed by a tingling sensation. A picture started to form
in her mind. Rosalind grimaced at her bare feet. Not that
woman again! Fighting her was like battling a ghost. Impos-
sible. And she’d had enough. But, before Rosalind ripped her
hand off his arm, the picture formed. A man?
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Lucien’s hand smoothed up
her arm to her shoulder. Th
en, he patted her awkwardly. Like
one would pat a child on the head.
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THE SECOND SEDUCTION
“Nothing is wrong,” Rosalind said. “Don’t you have an
early start tomorrow morning?”
“Of course.”
Hastings strode to the door but glanced back over his
shoulder once, his brows drawn together in a baffl
ed look.
Rosalind bit back a snort. And he thought he was confused.
He should try living in her shoes for a few days, with other
people’s thoughts and memories swirling about his brain.
Th
en, he’d really know the meaning of confusion.
“Good night,” she said.
Th
e door clicked softly when he closed it, leaving Rosa-