The Second Seduction Read online

  inside the breakfast room. She had questions to ask. Had he

  been in her room earlier? Had he pushed her from her bed?

  Did he wish her ill?

  She moved closer. “Good morning.”

  Hastings’ face was expressionless, his glance indiff er-

  ent. Rosalind’s heart thumped as every one of her questions

  tangled together like a ball of twine inside her head. Her

  throat tightened while she stared helplessly at her husband

  35

  SHELLEY MUNRO

  who wasn’t a husband. Where did she start?

  His long hair was tied back this morning, accentuating

  obsidian eyes, his unfashionable tan. His one dark glance

  sliced right through her, sensitizing her body and making her

  aware of the way her corset laced across her breasts. A pain

  in her chest reminded her to breathe. She wished he’d say

  something. Anything!

  But his face remained impassive and his gaze swept her

  from head to foot. He stood and turned, the light streaming

  into the breakfast room highlighting his scar with merciless

  attention to detail. Hastings moved to the chair at the far

  end of the table and pulled it out. One brow arched as he

  indicated silently she should sit.

  Rosalind walked toward him, regarding him with caution.

  For an instant, her mind screamed to run, but she continued

  to approach until she stood before him.

  He seated her with brisk effi

  ciency, but didn’t speak or

  touch her in any way. Rosalind’s heart thudded. Heat rose to

  her cheeks. She sucked in a deep breath and was assailed by

  sandalwood and a more subtle masculine scent that made her

  insides jolt.

  “Th

  ank you,” she murmured, her questions whirring and

  racing through her mind at breakneck speed. Now if only she

  could fi nd the courage to state them out loud without fear of

  36

  THE SECOND SEDUCTION

  mangling her words. Rosalind cleared her throat. “I . . .”

  Hastings nodded, a hurried impersonal nod, and strode

  from the room without a word.

  Rosalind’s mouth dropped open. She stared after him, a

  sharp pain jabbing at her heart. Tears pricked at her eyes, and

  her headache returned with vengeance.

  Hastings was her husband, but he acted as though he

  hated her.

  37

  III

  Rosalind poured chocolate into a dainty porcelain cup

  but stared at the swirls in the dark liquid rather than

  trying to drink it. A sigh that was almost a sob escaped. Th

  e

  sound seemed to hang in the breakfast room before it faded to

  nothing. Rosalind bit her bottom lip; she swallowed. Steam

  drifted off the chocolate. She reached out to pick up her cup,

  but her hand shook so badly she gave up. Instead, she stared

  in the direction Hastings had disappeared.

  Alone.

  She’d never felt so isolated in all her life, not even when

  her grandmother had died. Nothing had prepared her for this

  situation. Nothing.

  She swiped away a bothersome tear with the back of her

  hand. When the slap-slap of footsteps heralded an arrival,

  THE SECOND SEDUCTION

  she snatched up a napkin and rapidly dabbed at her eyes.

  Th

  en she reached for her chocolate and hoped she wouldn’t

  spill it.

  “Th

  ere you are, miss.” Exasperation colored Mary’s terse

  words. “I’ve searched everywhere for you. Too many rooms

  in this pile of stones.”

  “I decided to come down for breakfast.” Rosalind fi xed

  her attention on her chocolate again, feeling the full weight

  of Mary’s disapproval. Don’t cry, she prayed fervently. She

  stared so hard her eyes ached. Th

  ank goodness it was Mary

  and not the earl or Charles — or even worse, Lady Augusta.

  She hoped Mary wouldn’t notice the tears and interrogate her

  because she had no intention of discussing her marriage. Her

  feelings for Hastings were personal. Private.

  Mary stomped up to the table where Rosalind sat,

  coming to a halt right in front of her. She planted her hands

  fi rmly on her rounded hips and huff ed at Rosalind’s state-

  ment, her forehead creased in a frown. “You be acting like a

  child. You might have told me. Before I hiked to the kitchens

  and back.”

  Rosalind’s mouth fi rmed at the censure, but she admit-

  ted to her poor behavior. It was only right. “I’m sorry, Mary.

  Would you like to go for a walk?” It was an apology, but a

  double-edged one. Mary hated walking.

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  SHELLEY MUNRO

  Her maid huff ed again. “I’ll fetch your cloak. It be

  cold outdoors.”

  “You’re coming with me?”

  “I don’t like this pile of stones,” Mary mumbled, glanc-

  ing over her shoulder as though she expected someone to leap

  at her. “A body be much safer outdoors.”

  Rosalind gaped at Mary. Her maid habitually wore a grin

  while her eyes sparkled with life. Th

  e doom and gloom was an

  uncharacteristic change. Rosalind’s brow puckered but before

  she could form a question, Mary stomped from the breakfast

  room leaving Rosalind alone with her puzzlement. She would

  ask Mary what she meant at the fi rst opportunity.

  Five minutes later, wrapped warmly against the biting

  wind, they walked past the crumbling North tower. Th

  e part

  that still stood was partially covered with ivy.

  Rosalind slowed. “Have you heard anything about the

  tower?”

  “Aye.” Mary grabbed Rosalind’s arm and forced her to

  walk faster. She darted a glance over her shoulder and made

  the sign of a cross with her free hand. “It be haunted.”

  Doubt made Rosalind frown again, but curiosity over-

  came her. “By whom?”

  “A St. Clare ancestor. Lady Margaret. Th

  ey say her be-

  trothed ran off with another. Went mad, she did. Retired to

  40

  THE SECOND SEDUCTION

  the North tower and never came out.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “Th

  e maids have heard her. Th

  ey say her screams foretell

  bad luck. Of a death to come.” Mary swallowed loudly. “She

  screamed last night.”

  Rosalind studied the decaying tower for a brief moment

  then jerked her gaze away. Th

  ere were enough strange noises

  and unexplained happenings at Castle St. Clare without let-

  ting Mary fi ll her head with more nonsense. “Make haste,

  Mary. I want to leave before Lady Augusta catches me.”

  “Th

  is be a fearsome place,” Mary declared, seeming to

  read her mind and sense her uneasiness. “Ghosts. Strange

  noises and the sort.”

  Th

  ey walked through the gate and Rosalind glanced

  up. Th

  e spikes of the portcullis glinted, dangerous and as

  deadly as the day they’d been installed. She shuddered at the

  thought o
f the spikes piercing her skin, spearing through her

  body and crushing limbs, and hastened her steps toward the

  cliff top path.

  Mary was right about one thing. Th

  ere was something

  strange about Castle St. Clare. And Hastings seemed right

  in the thick of the mystery. A fl icker of apprehension swept

  through her, leaving a nasty taste in her mouth. He looked

  sinister at times, especially if the sun caught his face at the

  41

  SHELLEY MUNRO

  right angle, but surely he didn’t mean her harm? A breath

  clogged her throat. No, she refused to believe it.

  But someone had skulked in her chamber this morning.

  Someone had pushed her from bed. Someone intended to

  harm her . . .

  Th

  e path tapered, becoming too narrow for both of them

  to walk abreast. Rosalind strode out ahead, in a most unlady-

  like manner, trying to outdistance her turbulent thoughts.

  “Miss Rosalind, slow down. Please.” Mary’s plaintive gasp,

  interspersed with wheezy pants, made Rosalind slow. One glimpse

  of her maid’s red cheeks and the guilt was instantaneous.

  “Oh, Mary. I’m sorry. How thoughtless of me. I’m bad

  company today, I fear.”

  “Probably the knock on your noggin this morning.”

  Rosalind wanted to smile. Mary’s motivation was clear.

  She intended to save Rosalind from herself no matter the con-

  sequences. “Are you recovered enough to continue walking?”

  Mary groaned and rolled her eyes. “Yes, Miss. As long as

  you don’t turn our walk into a race.”

  Th

  ey continued along the cliff top path, but at a much

  slower pace. Rosalind led the way, navigating a collapsed

  stone wall that littered the path, skirting the lethal branches

  of a thorny hedge until she came to an open space in the

  undergrowth. Th

  ey could turn toward the copse of trees to

  42

  THE SECOND SEDUCTION

  their right or continue along the cliff path. She smiled, feel-

  ing happy for the fi rst time since she’d woken on the fl oor

  this morning.

  Th

  e view of the sea stretched as far as the eye could see.

  Shades of blue and green and gray with frothy white tops

  on the waves made her itch to paint the scene. Not that her

  talents would do the panorama justice.

  Th

  ey’d walked far enough that Castle St. Clare was no

  longer visible, obscured by trees, the hedge, and a jutting out-

  crop of pale limestone. Rosalind paused to look down. Th

  e

  sea churned and tossed, waves crashing to shore and thrash-

  ing against the base of the cliff in a thunderous fi nale. She

  turned to beam at Mary. “Look, it’s beautiful.”

  “It’s cold,” Mary stated as she stopped beside Rosalind

  and huddled into her woolen cloak. She stared off into the

  distance then grinned cheekily. “Viscount Hastings, he’s

  coming this way. Probably to meet you.”

  Rosalind whirled, the wind whipping her curls across

  her face. She brushed an errant lock away from her eyes and

  watched Hastings approach on horseback, her heart lurching

  with sudden alarm.

  “I will return to the castle on my own,” Mary said.

  “No!” Rosalind grabbed Mary’s arm. “Don’t leave me.”

  Mary’s ginger brows shot up. “But he’s your husband.”

  43

  SHELLEY MUNRO

  “No, I . . .” Mary’s grin made her face fl ush hotly.

  Th

  e thud of hooves made them both turn. Mary

  sketched a brief curtsey while Rosalind merely stared up at

  her husband, her pulse thundering. Her gaze danced across

  his face, taking in his scar before moving up to meet his eyes.

  Mocking cynicism and the underlying pain she encountered

  made Rosalind wrench her gaze away. It took a few brief

  seconds to focus, to look back at the man she was married

  to, but by then the damage was done. An indiff erent mask

  covered his emotions.

  Hastings towered over them, moving as one with his

  mount. Th

  e black horse skittered at the raucous cry of a

  seagull. Hastings held the animal fi rmly in check with a quiet

  word and a soothing pat on its glossy neck.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” he said, turning his attention

  back to her. Rosalind noticed he treated his horse with more

  consideration than her. Th

  e fact rankled.

  Rosalind glanced about for Mary, but her maid had crept

  off while her attention was on Hastings. All Rosalind saw was

  a fl ash of brown as Mary hurried down the path toward the

  castle and disappeared. Th

  e traitor. Make no mistake, she

  would have words with Mary later.

  Th

  e horse shifted again, jerking her attention back to the

  man sitting atop the beast, reminding her of his edict. His

  44

  THE SECOND SEDUCTION

  highhandedness. “Why can’t I go walking?”

  “Th

  e cliff top is unstable in places. It’s dangerous.”

  He’d spoken directly to her! Rosalind sniff ed. “I want

  to walk on the beach.” Bother. Now she sounded like a

  sulky child.

  Hastings frowned, but he stared out to sea instead of

  looking at her. “You shouldn’t be alone, especially down in

  the cove.”

  “I wasn’t,” Rosalind snapped. He couldn’t bear to look her

  in the face. Hands curled to fi sts at her side, while she burned

  to spit out angry words, words that would wound as she was

  wounded. For an even-tempered person, she was fi nding it

  diffi

  cult to remain calm. Why wouldn’t he look at her? She

  knew she was no beauty, not like her cousin, Miranda, but

  she was by no means ugly or ill-formed. Counseling patience

  and feminine serenity, Rosalind silently counted to fi ve.

  It wouldn’t hurt her to try for politeness, especially if

  her attempt broke the strained, chilly atmosphere between

  them. “Th

  ank you for warning me of the danger. I’ll make

  sure I keep well back from the edge.” Th

  ere. He’d warned her,

  and she’d acknowledged the danger. Th

  at should be an end

  of it. Rosalind stepped off the path to give horse and rider

  room to move away. When they remained, she edged past,

  determined to continue with her exploring. She was used

  45

  SHELLEY MUNRO

  to walking around her uncle’s estate. No harm would befall

  her out here. At the thought of danger, her hand crept up to

  fi nger the bump on her head. Inside Castle St. Clare however,

  was another matter.

  Lucien frowned at the English woman as she sauntered

  away from him. His wife, he corrected himself when Oberon

  shifted uneasily beneath him. Absently, he soothed his mount

  while he stared after his departing wife. Although petite, the

  fi rm set of her mouth told him she was hell-bent on going

  down to the cove. And that was dangerous
— too dangerous.

  Only last night, he’d witnessed smugglers landing a cargo in

  the cove. He cursed under his breath.

  God knows what the smugglers had hidden in the caves

  that ran from the cove inland. Th

  ey wouldn’t take kindly to

  people nosing about if they used the caves for storage. He

  frowned, not happy with the smuggler situation but knowing

  that many of the villagers relied on the income to make ends

  meet. Th

  ey would suff er if he stamped his authority on the

  situation, and he couldn’t allow that. Th

  e situation had to

  be handled carefully, without violence. Until he had alterna-

  tive methods of raising funds, the smugglers stayed. With the

  support they received from the local aristocracy, he’d have

  a battle to remove them anyway. Lucien cursed under his

  breath. Th

  ere was no alternative.

  46

  THE SECOND SEDUCTION

  He would have to go with her.

  Lucien stared at the back of her head, his gaze skittering

  down to notice the feminine sway of her hips, the fl ash of a

  stocking clad ankle.

  Cursing inwardly, he ripped his gaze away, leapt off

  Oberon and hurried after the woman, leading his horse

  behind him. “Wait!” He grabbed her upper arm with his free

  hand and spun her around to face him.

  Her chin jerked up and her pale blue eyes dared him to

  exert further force.

  “I’ll be careful, you can be sure. I don’t require watch-

  ing like a child.” Th

  e words were enunciated carefully. Pre-

  cisely. Th

  en her brows shot up, and she directed her gaze to

  his hand.

  “I will show you the path down to the beach,” Lucien mut-

  tered, releasing her. He paused, shocked. Th

  at was not what

  he’d meant to say. He’d meant to order her to return home.

  “It’s not safe to wander on your own here,” he fi nally ground

  out. “Take a footman next time. Or one of the stable lads.”

  “I’m used to wandering the estate at home. At will.”

  “Th

  is is your home now,” Lucien said. He narrowed his

  eyes and the scar on his cheek pulled as all his facial muscles

  tensed. Francesca would have laughed and made him laugh

  in return until she got her own way. Pain lanced through his

  47

  SHELLEY MUNRO

  mind, pulsated in the region of his heart, and the taut sensa-

  tion on his face increased. “You will obey. Take a footman on

  your outings or you will stay at the castle.”