The Second Seduction Page 7
Slowing her steps, she turned a slow circle. None of the por-
traits looked familiar. Had she walked this way this morning?
When she looked back in the direction she had come from,
she noted footprints on the fl oor. Her footprints. She turned
again and frowned at the lack of footprints. Th
is wasn’t the
way she’d walked this morning.
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“Bother.” She’d have to turn back and try walking the
other way. Castle St. Clare, she was learning, consisted of a
multitude of rooms. Some belonged to centuries earlier while
others, such as the rooms the family used for entertaining
guests, were recent additions. Trying to navigate the rooms
was like exploring a maze.
Rosalind turned left again and entered a cavern-like
room with a soaring ceiling. Wicked knives decorated the
walls while a ray of light from an arrow slit highlighted a
display of tarnished shields.
Another room she didn’t recognize from this morning.
Rosalind paused to study a rusty set of armor. A battle-axe
stood propped up against the wall alongside the armor.
When the kitten stirred, Rosalind stepped toward the
open door at the far end of the room. From a second arrow
slit, she caught a glimpse of the sea. Th
e grayish blue water
stretched as far as she could see. In that moment, Rosalind
decided to fi nd the entrance to one of the towers. Th
e climb
to the top would surely be worth the eff ort.
She paused to stare out another arrow slit. Th
e steady
drip-drip of water sounded continuously and a sudden blast
of cold air made her shiver. Th
e kitten quivered in her arms,
reminding Rosalind of the need to hurry. She whirled about
and moved toward the door at the far end of the armory room.
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A whooshing followed by a loud thump made her start, a
small cry of surprise escaping. Th
e battle-axe she’d noticed
hanging on the wall now lay on the fl oor, right where she had
stood but a few minutes ago.
Swallowing hastily to force her heart back to its rightful
place, she stared up at the place on the wall where the axe had
been. Th
e wooden hook hung at a drunken angle. A shudder
swept down her body as she realized how close she’d come
to injury.
Th
e same ill-at-ease sensation — as if someone spied
on her — made the area between her shoulder blades itch
insistently. Rosalind whirled, her gaze searching the room.
Nothing seemed out of place. Her nervous laugh echoed
back to her. Imagination. No doubt, the hook was old and
perhaps unstable. It was merely bad luck. Shaking off the
uneasy feeling as nonsense, Rosalind increased her pace and
burst into another unfamiliar passage, her shoes clattering
on the stone fl oor.
A lone sconce lit the way. Rosalind gasped, drawing in
a lung full of the musty air. Th
e uneasy feeling persisted.
Goosefl esh sprang up on her arms and legs. Rosalind glanced
over her shoulder again. Anxiety of the like she’d never felt
threatened to overwhelm her. Almost running now, she
plowed into an obstacle.
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THE SECOND SEDUCTION
A scream tore from her throat when she realized another
person clutched at her arms. “Let me go!”
“Lady Rosalind.” Th
e insistent voice pierced her panic,
cutting through the whimper of fear that escaped her throat.
“Lady Rosalind!” Th
is time a shake accompanied her name.
Her eyes focused on the man standing in front of her.
She smelled his shaving soap and the faint tang of the sea on
his clothes, along with smoke from a recently smoked pipe.
She sucked in a deep breath and fi nally found her voice. “Mr.
Soulden.” Her heart hammered alarmingly in her chest while
she concentrated on taking her next breath.
When she calmed, Charles Soulden’s hands dropped to
his sides. Concern shimmered in his blue eyes as he stepped
away. “Lady Rosalind. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“I . . . I wasn’t expecting anyone. I wasn’t looking where
I was going,” she muttered, feeling heat scorch her cheeks. “It
is I who must apologize.”
Charles Soulden sketched a bow. When he straightened,
he smiled with boyish charm. “No harm done.” He stepped
past Rosalind as if to leave.
“Wait!” Rosalind had no idea where she was. He couldn’t
leave her here. Lost. Not that she wanted to admit the fl oor
plan of the castle made her disoriented.
His blond brows rose toward his wig. “Can I help you in
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some way?”
Rosalind glanced down at the kitten in her hands. “Ah . . .
which way . . .?”
A grin twitched at the corners of his mouth. “It does take
time to learn how to negotiate the castle.”
In his cream breeches and jacket, he looked like a golden
angel. All that was missing was a pair of wings.
“I’m not lost,” Rosalind snapped, irritated at noticing his
good looks when she was a married woman.
“No, of course not. Walk to the end of this passage and
turn left. You should fi nd yourself at the end of the long
gallery near the chapel.”
“Th
ank you.” Th
e irritation that laced her voice was
immediately tempered by shame. He was being helpful; he
couldn’t help his good looks any more than Hastings was to
blame for the scar that ran the length of his face. “I can fi nd
my way from there.”
His grin widened as if he saw straight through her.
“What’s that you have there?”
“A kitten.”
His eyes twinkled mischievously. “Does Lady Augusta . . .?”
“Yes,” Rosalind said, her voice indicating she didn’t wish
to discuss the matter. Th
e kitten squirmed, making guilt
ripple through her. She’d dallied long enough. “I must go.
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THE SECOND SEDUCTION
Good day.”
“Good day, Lady Rosalind.”
Rosalind hurried down the passage, following Mr.
Soulden’s directions. Five minutes later, she burst into her
chamber more than a little out of breath.
Mary leapt up at the suddenness of her appearance, her
freckled face paling. “Miss? What on earth?”
“Where is my healing bag, Mary?”
“What do you have there?”
“A kitten. Th
e poor thing was half drowned when I found
it. I suspect it came from a ship, and it either fell or was tossed
into the sea. My bag, Mary.”
Mary bustled off and returned with Rosalind’s pouch of
herbs and ointments. “How could it survive, falling in the
water that way?” She drew closer then jerked back in alarm
when Rosali
nd pulled back her cloak. “It be black!”
Rosalind whirled on her maid. “Th
is is not a witch’s cat.”
“Hmmm.” Mary pursed her lips, looked as though she
might add another comment, but desisted on seeing Rosa-
lind’s glare.
“I need a hot brick to make a warm bed for the kitten.”
Rosalind turned her attention to the little creature. Still
damp and bedraggled, it shivered and looked downright piti-
ful. Huge, hazel-colored eyes gazed at her for an instant and
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then slid shut. Th
e kitten gave another convulsive shudder,
and Rosalind leapt into action.
She unwrapped the kitten and rubbed him briskly with
a soft linen towel. Th
en she checked the animal for injuries.
Although skinny and in need of food, there were no obvious
wounds or blood. Mary returned with a hastily made bed
and Rosalind was about to place the kitten inside when his
paws snared her attention, or his toes, to be more precise. She
gasped and whipped a cover over the kitten so only his head
was visible.
“Th
at cat is black,” Mary stated, with a toss of her head.
Rosalind frowned at the top of the kitten’s head. And he
had too many toes! Th
ank goodness Mary hadn’t seen.
A loud thump on the chamber door made them both
start. For an instant, they stared at each other. Th
e kitten had
made Rosalind forget her troubles, albeit for a short time. A
second insistent thump had Mary scurrying to answer. She
jerked the door open, then stilled. Rosalind froze too when
she saw who it was.
Hastings.
Rosalind settled her attention back on the kitten, rub-
bing it gently dry with the cover she had thrown over it. “My
lord? Can I help you with something?”
She hoped he wasn’t going to make her get rid of the
78
THE SECOND SEDUCTION
kitten after all. His forbidding expression indicated some-
thing dire. Th
en a thought occurred, and she gasped out
loud. He hadn’t come to bed her. Had he?
“I came to. . .” His mouth snapped shut and his scar
seemed to glow, making him look like a ghostly apparition
from one of Mary’s tales.
“Y . . . yes?” Her hands fl exed when she glanced at him.
Th
at one glimpse was all she needed. Apprehension battled
with disappointment as she accepted the truth of the matter.
His expression was that of a man acting against his will. Ro-
salind didn’t need to think overly hard on the matter. She
wanted an agreeable husband, one who wanted children as
much as she.
Lucien concentrated on the woman while inside he
railed at his stupidity. He shouldn’t have come, but then
he seemed to make one mistake after the other with the
English mouse.
He inhaled deeply, trying to prod sense into his dull
brain. Another mistake. Th
e room smelled of her, of fl owers
and greenery — the outdoors.
A cheerful fi re burned in the grate behind her, making
the pale blond hair glow like a full moon hanging in a velvet
sky. Jerking his gaze away from the sight, he tried to rid
his mind of the unwanted image. He cleared his throat in
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preparation to tell her why he had sought her company.
A soft shuffl
e to his right made him realize the maid was
witness to his stupidity.
“Johnson, the head groom is gifted in treating animals.
Take the beast to him.” Although he sounded abrupt, he
couldn’t stop the anger. Each time he looked at the woman
the fury built and grew, writhing inside him like a raging
beast, yet the sane part of him acknowledged he owed a duty
to her. Good or bad, she was now his wife. He tried to remind
himself she wasn’t responsible for Francesca’s death, but the
resentment remained. Th
e English mouse was alive.
He glanced about the room, taking in the feminine frip-
peries: a hair brush inlaid with mother-of-pearl, a straw hat, a
night gown strewn across the bed, colorful ribbons and satin
bows that reminded him of Francesca and her delight of beau-
tiful things. Savagely, he locked the painful memories away.
“Well?” he demanded. “Do you wish me to summon a
footman?”
“I will not need help.” Her chin tilted upward.
Lucien nodded curtly and strode to the door, in a hurry
to leave the chamber and the woman’s presence. “As you will.
I must go. Lady Augusta will meet with you this afternoon in
the Great Hall. Lady Jessica and her daughter, Lady Helena,
are visiting.”
80
THE SECOND SEDUCTION
“Th
ank you for telling me,” she said.
He nodded and paused with his hand on the door latch,
every sense suddenly alert. Lucien turned, his gaze sweeping
the room, fi nally coming to rest on the woman. She arched
one blond brow in a quizzical manner.
Lucien frowned. For once, his instincts were fl awed. He
shrugged off his sense of unease and stalked from the wom-
an’s presence. Th
e only element of danger in the chamber was
the woman.
81
V
Work. Distraction. Hell, he needed them both to drive
the woman from his head. Finding Francesca’s mur-
derer remained his top priority, not puzzling out his strange
reaction to the English mouse.
Lucien stomped through the Great Hall, disturbing a pair
of maids with his muttering. Th
ey paused in their polishing
and bobbed a curtsey. One covered her mouth and giggled
while the other stared intently before closing her right eye in a
saucy wink. Lucien averted his gaze. Th
e brazen, dark-haired
maid had off ered to warm his bed several times. Each time,
he’d sent her on her way, but she continued to watch him,
making him feel like a ripe, juicy plum or a particularly tasty
slice of tart. He’d have to do something soon, but not today.
“Good day,” he muttered, hurrying past. Th
e titter that
THE SECOND SEDUCTION
followed him down the hall made him scowl harder. Living
in the castle meant there were no secrets; all would know of
the state of aff airs between him and the English mouse. No
doubt, they discussed the matter in depth while going about
their duties.
Lucien cursed inwardly at the thought as he continued
down the brightly lit passage to the steward’s offi
ce. At fi rst,
he’d found the meetings with the steward tedious, but an un-
avoidable aspect of his presence. However, he’d come to enjoy
the hours of honest toil. Rolling up his sleeves and working
with his hands until he was too tired to think had fi lled the
lonely hours. And the time spent out on the es
tate had proved
helpful in his search for Hawk. Gossip picked up from the
locals continued to help, yet direct questions on the subject
were ignored.
Lucien’s jaw clenched as he thought of the murderer. Th
e
man was a powerful force in the area, but he was closing in;
the anonymous note he’d found in his chamber warning him
off confi rmed the instinct. Th
e second part of the note relat-
ing to the English mouse continued to puzzle him. Your new
wife holds the key. What did that mean?
Lucien thumped on the closed door of the offi
ce and
entered without waiting. A fi re burned in the study hearth,
heating the room to an unbearable temperature. Maxwell,
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SHELLEY MUNRO
the steward, sat behind his desk, a somber and earnest expres-
sion on his face, his quill scratching as he made notations in
the estate ledgers. He looked up at Lucien’s arrival.
“Maxwell.” Lucien inclined his head and sank into a wood-
en chair near St. Clare’s steward. “What needs doing next?”
Maxwell peered over the top of his spectacles, astonish-
ment on his lined face. “Several cottages require repairs. I
know it is late in the season, but I have been so busy. Th
ere
has been no one to supervise the work. But surely you do not
intend to start the job now?” A tide of ruddy color spread
from the man’s cheeks and upward toward his horsehair wig.
He shuffl
ed on his seat, avoiding Lucien’s gaze before blurt-
ing, “You are newly wed . . .”
At that moment, St. Clare hobbled into the study to join
them. He paused, brows rising. “Hastings, what are you doing
here? You should spend time with your charming young wife
instead of concerning yourself with estate business. I want
to bounce a grandson on my knee before I leave this world.
Procreation — the only way to leave a mark on the world is a
man’s get. I shouldn’t have to tell you that, boy.”
Lucien gritted his teeth. He was not Hastings. He was
not the boy. He was the owner of a successful estate in Italy,
and he intended to return as soon as he discovered the identity
of Hawk and exacted his revenge. “Th
e estate needs attention
84
THE SECOND SEDUCTION
before the cold weather sets in.”
“A few days will make little diff erence,” St Clare de-
clared, shooting an amused glance at Maxwell. “Next week is
soon enough to start the chore. I’m sure there are things you