His Wicked Seduction novel Chapter 11

Once inside, Horatia took him to the morning room to warm up, but to their surprise the fire was unlit. Lucien peeled off his wet wool overcoat and looked at the cold fireplace with a raised eyebrow. For a moment she just stared at him. He glanced down, wondering what she was looking at. His shirt clung to his arms, highlighting his forearms and biceps. When he looked back to her, she'd gone wide-eyed and scarlet. Horatia hastily darted past him to the fireplace and pulled back the grate. He bit the inside of his lip to keep from grinning. She'd liked what she'd seen, he was sure of it.

A low and angry echoing sound announced either the presence of a ghost, or a cat up the chimney. "Mreoooww."

"Muff!" Horatia got down on her hands and knees and peered up the chimney. "Come down right now!" She reached up into the sooty confines of the fireplace.

Horatia's backside was on full display to him as she tried in vain to coax down the stubborn feline. The icy chill he still felt dissipated beneath the heat that swept through him. How would her hips feel between his hands? How would his name sound as it was moaned from those lips? Lucien shook his head, trying to erase those images and, more importantly, discourage an enthusiastic response in his loins.

"Here, let me see if I can get him." Lucien knelt beside her. With the advantage of his longer arms, he could reach the crevice in which the renegade feline had lodged himself. "I see him. The question is whether I can reach him. You might want to shield your eyes, my sweet." The endearment fell off his lips without thinking. He reached up, grabbed the cat by the scruff of his neck and dragged him down. Lucien coughed as he dislodged a wave of soot and it rained down around him and Horatia. They both fell back out of the fireplace and onto the floor.

Muff hissed and lunged into Horatia's arms in his bid to flee. He dug his claws into her arms before propelling himself away, leaving a sooty trail of paw prints out of the drawing room. Horatia sneezed and tried to rise. Lucien caught her wrists but his hands came away bloody as he helped her to stand. Her forearms had been sliced by Muff's not-so-tender escape.

Horatia, covered in soot and clutching her bleeding arms, looked absolutely miserable. Something in Lucien's chest tightened. She was so brave; she hadn't made a squeak of pain. If it had been him he would have bellowed like a wounded bear. Not her though, not Horatia. She bit her bottom lip, blinked away the moisture in her eyes and all he wanted was to drag her into his arms and kiss her senseless.

"Come now, let's get that taken care of." He wrapped an arm about her shoulders and led her out into the hall and up the stairs to her bedchamber. He instructed a passing footman to bring warm water, some bandages and have the fire lit in Horatia's room, assuming the blasted cat hadn't gotten there first.

A few moments later, Cedric's housekeeper, a matronly woman with graying hair at the temples, entered the room carrying water and bandages.

"Here we are..." She winced at the sight of Horatia's injuries. "Oh my poor dear!"

"Thank you, Mrs. Stanwick. Could you bring us some hot tea?" Horatia asked.

The housekeeper's lips parted in surprise. "I shouldn't leave you alone..."

"It will only be for a minute. Leave the door open if you must." Lucien's tone was less a suggestion and more a command.

"Very well, my lord, I'll be back shortly." Mrs. Stanwick set the bandages and hot water on the side table and went to fetch tea.

"You don't have to stay. I can see to it," Horatia said.

"Nonsense. I always took care of you when you were young, didn't I?" The words were out before he could take them back. The baffled look on her face, highlighted by her rounded eyes, made her seem so young. She was nothing like his usual women. He liked them fine-boned and full-figured. Horatia had ample curves and a lovely face, but she lacked that edge of cool passion that all of his conquests had.

Lucien pushed her to sit on her bed while he took the cloth towels from the footman. The footman started a fire while Lucien cleaned his hands of soot. The newly lit fire crackled and snapped over the logs. It warmed his back, putting him in a strangely gentle mood.

Her bottom lip shook a second before she opened her mouth.

"Shh..." He wetted a towel and cleaned Horatia's hands of the soot and wiped the dried blood away. After applying some salve to the cuts, he wound the bandages snugly around her arms. Then he then toweled off his face, as did Horatia. Lucien noticed she missed a few spots.

"What?" she asked when she caught him staring.

"Hold still." He captured her chin and tilted her head back.

Her knees broke apart, allowing him to step closer to her. He brushed the moist edge of his towel over the tip of her little upturned nose, resisting the sudden urge to kiss it. He wiped away a patch of soot, just above her collarbone. Horatia seemed to be holding her breath.

When he finished, he dropped the towel and placed his hands on her skin. He traced her bottom lip with the pad of his right thumb, feeling its fullness. Horatia's lips closed around his thumb as she kissed it. The warm wet caress of her tongue made his entire body tighten. Mesmerized, he pulled his thumb away and leaned down, closing the distance between her lips and his.

He coaxed her lips apart with an exploring tongue. Lucien's hands curled around her hips, holding her still as he pressed himself into the cradle of her body.