Read His Wicked Seduction for Free Online

God, you were made for sin,” Lucien groaned as he tried to move his other hand deeper into the confines of her bodice.
    She was made for sin? Was she nothing more than a body he’d like to bed? A temptation to release his needs upon? The words lit a flame under Horatia. She clawed his chest and sank her teeth into his shoulder to get free. Lucien jerked back with a low curse, letting her feet hit the floor again.
    Undaunted, he said, “Careful with that temper of yours, my dear,” and moved in to kiss her again.
    Under other circumstances she might have melted in his arms. But he’d gone too far. Horatia brought her knee up into his groin.
    Silence filled the room. For a moment Horatia wondered if it had made him a statue. At last a moan, several octaves higher than before, escaped his lips as he staggered back a couple of steps, then sank to his knees.
    “Damn you, woman!”
    “Serves you right, you…you horse’s arse!” She covered her mouth, shocked at her own language.
    Despite Lucien’s pained groan, he chuckled.
    “Touché, my sweet. Touché.” He tried to reach for her again but Horatia bolted to the door.
    “Damnable creature. I was going to apologize,” Lucien muttered to himself as he hobbled over to a chair and collapsed.
    The numbing affect of his brandy had worn off and guilt was wrapped around him like a death shroud. He’d been an absolute bastard. He should have known better than to drink when she was near. There had to be a way to make up for his lack of judgment.
    He wracked his mind for some idea, some way to make amends. He’d apologize of course, but women were masters of holding guilt in trust and collecting interest on it. A trinket perhaps? A lovely bauble she could wear with a new gown… A gown! He’d buy her a new Christmas gown, one to replace the one that had been ruined.
    Horatia never spoiled herself, other than to buy an expensive gown each December. The rest of the year she wore her usual silk garments, fashionable but rather understated. It was only during the holidays that she seemed unable to resist the allure of an enchanting dress. He wished he could have seen her gown this year before it had been ruined.
    He would buy her something new, something with a precariously low but still socially acceptable neckline, made from bright red silk, his favorite color and fabric. Even now he could imagine how it would feel under the light pressure of his hands as he caressed her, explored her. His loins tightened with lust and the pain of his recent injury inflamed all over again. He was being duly punished for his rash actions.
    Upstairs in her bedchamber, Horatia panted, her face flushed. She trembled with a mixture of longing and regret. Even when the man was a merciless rake she still wanted him. That was part of the allure she supposed, that threat of his passion manifesting itself in an explosive kiss, a demanding caress of covered places. Sleep would be impossible now.
    Where was Ursula? Had she already retired? Her lady’s maid never failed to stay up late to help her undress. But Horatia was too exhausted to worry about that. She wanted to sleep and didn’t want to wake the house looking for her maid.
    A light scratch at the door had her turning in relief.
    “Oh Ursula, I hoped—”
    Yet it wasn’t her maid. Lucien leaned against the doorjamb. He looked less foxed than before, which surprisingly didn’t comfort her at all.
    She tilted her chin up. “What do you want, Lucien? Haven’t you done enough damage for one night?”
    “I’m sorry, Horatia. I was indeed a horse’s arse.” He smiled a little.
    “Well then, since we are in agreement, you may leave. I have things to see to. Besides, if Cedric found you here—”
    “Things? What could you possibly have to do after midnight? Off to a secret rendezvous with a lover, I suppose?”
    The very idea was ridiculous. She would never look at another man when he was all she’d ever wanted. It made little rational