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entering.
    Desire poured in from all regions of her body; her head fell back. He held her neck with one palm, arching it up for his mouth.
    The ache within her grew to something intense, excruciating, coursing through her like a heated flash flood. It built inside her, eradicating all thoughts, making her feel as if the only living part of her body lay below her waist and above her knees. She heard the soft, mewling sounds coming from her throat, but could not stop them. Mindless to all but his rousing fingers within her, Serena arched against his hand.
    The coach jerked to a stop. Vaguely, she heard the footman step down, toward the door enclosing them in privacy. With a curse that burned Serena’s ears, Lucien withdrew his pleasure-giving hands and smoothed her skirts in place.
    Still aching and disoriented, she hung back.
    The footman opened the door, illuminating their intimate cocoon with silvery moonlight. Lucien stepped down and faced her. A roguish smile that held a measure of unexpected tenderness curled his lips upward. “Come inside my house, sweetheart. It will be heaven. I promise.”
    He held his hand out to her. Serena stared at his palm, broad and warm. Accepting his invitation would lead her down the path to adultery and sin. Rejecting it meant missing the fulfillment her body craved—and more importantly, the child she wanted and the heir Cyrus needed.
    Given those choices, and her fever-high need, Serena touched his fingers, then placed her trembling hand in his.
     
     
     

CHAPTER THREE
     
    Serena emerged from the carriage before the gray stone structure of an elegant Hanover Square town house. The rain had all but faded to a haze of wet fog.
    Her gaze climbed up Lucien’s dark sleeve, past his wide shoulder, to his profile. She studied his straight nose and the inky sideburns hugging his ears. An implacable jaw sat beneath the sculpted splendor of his lips, she noted as her feet carried her closer to his front door. Her body, both inside and out, shook with anxiety, but more with the desire he had aroused, with the craving to know more of his drugging touch.
    A moment later, the coach and the footman disappeared. She and the stranger stood alone in the courtyard. Her ears detected his breathing, in harmony with the night’s sounds.
    She glanced at the town house’s towering wall before her. Irrationally, she wished the stranger would guide her there, put her back to that wall, and gift her with more of the hot, wondrous kisses he had given her in the coach. Instead, he led her forward, holding her hand, twining their fingers in a gesture of further intimacy that warmed her.
    The door opened before them. A tall, portly servant greeted his master politely. “Good evening, my lord.”
    “I assume the others have sought the comfort of their beds?”
    “Indeed.”
    “Good. Do the same, Holford, and send my valet on as well. I’ll manage out of my own clothes this evening.” His voice held a repressed smile.
    Holford’s eyes never strayed Serena’s way, but she knew he noticed her all the same. Heat rushed to her cheeks.
    “Would you care for refreshments before you retire?” Holford’s voice was both formal and polite.
    “Nothing, thank you.”
    Holford inclined his head forward. “Very good, my lord.”
    As the butler left, Lucien escorted her into the entrance hall. The contrasting dark and light ceramic tiles of the floor were exceeded in beauty only by a towering white domed entry. Boot heels clicking on the hand-painted tile, Lucien led her past a marble table of obvious Chinese origin.
    At the room’s rear, through an archway, they mounted a curved staircase. Covered by a resplendent red carpet, it led up to the first floor. Lucien mounted the first step.
    Serena hesitated. He looked back at her, saying nothing. His green eyes held a promise of pleasure she found more persuasive than words.
    With her decision firmly in mind, she followed.
    Lucien ascended with a stiff-kneed gait,