An Unexpected Proposal (St Daine Family 1) by Leighann Dobbs Page B

other young ladies of her acquaintance, nor could he demand she refrain from talking about their brother altogether. But he could, and had , warned warned her of the possible consequences. Her mutinous responses each time, however, were one of the most pressing reasons behind tonight's sleeplessness and why he was seated still at his mother's writing desk, his thoughts running completely amok though it was well past three in the morning.
    Each time he tried to talk to her, Phoebe always delicately skirted using the actual words, but the haunting pain in her eyes still somehow berated him for his part in Tristan's disappearance. But it was her continued insistence that he was doing nothing to locate their brother himself which had Lucien sighing and pushing agitated fingers through his hair while sitting in the library in the dark at three in the morning—long after the rest of the family lay sleeping in their beds.
    Phoebe accused him of doing nothing, and yet, her accusations couldn't be further from the truth. He had done quite a lot; more than anyone knew and even a few things he knew his father would have frowned upon, in his efforts to locate Tristan. But even he knew better than do something to truly bring shame and scandal upon the St. Daine name.
    Not so, Phoebe.
    She wheedled and cajoled, simpered and smiled while she fished – often somewhat less than discreetly – for the information she sought.
    During the past few weeks, Lucien had had to fend off more inquiries about Tristan from friend and acquaintance alike than he had the entire two years since their wayward brother had disappeared.
    Of course, no one truly believed Lucien had lost all trace of his brother and most found Phoebe's inquiries amusing, but Lucien, however, did not.
    Nor did their grandmother. Amelia had no wish to see Phoebe labeled as a meddling female, especially so soon after her debut, but her ceaseless inquiries were being noted.
    “Keep her on the ballroom floor and out of mischief!” his grandmother had demanded, but Lucien was now certain his grandmother had no idea of the breadth and depth of precisely what constituted mischief when it came to Phoebe St. Daine. The girl defined persistence, and while he knew he must keep her from causing any real trouble, Lucien also admitted to feeling more than a little prideful admiration for her determination to persevere.
    A slight sound—or perhaps it was the growing appearance of light slowly spilling into his darkened retreat?—warned him he was no longer alone.
    Glancing up, he watched as the other reason for his sleeplessness, her body cleverly adorned by a tempting nightdress wrapped in a warm halo of soft light, materialized in the doorway.
    Claire .
    His body heated instantly and his heart beat out a thrilling rhythm while his mind played through the torturous scenario which had teased him all week despite his attempts to block the tantalizing scene of impropriety from his thoughts.
    He had dreamed of her.
    Aye, he had dreamed, that first night after she and her family had arrived at Rothwyn House. Even now he could remember the highly erotic sounds of their mingled breathing as their bodies rhythmically strained together, glistening with the effects of concerted effort as they strove toward the pinnacle of release. Unfortunately for him, he had awakened before the much sought release could be obtained, and the effect had left him disgruntled and a bit surly. He shifted to ease the sudden, uncomfortable tightness in his breeches. The action must have given away his presence there in the darkness, because he saw Claire's hand fly up to her throat as a tiny yelp of fright fell from her lips.
    “Your Grace! You startled me!”
    “My apologies, Miss Leighton. Is aught amiss?” The question was unnecessary, of course, for if the lady was below-stairs, after hours and unchaperoned, that was clue enough something had certainly gone awry.
    Tightening her fingers in the fabric of her robe,