His Wicked Seduction by Lauren Smith Page B

face.
    “The ice is fresh. I wouldn’t want you to fall,” he said.
    A passing carriage’s wheel dipped into a slushy puddle nearby, casting an icy spray. Lucien dragged Horatia into his embrace and shielded her from the splash with his body. He winced as the icy water soaked his clothes.
    He was wet. Again. Why her own body shivered against his, she wasn’t sure. Droplets of water dewed on his eyelashes and hung from the wet lock of hair that fell into his eyes. She stared at him, fascinated at the way the jewel-like drops clung to his dark, long lashes.
    “Blast. I must have offended the gods of carriages in some past life.” He gazed down at her, a wild wolf-like expression, both wintry and fierce filling his eyes. His passion could be her undoing if she let him. His lips were faintly blue and trembled. She ached to warm them with hers. A ridiculous notion, but damned if she didn’t want to taste him again, just one…little…
    “I should go,” Lucien whispered.
    “Stay.”
    “I shouldn’t.” His warm breath fanned her face and heated her blood.
    “At least come in and have your coat dried by the fire.”
    I have only ever wanted to care for you, Lucien. Just let me care for you.
    “Perhaps that is wise. I’ve no interest in getting a chill from wet clothes. Carriage gods be damned.” Lucien made no move to step back from her as she turned, staying caged by him as they reached the door. His breath tickled her neck and she shivered from something other than the cold. The door swung open as the butler and a footman helped them both inside. A sigh escaped her as reality intruded on her once again and she was forced to step away from Lucien. Why did they always have to move apart?
    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