Lord of Fire by Gaelen Foley Page A

propositions that strangers made to her as she passed, until at last she came to the edge of the great pool.
    The steam rising from the hot spring dampened the tendrils of her hair around her face as she searched the swimmers’ faces in the dim half-light, but after a couple of minutes, her heart sank as she realized her sister-in-law was not among them. She pressed her hand to her forehead. Oh, God, what if she is off somewhere making love with Lucien Knight? She glanced at the stage. The fair-haired man was still there, but “Draco” had disappeared.
    Alice scowled and dropped her hand to her side again, longing to be spared the unthinkable prospect of having to interrupt her sister-in-law’s liaison with her demon lover. No matter, she told herself. She would throw Caro’s clothes on her and march her home by her ear, if necessary. Resolved to search the nooks and crannies that lined the cave,
Alice pivoted—and crashed right into a man’s bare, muscled chest.
    Right at her eye level, his loose white shirt hung open, revealing a deep V of velvety skin. At this close range, she could see every sculpted ridge of his stomach, every hard plane of his magnificent chest; could practically taste the salty, vibrant sheen of sweat that glowed on his skin. Her heart leaped into her throat with instant recognition; her wits scattered like chickens with a fox in the henhouse.
    Oh, no, she thought, choking on her gasp.
    Slowly lifting her gaze,
Alice tilted her head back and looked into the silvery, mocking eyes of Lucien Knight.
     
    CHAPTER
THREE
    Moments earlier, Lucien had been sauntering through the crowd, watching everything, his senses on full alert behind his air of nonchalance. He had a staff of five roguish young agents-in-training who assisted him in the operation. Four of them each worked a quadrant of the Grotto, while Talbert, the fifth, used his flair for showmanship and flummery to play their “priest.” Six ravishing courtesans were on Lucien’s payroll, as well, and each one knew her duty—to ply the foreign agents with wine, offer her favors, and seduce information out of them. Blending easily into the crowd, the lads and the girls alike would learn all they could and report back to him at the end of the night. For his part, Lucien strolled freely through the Grotto, overseeing everything and staying sharply attuned for any hint of information regarding his enemies.
    A man, however, could not be all business. The unbridled sexuality all around him made his blood hot. He needed a woman, and soon. Not Caro—he had bored of her at some indefinable moment during the long carriage ride from
London to
Revell Court
. He had been considering one of his obedient new initiates—or both, perhaps—when he had noticed the girl.
    She still had all her clothes on. That was the first thing that had snagged his attention. It didn’t seem quite right. With her hood hiding her face, it was impossible to tell who she was, yet somehow he instantly knew that she didn’t belong.
    But that was impossible, he thought. He knew everyone and everything that happened in the Grotto. His control was absolute. No mere chit could have breached his security.
    Then he had noticed that she was alone, and the full, fierce spear of his awareness had homed in on her. He had watched her carefully picking her way through the crowd, slim and stealthy. She set his instincts jangling. The only question was, which instincts?
    Intent on a closer look, he had begun following her casually through the crowd while his pulse took up a deep, primal drumming. His craving for a fiery coupling, skin on skin, twisted through his veins. It was the best he could hope for in the bitter knowledge that what he really needed did not exist, not in his world. Like anything else, however, love could be simulated. He wanted to be held like the last man on earth; he wanted to fuck until he was drenched in sweat, to lose himself in adoring a woman’s body and perhaps,