Wicked Seduction by Jade Lee Page A

him wincing.
    “Tea,” he abruptly said. “Would you . . . you should . . .” His gaze jerked to the tray. The wine was gone and there was no tea to be found.
    She raised her hand to stop him. This time he flinched away as though he expected to be cuffed. But he stilled a moment later, clearly bracing for a blow. She moved slowly, her hand open and relaxed. She touched his face gently, feeling the scratch of beard beneath her fingertips. Internally, her mind fled to the last man’s beard she had touched like this: her father’s just before he’d died. Ever since she was a small child, she’d liked touching his unshaven jaw and squeaking in mock horror at the roughness.
    Mr. Frazier’s was just as rough, just as abrasive on her fingertips, and so she left her hand there, stroking softly in memory. He remained absolutely still as she did it. His eyes were wide with confusion, but he didn’t move. He allowed her to touch him, his whole body apparently frozen in shock.
    Then the moment passed. She came back to the present, realizing abruptly that she sat on her knees stroking a strange man’s beard. She pulled back, curling her fingers into her palm.
    “My apologies,” she rasped, then cringed as the sound abraded her throat.
    “I will make you tea,” he said as he pushed to his feet. “If there is lemon, it will soothe you even more.” He glanced behind him. “Alex, you stay here. Guard our bags.”
    The boy nodded solemnly, and Maddy saw that his stance had eased out of his crouch. He now stood quietly, his expression carefully emptied. It was frightening really. What had happened to these men that they would wake from a sound sleep into an attack? The Barbary pirates, obviously, but she had not realized how very devastating their abduction had been. And even now, she doubted that she understood even a small part of what they had suffered.
    With that thought in mind, she straightened to her full height. Once again, Mr. Frazier hovered close enough to catch her if she stumbled but refused to touch her person. Fortunately, she didn’t need his help. Her body was embarrassingly sturdy—Amazonian in proportion—and he had only hurt her throat, not her legs.
    “Tea would be capital,” she managed, echoing his words from earlier that day. “But I can make my own. Though, perhaps you would care to join me?” She didn’t know what she was thinking, inviting a half savage to join her for tea in the middle of the night. But he didn’t seem savage right now, and far from discouraging her, this last moment had her more fully interested than before.
    He didn’t answer except to nod. His eyes were on her neck, presumably at the bruises he’d caused.
    “It doesn’t hurt in the least. Truly.” Though her voice was still low and throaty. Then she turned and exited his bedchamber without waiting to see if he would follow. She listened closely for his movements, excruciatingly aware of even his breath. But she heard nothing. In the end, she stopped to check if he planned to hide in his bedchamber.
    He stopped less than a foot behind her, the dirty tray held solidly in his hands. How had he managed to even keep the dishes from clattering?
    He looked at her calmly, an expectant expression on his face. She didn’t know how to respond so she gestured to the staircase with one hand and offered to take the tray with the other.
    He frowned at her, clearly not understanding.
    She echoed his expression. Did he really expect to follow her like a servant? Apparently so, because when she tried to take the tray from his grip, he would not surrender it.
    “You are carrying the candles,” he said gently. “It hardly makes sense for you to handle both. And”—he cut her off before she could say anything—“you should lead the way because I haven’t an idea where to go.”
    She nodded. Of course that made sense. And yet it was bizarre to have him follow her as such, like a butler or a footman when he was decidedly not. The