inside the breakfast room. She had questions to ask. Had he
been in her room earlier? Had he pushed her from her bed?
Did he wish her ill?
She moved closer. “Good morning.”
Hastings’ face was expressionless, his glance indiff er-
ent. Rosalind’s heart thumped as every one of her questions
tangled together like a ball of twine inside her head. Her
throat tightened while she stared helplessly at her husband
35
SHELLEY MUNRO
who wasn’t a husband. Where did she start?
His long hair was tied back this morning, accentuating
obsidian eyes, his unfashionable tan. His one dark glance
sliced right through her, sensitizing her body and making her
aware of the way her corset laced across her breasts. A pain
in her chest reminded her to breathe. She wished he’d say
something. Anything!
But his face remained impassive and his gaze swept her
from head to foot. He stood and turned, the light streaming
into the breakfast room highlighting his scar with merciless
attention to detail. Hastings moved to the chair at the far
end of the table and pulled it out. One brow arched as he
indicated silently she should sit.
Rosalind walked toward him, regarding him with caution.
For an instant, her mind screamed to run, but she continued
to approach until she stood before him.
He seated her with brisk effi
ciency, but didn’t speak or
touch her in any way. Rosalind’s heart thudded. Heat rose to
her cheeks. She sucked in a deep breath and was assailed by
sandalwood and a more subtle masculine scent that made her
insides jolt.
“Th
ank you,” she murmured, her questions whirring and
racing through her mind at breakneck speed. Now if only she
could fi nd the courage to state them out loud without fear of
36
THE SECOND SEDUCTION
mangling her words. Rosalind cleared her throat. “I . . .”
Hastings nodded, a hurried impersonal nod, and strode
from the room without a word.
Rosalind’s mouth dropped open. She stared after him, a
sharp pain jabbing at her heart. Tears pricked at her eyes, and
her headache returned with vengeance.
Hastings was her husband, but he acted as though he
hated her.
37
III
Rosalind poured chocolate into a dainty porcelain cup
but stared at the swirls in the dark liquid rather than
trying to drink it. A sigh that was almost a sob escaped. Th
e
sound seemed to hang in the breakfast room before it faded to
nothing. Rosalind bit her bottom lip; she swallowed. Steam
drifted off the chocolate. She reached out to pick up her cup,
but her hand shook so badly she gave up. Instead, she stared
in the direction Hastings had disappeared.
Alone.
She’d never felt so isolated in all her life, not even when
her grandmother had died. Nothing had prepared her for this
situation. Nothing.
She swiped away a bothersome tear with the back of her
hand. When the slap-slap of footsteps heralded an arrival,
THE SECOND SEDUCTION
she snatched up a napkin and rapidly dabbed at her eyes.
Th
en she reached for her chocolate and hoped she wouldn’t
spill it.
“Th
ere you are, miss.” Exasperation colored Mary’s terse
words. “I’ve searched everywhere for you. Too many rooms
in this pile of stones.”
“I decided to come down for breakfast.” Rosalind fi xed
her attention on her chocolate again, feeling the full weight
of Mary’s disapproval. Don’t cry, she prayed fervently. She
stared so hard her eyes ached. Th
ank goodness it was Mary
and not the earl or Charles — or even worse, Lady Augusta.
She hoped Mary wouldn’t notice the tears and interrogate her
because she had no intention of discussing her marriage. Her
feelings for Hastings were personal. Private.
Mary stomped up to the table where Rosalind sat,
coming to a halt right in front of her. She planted her hands
fi rmly on her rounded hips and huff ed at Rosalind’s state-
ment, her forehead creased in a frown. “You be acting like a
child. You might have told me. Before I hiked to the kitchens
and back.”
Rosalind’s mouth fi rmed at the censure, but she admit-
ted to her poor behavior. It was only right. “I’m sorry, Mary.
Would you like to go for a walk?” It was an apology, but a
double-edged one. Mary hated walking.
39
SHELLEY MUNRO
Her maid huff ed again. “I’ll fetch your cloak. It be
cold outdoors.”
“You’re coming with me?”
“I don’t like this pile of stones,” Mary mumbled, glanc-
ing over her shoulder as though she expected someone to leap
at her. “A body be much safer outdoors.”
Rosalind gaped at Mary. Her maid habitually wore a grin
while her eyes sparkled with life. Th
e doom and gloom was an
uncharacteristic change. Rosalind’s brow puckered but before
she could form a question, Mary stomped from the breakfast
room leaving Rosalind alone with her puzzlement. She would
ask Mary what she meant at the fi rst opportunity.
Five minutes later, wrapped warmly against the biting
wind, they walked past the crumbling North tower. Th
e part
that still stood was partially covered with ivy.
Rosalind slowed. “Have you heard anything about the
tower?”
“Aye.” Mary grabbed Rosalind’s arm and forced her to
walk faster. She darted a glance over her shoulder and made
the sign of a cross with her free hand. “It be haunted.”
Doubt made Rosalind frown again, but curiosity over-
came her. “By whom?”
“A St. Clare ancestor. Lady Margaret. Th
ey say her be-
trothed ran off with another. Went mad, she did. Retired to
40
THE SECOND SEDUCTION
the North tower and never came out.”
“Hmmm.”
“Th
e maids have heard her. Th
ey say her screams foretell
bad luck. Of a death to come.” Mary swallowed loudly. “She
screamed last night.”
Rosalind studied the decaying tower for a brief moment
then jerked her gaze away. Th
ere were enough strange noises
and unexplained happenings at Castle St. Clare without let-
ting Mary fi ll her head with more nonsense. “Make haste,
Mary. I want to leave before Lady Augusta catches me.”
“Th
is be a fearsome place,” Mary declared, seeming to
read her mind and sense her uneasiness. “Ghosts. Strange
noises and the sort.”
Th
ey walked through the gate and Rosalind glanced
up. Th
e spikes of the portcullis glinted, dangerous and as
deadly as the day they’d been installed. She shuddered at the
thought o
f the spikes piercing her skin, spearing through her
body and crushing limbs, and hastened her steps toward the
cliff top path.
Mary was right about one thing. Th
ere was something
strange about Castle St. Clare. And Hastings seemed right
in the thick of the mystery. A fl icker of apprehension swept
through her, leaving a nasty taste in her mouth. He looked
sinister at times, especially if the sun caught his face at the
41
SHELLEY MUNRO
right angle, but surely he didn’t mean her harm? A breath
clogged her throat. No, she refused to believe it.
But someone had skulked in her chamber this morning.
Someone had pushed her from bed. Someone intended to
harm her . . .
Th
e path tapered, becoming too narrow for both of them
to walk abreast. Rosalind strode out ahead, in a most unlady-
like manner, trying to outdistance her turbulent thoughts.
“Miss Rosalind, slow down. Please.” Mary’s plaintive gasp,
interspersed with wheezy pants, made Rosalind slow. One glimpse
of her maid’s red cheeks and the guilt was instantaneous.
“Oh, Mary. I’m sorry. How thoughtless of me. I’m bad
company today, I fear.”
“Probably the knock on your noggin this morning.”
Rosalind wanted to smile. Mary’s motivation was clear.
She intended to save Rosalind from herself no matter the con-
sequences. “Are you recovered enough to continue walking?”
Mary groaned and rolled her eyes. “Yes, Miss. As long as
you don’t turn our walk into a race.”
Th
ey continued along the cliff top path, but at a much
slower pace. Rosalind led the way, navigating a collapsed
stone wall that littered the path, skirting the lethal branches
of a thorny hedge until she came to an open space in the
undergrowth. Th
ey could turn toward the copse of trees to
42
THE SECOND SEDUCTION
their right or continue along the cliff path. She smiled, feel-
ing happy for the fi rst time since she’d woken on the fl oor
this morning.
Th
e view of the sea stretched as far as the eye could see.
Shades of blue and green and gray with frothy white tops
on the waves made her itch to paint the scene. Not that her
talents would do the panorama justice.
Th
ey’d walked far enough that Castle St. Clare was no
longer visible, obscured by trees, the hedge, and a jutting out-
crop of pale limestone. Rosalind paused to look down. Th
e
sea churned and tossed, waves crashing to shore and thrash-
ing against the base of the cliff in a thunderous fi nale. She
turned to beam at Mary. “Look, it’s beautiful.”
“It’s cold,” Mary stated as she stopped beside Rosalind
and huddled into her woolen cloak. She stared off into the
distance then grinned cheekily. “Viscount Hastings, he’s
coming this way. Probably to meet you.”
Rosalind whirled, the wind whipping her curls across
her face. She brushed an errant lock away from her eyes and
watched Hastings approach on horseback, her heart lurching
with sudden alarm.
“I will return to the castle on my own,” Mary said.
“No!” Rosalind grabbed Mary’s arm. “Don’t leave me.”
Mary’s ginger brows shot up. “But he’s your husband.”
43
SHELLEY MUNRO
“No, I . . .” Mary’s grin made her face fl ush hotly.
Th
e thud of hooves made them both turn. Mary
sketched a brief curtsey while Rosalind merely stared up at
her husband, her pulse thundering. Her gaze danced across
his face, taking in his scar before moving up to meet his eyes.
Mocking cynicism and the underlying pain she encountered
made Rosalind wrench her gaze away. It took a few brief
seconds to focus, to look back at the man she was married
to, but by then the damage was done. An indiff erent mask
covered his emotions.
Hastings towered over them, moving as one with his
mount. Th
e black horse skittered at the raucous cry of a
seagull. Hastings held the animal fi rmly in check with a quiet
word and a soothing pat on its glossy neck.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, turning his attention
back to her. Rosalind noticed he treated his horse with more
consideration than her. Th
e fact rankled.
Rosalind glanced about for Mary, but her maid had crept
off while her attention was on Hastings. All Rosalind saw was
a fl ash of brown as Mary hurried down the path toward the
castle and disappeared. Th
e traitor. Make no mistake, she
would have words with Mary later.
Th
e horse shifted again, jerking her attention back to the
man sitting atop the beast, reminding her of his edict. His
44
THE SECOND SEDUCTION
highhandedness. “Why can’t I go walking?”
“Th
e cliff top is unstable in places. It’s dangerous.”
He’d spoken directly to her! Rosalind sniff ed. “I want
to walk on the beach.” Bother. Now she sounded like a
sulky child.
Hastings frowned, but he stared out to sea instead of
looking at her. “You shouldn’t be alone, especially down in
the cove.”
“I wasn’t,” Rosalind snapped. He couldn’t bear to look her
in the face. Hands curled to fi sts at her side, while she burned
to spit out angry words, words that would wound as she was
wounded. For an even-tempered person, she was fi nding it
diffi
cult to remain calm. Why wouldn’t he look at her? She
knew she was no beauty, not like her cousin, Miranda, but
she was by no means ugly or ill-formed. Counseling patience
and feminine serenity, Rosalind silently counted to fi ve.
It wouldn’t hurt her to try for politeness, especially if
her attempt broke the strained, chilly atmosphere between
them. “Th
ank you for warning me of the danger. I’ll make
sure I keep well back from the edge.” Th
ere. He’d warned her,
and she’d acknowledged the danger. Th
at should be an end
of it. Rosalind stepped off the path to give horse and rider
room to move away. When they remained, she edged past,
determined to continue with her exploring. She was used
45
SHELLEY MUNRO
to walking around her uncle’s estate. No harm would befall
her out here. At the thought of danger, her hand crept up to
fi nger the bump on her head. Inside Castle St. Clare however,
was another matter.
Lucien frowned at the English woman as she sauntered
away from him. His wife, he corrected himself when Oberon
shifted uneasily beneath him. Absently, he soothed his mount
while he stared after his departing wife. Although petite, the
fi rm set of her mouth told him she was hell-bent on going
down to the cove. And that was dangerous
— too dangerous.
Only last night, he’d witnessed smugglers landing a cargo in
the cove. He cursed under his breath.
God knows what the smugglers had hidden in the caves
that ran from the cove inland. Th
ey wouldn’t take kindly to
people nosing about if they used the caves for storage. He
frowned, not happy with the smuggler situation but knowing
that many of the villagers relied on the income to make ends
meet. Th
ey would suff er if he stamped his authority on the
situation, and he couldn’t allow that. Th
e situation had to
be handled carefully, without violence. Until he had alterna-
tive methods of raising funds, the smugglers stayed. With the
support they received from the local aristocracy, he’d have
a battle to remove them anyway. Lucien cursed under his
breath. Th
ere was no alternative.
46
THE SECOND SEDUCTION
He would have to go with her.
Lucien stared at the back of her head, his gaze skittering
down to notice the feminine sway of her hips, the fl ash of a
stocking clad ankle.
Cursing inwardly, he ripped his gaze away, leapt off
Oberon and hurried after the woman, leading his horse
behind him. “Wait!” He grabbed her upper arm with his free
hand and spun her around to face him.
Her chin jerked up and her pale blue eyes dared him to
exert further force.
“I’ll be careful, you can be sure. I don’t require watch-
ing like a child.” Th
e words were enunciated carefully. Pre-
cisely. Th
en her brows shot up, and she directed her gaze to
his hand.
“I will show you the path down to the beach,” Lucien mut-
tered, releasing her. He paused, shocked. Th
at was not what
he’d meant to say. He’d meant to order her to return home.
“It’s not safe to wander on your own here,” he fi nally ground
out. “Take a footman next time. Or one of the stable lads.”
“I’m used to wandering the estate at home. At will.”
“Th
is is your home now,” Lucien said. He narrowed his
eyes and the scar on his cheek pulled as all his facial muscles
tensed. Francesca would have laughed and made him laugh
in return until she got her own way. Pain lanced through his
47
SHELLEY MUNRO
mind, pulsated in the region of his heart, and the taut sensa-
tion on his face increased. “You will obey. Take a footman on
your outings or you will stay at the castle.”
The Second Seduction Page 4