Excerpt from An Invitation to Seduction   

Chapter 1

 

The Cornish Coast

May 1881

 

He had the look of danger about him.

Kitty Robertson recognized it the moment she spotted him, standing alone on the rocky shore, gazing out to sea, toward the horizon, as though he were daring the sun to rise.

Or perhaps he was commanding it not to.

Because its brightness would surely reveal what the dawn shadows were presently hiding, what had immediately captured her breath and her attention when she'd clambered over the rocks, hoping for a bit of isolated seashore: his perfect, naked form standing proud as though he had been carved from the very boulders on which he stood.

He was truly magnificent. It took every bit of willpower she possessed to stay rooted exactly where she was when she desperately wanted to cross the short distance that separated them and touch him. Trail her fingers over those sculpted muscles that were burning bronze as the sun pushed back the last remnants of night.

She'd never seen anything so glorious--except in that secret, dark corner of her mind where lustful thoughts tempted her with wickedness, shamed her with their clarity. She knew a lady of her upbringing shouldn't harbor such vivid, carnal images--much less crave the sight of them. And yet she did. Whenever her mind had occasion to drift, it was lured toward perilous thoughts that threatened her purity.

And that was the very reason that this man was so extremely dangerous. Because he embodied every sinful fantasy that she'd ever dared to dream.

As the morning's light faded from gray, she could see that the thick, black strands of his hair were too heavy with dampness to move much with the breeze that wafted in across the sea. He'd been swimming no doubt, and she marveled that he wasn't shivering. The waters off the coast of England were cold, not nearly as welcoming as the warm currents that washed in off the Texas coast in summer.

She'd often swum in the Gulf of Mexico, had actually been contemplating a quick dip into these chilly waters.

Until she'd happened upon Poseidon here. The man did truly resemble a god. From the top of his head, along the entire length of his long torso and longer legs, down to his rounded heels. As unacceptable as it was, she wished he'd turn so she might glimpse a full frontal view of him.

A decent woman would have averted her gaze immediately upon spying him; she wouldn't have ducked back and prayed that she wouldn't be sighted while she leisurely took her fill of him, cataloguing each dip and curve and flat plane that had come together to create such perfection.

Unexpectedly he twisted and crouched, to retrieve his clothing she realized at the exact moment that his gaze fell on her, holding her captive as easily as his lean body had only moments before. He seemed slightly startled, not overly alarmed, more curious than anything else. And she realized the sun which had so clearly revealed him was now also exposing her.

She spun on her heel, lifted her skirts, and darted back the way she'd come, scampering over the rocks until they gave way to the pebble and sandy shore. She broke into a full run, the wind whipping her hair in her face, pressing her skirt against her legs. She ran until she reached the path she’d followed to the shore. Ran until she reached a less desolate area where her passing would no longer be marked. When the brush thickened, she found a place where she could lie on the cool grass unobserved. She curled into a tight ball, wrapped her arms closely around herself, and wept.

Wept because she was as wicked as the woman who had given birth to her without the benefit of marriage. Wept because no matter how hard she tried, she never was as pure as the woman who had raised her.

Wept because her body was hot with lust, and she feared a time would come when the lust would consume her.

#

Richard Stanbury, the sixth Duke of Weddington, pressed a light kiss to the papery-thin cheek the Duchess had turned up toward him as soon as he'd entered the dining room. "Good morning, Mother. You're up early."

"Not nearly as early as you apparently."

Deigning to ignore the tone of chastisement in her voice, he walked to the sideboard and exhibited unparalleled interest in loading his plate with the varied offerings. He was always starving after an early morning swim. Starving and invigorated.

He was especially invigorated this morning after catching sight of the siren who'd been watching him from behind a massive boulder. He'd wanted to follow her, but he'd hardly been in a state to do so, and by the time he'd thrown on his clothes, she'd disappeared. Not that his damp and rumpled appearance would have impressed her or caused her not to fear him. Still, it might have been worth the effort and the risk. He was trying to determine whether he should be embarrassed, intrigued, or merely amused by the fact he'd been caught--quite unawares and invariably naked--by the young woman.

He sat at his place at the head of the table, set down his plate, and took a sip of the tea that the footman had already prepared and sweetened to his liking.

"I'm not quite certain it's seemly for you to be going out at dawn," his mother said.

"It would be more unseemly should I be arriving home at dawn, I should think."

His mother harrumphed. Deducing that he'd expertly put an end to that avenue of conversation, he enjoyed his first bite of poached egg before opening The Times, which his butler had dutifully ironed and set at Richard’s place before his arrival--exactly as it had been prepared for his father when he was alive. More than sixteen years had passed since Richard had easily, albeit guiltily, stepped into his father's shoes and inherited the daily rituals and traditions as well as the titles.

"Anne and I shall be leaving for London at the end of the week," his mother said.

"Jolly good for you," he responded distractedly, more interested in the country's news than the social gossip. He couldn’t invest wisely if he didn't keep abreast of the latest inventions and industrial progress.

"You should join us in making the social rounds this year."

"I have far too many other important matters to attend to."

"Nothing can be more important than providing an heir to your titles."

His jaw tightening, he lifted his gaze and met the challenge in his mother's eyes. "I am well aware of my responsibilities, Mother."

She seemed to shrink before him. "Oh, Richard, I'm sorry. I know you are. You've always been such a good lad--except in this one area. You are all of four and thirty. It's high time you took a wife." She leaned forward slightly, hope in her blue eyes. "Don't you think?"

Ah, the shrewd manipulator. She'd learned long ago that if she told him what to do, his stubborn nature would insist he stand strong in his defiance against her. Ask him politely and he caved in like a castle built of sand when the waves washed over it.

"I shall consider it--"

"Splendid!"

"--next Season."

She pursed her lips in annoyance. "And whatever is wrong with considering it this Season?"

"I am not in the mood for the hunt."

"The hunt? Dear God, Richard, there will be no hunting to be done. The unmarried women will flock to you like sheep in need of a shepherd."

"And I daresay that I shall not find a single one of them suitable. I have devised a standard of specific amenable behaviors which I shall expect my duchess to exhibit, and I assure you, Mother, that flocking is not one of them."

Her mouth twitched, and he knew she was fighting to hold back her smile. She couldn't properly chastise him if she was laughing.

"By flocking, I simply meant to imply enthusiasm. Surely you want a vibrant woman."

Vibrant? Most assuredly. He thought of the young lady he'd sighted that morning. She'd been dressed quite plainly, but her attire could have been due to the early hour. Surely she'd not expected to encounter anyone before dawn had welcomed the day. Her hair had drawn his eyes to her: a brilliant red that rivaled the morning sun with its radiance. The sea breeze had toyed with it, whipping loose strands around her face and shoulders, and an image of her writhing on satin sheets had immediately filled his mind.

 

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