With
Alice still dangling over his shoulder quite bereft of her dignity, Lucien marched into a small domelike room, dim and overheated. It had a couch, a wooden table with a couple of chairs, and two oval windows of scarlet stained glass that overlooked the Grotto and the great pool. She was startled to realize they were inside the skull of the dragon.
He leaned down and set her on her feet. “Don’t move.”
The order was futile. She was already in motion, instinctively backing away from him as she would from the wildest of predators.
He reached into his shirt and pulled out a pistol, which he coolly leveled between her eyes. “I said don’t move, love.”
She froze in place, staring in astonishment down the barrel of the gun. Her stomach plummeted with terror.
“Hand over your weapon.”
“What?” she whispered, her shocked gaze swinging from the pistol’s barrel to the ruthless beauty of his face. The lurid red glow from the dragon’s stained-glass eyes bathed the harmonious planes of his cheeks and forehead, contoured the sharp angles of his princely nose and square, determined chin. His sable hair was blacker than night in the underworld, spun from silken shadows. His silvery eyes gleamed with anarchy as he stalked toward her.
“You’re not going to cooperate, are you?” he chided in velvet menace. “Very well, chérie . If you’d rather have me search you, I am more than willing. Take off your robe.”
“My lord!”
He gestured with the gun. “Take it off.”
She looked into his steely eyes and promptly decided she wasn’t about to argue with a madman holding a pistol. With shaking fingers,
Alice untied the cinched cord of her belt, then lifted the brown robe off over her head, revealing the demure cotton morning gown that she had changed into before leaving her chamber.
His gaze traveled over her with slow, scorching heat. “Throw it on the floor.”
She obeyed.
“Place your hands behind your head.”
“Please—you’re making a mistake—”
When he narrowed his eyes at her in warning, she shut her mouth and quickly linked her fingers behind her head. He thrust his weapon back into the discreet leather holster inside of his shirt and closed the space between them, putting his hands firmly on her waist. He patted her sides, then circled behind her and began searching every inch of her body with his deft, deadly hands. With a small cry, she jerked her arms down and squirmed her hips away from his touch, but he captured her wrists and thrust them up behind her head again.
“I suggest you cooperate, mademoiselle .”
“This is absurd! I am not armed!” she protested with a scarlet blush.
“Be quiet and stand still, or I shall strip you of every stitch of your clothing, and richly enjoy doing so.”
She nearly choked. Good God, what had she gotten herself into? If only she had stayed in her room! She held her tongue and did her best not to flinch and twitch as his large, roaming hands explored her.
“You are very tempting, you know,” he said in a musing tone, “but I’m a little insulted that they should send such an amateur. Were they trying to get you killed?”
“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Ah, of course, you don’t. Darling, you had better think fast about how you want to play your hand, because I know your kind all too well. I know why they sent you, of course—to lie with me, then stab me in my sleep.”
She gasped at his words.
“And yet—” His lips hovered by her ear as he ran his hands slowly up her belly. “—I could almost believe a night with you would have been worth it.” He lifted her breasts in his palms. She jerked back with a small cry into the hard wall of his chest right behind her, her heart pumping in a tumult of confusion, arousal, and fear.
Her chest heaved, thrusting her breasts more fully into his hands, but her breath had formed a tangled knot in her throat. She could not speak, could only feel the heat of
Alice still dangling over his shoulder quite bereft of her dignity, Lucien marched into a small domelike room, dim and overheated. It had a couch, a wooden table with a couple of chairs, and two oval windows of scarlet stained glass that overlooked the Grotto and the great pool. She was startled to realize they were inside the skull of the dragon.
He leaned down and set her on her feet. “Don’t move.”
The order was futile. She was already in motion, instinctively backing away from him as she would from the wildest of predators.
He reached into his shirt and pulled out a pistol, which he coolly leveled between her eyes. “I said don’t move, love.”
She froze in place, staring in astonishment down the barrel of the gun. Her stomach plummeted with terror.
“Hand over your weapon.”
“What?” she whispered, her shocked gaze swinging from the pistol’s barrel to the ruthless beauty of his face. The lurid red glow from the dragon’s stained-glass eyes bathed the harmonious planes of his cheeks and forehead, contoured the sharp angles of his princely nose and square, determined chin. His sable hair was blacker than night in the underworld, spun from silken shadows. His silvery eyes gleamed with anarchy as he stalked toward her.
“You’re not going to cooperate, are you?” he chided in velvet menace. “Very well, chérie . If you’d rather have me search you, I am more than willing. Take off your robe.”
“My lord!”
He gestured with the gun. “Take it off.”
She looked into his steely eyes and promptly decided she wasn’t about to argue with a madman holding a pistol. With shaking fingers,
Alice untied the cinched cord of her belt, then lifted the brown robe off over her head, revealing the demure cotton morning gown that she had changed into before leaving her chamber.
His gaze traveled over her with slow, scorching heat. “Throw it on the floor.”
She obeyed.
“Place your hands behind your head.”
“Please—you’re making a mistake—”
When he narrowed his eyes at her in warning, she shut her mouth and quickly linked her fingers behind her head. He thrust his weapon back into the discreet leather holster inside of his shirt and closed the space between them, putting his hands firmly on her waist. He patted her sides, then circled behind her and began searching every inch of her body with his deft, deadly hands. With a small cry, she jerked her arms down and squirmed her hips away from his touch, but he captured her wrists and thrust them up behind her head again.
“I suggest you cooperate, mademoiselle .”
“This is absurd! I am not armed!” she protested with a scarlet blush.
“Be quiet and stand still, or I shall strip you of every stitch of your clothing, and richly enjoy doing so.”
She nearly choked. Good God, what had she gotten herself into? If only she had stayed in her room! She held her tongue and did her best not to flinch and twitch as his large, roaming hands explored her.
“You are very tempting, you know,” he said in a musing tone, “but I’m a little insulted that they should send such an amateur. Were they trying to get you killed?”
“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Ah, of course, you don’t. Darling, you had better think fast about how you want to play your hand, because I know your kind all too well. I know why they sent you, of course—to lie with me, then stab me in my sleep.”
She gasped at his words.
“And yet—” His lips hovered by her ear as he ran his hands slowly up her belly. “—I could almost believe a night with you would have been worth it.” He lifted her breasts in his palms. She jerked back with a small cry into the hard wall of his chest right behind her, her heart pumping in a tumult of confusion, arousal, and fear.
Her chest heaved, thrusting her breasts more fully into his hands, but her breath had formed a tangled knot in her throat. She could not speak, could only feel the heat of
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