Lucien's Fall by Samuel Barbara

Author:Samuel, Barbara [Samuel, Barbara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FICTION / Romance / General, FICTION / Romance / Historical
Published: 2011-03-19T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

The thirst that from the soul doth rise

Doth ask a drink divine.

~ Ben Jonson

After the little scene in the salon, Lucien spent the remainder of the day riding, in spite of the annoying drizzle. It didn’t bother his horse, nor did it bother him, and they had the meadows and lanes to themselves. It was quiet and refreshing.

He had nearly decided to leave Whitethorn, and the afternoon’s odd events tipped the balance. In the morning, he would go back to London. Surely the boy so intent on defending Herotica’s honor had learned the truth about her by now and wouldn’t be so quick to run Lucien through. He was getting too old for duels and skipping town. He hadn’t the heart for it anymore.

Without really intending to do it, he rode out to the ruins of the castle. Hobbling the horse under a sheltering spread of branches, he shed his coat and made his way through the ruins to the crumbling tower.

It would have been certain suicide to attempt the climb along the wall in the rain; instead he took the steps to the top of the tower and gazed out around him. A timeworn embrasure provided a convenient seat, and Lucien leaned against it. It looked serene— the vibrant treetops, the rolling stretch of meadows, the deserted lanes, all obscured and softened by the drizzling rain. Whitethorn was a beautiful estate, one to be proud of. Lucien understood why Madeline wanted to fight for it.

A clump of grass grew in the crack of the embrasure. Idly, Lucien plucked a stalk and chewed it, taking pleasure in the dusky taste on his tongue when he bit it.

In the landscape, he saw her. There, that newly plowed stretch of dark earth, was her hair. And the undulating meadows, rising and falling in such womanly splendor, were her body. The sky, pale and smooth, was her flesh—that flower, so red, her lips.

Even in fancy, even in such an abstract way, the thought of her aroused him. He could not bear leaving Whitethorn until he’d bedded her. If he could coax her into his bed for one long night, he could walk away. It was the chase that consumed him. Once conquered, women were all alike.

How to accomplish it, though? She was a perplexingly resistant woman. Even when she was nearly mad with need the other day in the maze, she’d managed to halt him. Of course, his own lust had been so engaged he had less finesse than usual, too. Ordinarily, he didn’t lose his head until the conquest was assured.

He frowned, watching a pair of starlings flitter around an overhang. That was part of his trouble. Madeline made him forget himself, so he forgot everything he’d learned about how to seduce women, how to wear down their defenses, and immersed himself in the feeling of Madeline around him, against him, kissing him. He lost himself in her, and no matter how he resolved to maintain his control, it all evaporated when he touched her.

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