Seduced by a Lady's Heart by Christi Caldwell

Author:Christi Caldwell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Christi Caldwell
Published: 2015-06-03T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Eloise read the contents of the note in her hand, her stomach churning. She set it aside on the carriage bench, abandoning her efforts. Since she’d been a child, she’d been squeamish in a carriage. Reading only exacerbated the discomfort. She sucked in several slow breaths through her nose. All quite unnatural…and a real bother. She sighed. Regardless, she well knew what the missive from Palmer said. She also knew even as neither he nor Richard would ever say anything…they would be disappointed in her inability to sway Lucien’s mind.

Of course, they long knew Lucien’s obstinacies to know that he’d never welcome interference in his life and when pushed… he merely pushed back, all the harder.

They hit another particularly deep bump in the road and her teeth cracked together. She grunted and gripped the edges of her seat to keep from toppling over.

Bloody hell.

She drew in another shallow breath and pressed her eyes closed to combat the nausea when the carriage lurched to a jarring halt. Eloise pitched forward and crashed against the opposite bench. She blinked, momentarily relieved at the cessation of the infernal motion of the carriage, and then shouts split the quiet.

“What in bloody hell are you doing barreling along these roads in that manner?”

Eloise widened her eyes and felt her heart hammering. She shoved herself upright and scrambled into her seat. She yanked at the curtain hard enough to nearly tear it from its hangings just as Lucien swung his well-muscled leg over the side of an enormous, chestnut mount.

What…?

Damning the steady, pounding rain that blurred the glass window, she shoved the door open. A gust of wind slapped at her face. “Lucien?” she shouted into the howling storm.

He stomped over. His serviceable, black riding boots kicked up mud, splattering his black trousers. With the stinging bite of the cold rain, he must be uncomfortable.

Then she met his gaze.

Correction.

By his black scowl, he wasn’t uncomfortable…she swallowed hard—he was furious. Stoic and elegant with his hard, determined footsteps, he may as well have been striding through a ballroom than the old, battered, Roman roads to Kent.

“What in hell are you doing?”

She opened her mouth and then it occurred to her—he spoke to her driver.

“I beg your pardon, you brigand.”

Her lips twitched. Sopping as he was, Lucien didn’t appear either a viscount’s son or a distinguished butler.

Lucien stopped beside her carriage and glared down at the five foot nothing driver guiding the team. “Traveling at this pace, you’ll see your mistress with a broken neck,” he seethed.

The man opened and closed his mouth, an indignant glint in his rheumy eyes. “I beg your—”

“That will be all,” Eloise ordered, her attention on Lucien.

He stiffened at her interruption and turned slowly. “Eloise.”

Eloise must appear the lackwit with her body half-inside, half-outside of the carriage and the cold rain battering away at her head and stinging her eyes, but she grinned. “You came.”

Lucien swiped his hand over his face and mouthed a silent prayer. He lowered his arm to his side.

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