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Lady of Sin (Seducer, Band 7) - Softcover

Buch 7 von 7: Seducer

Hunter, Madeline

 
9780553587319: Lady of Sin (Seducer, Band 7)
Softcover
ISBN 10: 0553587315 ISBN 13: 9780553587319
Verlag: Dell, 2006

Inhaltsangabe

Award-winning author Madeline Hunter transports readers back to the scandal and intrigue of nineteenth-century England in the enthralling tale of a magnetically sensual man, a virtuous woman, and a love story that will take your breath away. . . .

She arrives at his home without warning or invitation, determined to win him to her campaign to reform women’s rights. Instead, Charlotte, the widowed Baroness Mardenford, ends up being nearly seduced by Nathaniel Knightridge. No woman is safe from the mesmerizing sensual power of the famed courtroom advocate, and Charlotte discovers she is no exception. But does he recognize her as the masked woman who recklessly joined him in forbidden passion a month ago? And how to avoid becoming his Lady of Sin when he decides to pursue her again?

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Madeline Hunter is a nationally bestselling author of historical romances who lives in Pennsylvania with her husband and two sons. In a parallel existence to the one she enjoys as a novelist, she has a Ph.D. in art history and teaches at an East Coast university.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Chapter One


Nathaniel Knightridge dwelled in a special hell, one where men of action and command are rendered powerless by events beyond their control.

Chained in that underworld of the spirit, he awaited the dreadful result of his impotence. The chill in his body could not be warmed by either the fire he sat beside or the brandy he freely imbibed.

The spirits dulled his mind enough to keep his futile fury contained, but not so much that he did not hear every damned tick of the damned clock. It constantly poked at his soul from its place on a far table in the sitting room of his apartment at Albany.

He stared at the fire's flames, all too aware that his vigil paled compared to another being endured a few miles away.

"Sir." The address came quietly. Tentatively.

Nathaniel slowly turned his gaze to the doorway. Jacobs, his manservant, stood there. Jacobs's aging, cherubic face wore a caution born of Nathaniel's angry outbursts all day long.

"A lady is here, sir. She went to your chambers and your clerk directed her here. She insists it is most important."

"If she is here, she cannot be too much a lady."

"Oh, but she is." Jacobs proffered a silver salver. "Her card, sir."

"Tell her I am not receiving."

"But it is--"

"Send her away, damn you."

Jacobs left. Nathaniel poured more brandy. He did not need to look at the clock to know the time. A half hour remained, no more.

He gulped enough of the spirits to send his mind flying for a few blissful moments.

It did not last. Soon he was back in the chair, half-foxed but mercilessly aware. Of the clock. And of voices. Jacobs's and a woman's. Their alternating high and low rumble approached and grew louder until the words became audible.

"I tell you again, my lady, that Mr. Knightridge is not receiving."

"And I tell you that this cannot wait. I do not have the leisure to waste another day looking all over town for him."

Despite the muffling effects of the thick door, that voice sounded familiar. Nathaniel's dulled sense tried to poke around his fogged brain to identify it.

The door opened. Jacobs entered, looking apologetic and helpless. A woman sailed in behind him.

Nathaniel took in the dark hair beneath the crepe bonnet's cream brim, the middling height of perfect posture, the crimson mantle trimmed in fur. Her hand grasped the ivory handle of a parasol.

As she brazenly intruded on his private misery, she passed one half-draped window. The overcast day's silver light revealed her lovely, determined face.

"Oh, God have mercy," Nathaniel muttered.

"Charlotte, Lady Mardenford," Jacobs announced.




Charlotte waited for Mr. Knightridge to stand and greet her. Instead he propped his elbow on his chair's arm and rested his forehead in his hand. The pose communicated weary resignation. It also obscured his eyes.

Dark eyes. Deep set and compelling. They contrasted dramatically with his golden hair.

Those eyes could mesmerize like an actor's and he used them to deliberate effect. Mr. Knightridge did not perform in the theater, but he was known to command different kinds of stages. Those in courtrooms and drawing rooms.

Women were especially vulnerable to his magnetic presence. That was one reason why Charlotte had sought him out today despite her determined efforts to avoid him the last month.

The other reason for her visit, the one that had led her to this apartment today and not his chambers tomorrow, involved his seclusion in this shadowed sitting room and his disheveled appearance.

He finally acknowledged her with a sour, exasperated glance. A long strand of his collar-length hair hung over one eye in a lazy, sinuous curve. His waistcoat was unbuttoned and his collar and cuffs loose. He was the kind of man who still looked handsome when he was unkempt. Disarray became him. She could do without the roguish danger he projected in this state, however.

She removed her mantle and handed it to the servant, who retreated. She positioned herself so that she could not be ignored.

Mr. Knightridge remained in his deeply upholstered, high-backed green chair, his tall body slouched and stretched. He looked her over slowly. Annoyance hardened his countenance.

Then it faded, as if other thoughts had claimed his mind.

He turned his face away and gazed into the flames. His hair, swept back from his high brow except for the errant lock, permitted his profile to chisel the space around it. With its high cheekbones and straight nose and full lips, it was a classically handsome face but not very soft even in the best of situations, which this definitely was not.

The chamber fell silent, except for the ticking of a clock on a far table.

Charlotte had not expected the visit to start this badly. Then again, she had not anticipated joyful welcome either. After all, she and Nathaniel Knightridge did not like each other very much.

"You are being rude," she said.

He sighed. "No, madam, you are being rude. My man told you I am not receiving, and I will not humor this inexplicable invasion. I am in no mood for social calls today. Jacobs will see you out."

"This is not a social call. I am here to discuss business."

"In case you did not notice, I am almost drunk and intend to be thoroughly so, very soon. I am in no condition to conduct business, so it must wait."

"It cannot wait."

"Then find another man to irritate with it."

They had never rubbed well together, but he was being unusually blunt today. His behavior would be inexcusable if she did not know the reason for it.

She set down her parasol so he would know she did not intend to leave. The action drew his attention back to her.

"This may not be a good day to put aside your weapons, Lady Mardenford."

"I have never needed weapons with you."

"You act as if you do. You carry a parasol like a sword. You have one with you even in winter when the sun does not shine. I keep expecting you to stab me with it."

"I would never stab you. I might hit you with it if you gave me cause, but never stab."

"If you insist on staying, I may give you such cause. Hence my warning."

"You are being deliberately provocative today. While you have never been what I would call gracious, this is extreme."

His gaze sharpened, then warmed as it took her in again. Male calculation reflected in his eyes. Deep, predatory sparks in them made her nape prickle.

It was a boldly familiar gaze, and it aroused both caution and concern in her, along with an irritating, sensual stirring. It was not a look that a gentleman should let a lady see. It entered her head that his inebriated state not only freed him from the normal constraints but also permitted him to perceive and remember more than he did while sober.

"You are a fine one to speak of being provocative. It is no mistake, I think, that you donned that dress for this visit. It shows a lot of shoulder. When I see that much of a woman's skin, I know she wants something." He smiled, not kindly. "What is it you want, Lady M.?"

She felt the skin he observed flushing. Her cross bodice did show a bit of shoulder and neck, but not enough to warrant comment. Nor had she chosen it because of this visit. She had a full day scheduled and could not bear spending hours on the town trussed into the stiff stomachers that had become fashionable again for some malicious reason.

Just like Mr. Knightridge to assume a woman dressed only for his...

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Verlag
Dell
Erscheinungsdatum
2006
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0553587315
ISBN 13 
9780553587319
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
432
Kontakt zum Hersteller
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Verantwortliche Person
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