Wicked Seduction Read Free Page A

ladies in ball gowns, elegant jewels, the rustle of expensive fabrics. He remembered the laughter, remembered what it had been like to wander among them. He moved toward the sound as a man toward a dream. He had to see women again.
    “Sir! Master Kit!”
    Kit heard Owen’s voice, but only distantly. He needed to walk among English girls again, see their bright colors and laugh at their silly banter. In this way, he would know he was finally home.
    He crossed through the long parlor, through the dining area, and into the back patio that overlooked a small manicured garden. And there they were: ladies in beautiful gowns. White skin, winking jewels, ringlets of curls. English ladies all frozen in shock as they stared at him. Were they even real? They all sat so still!
    His gaze roved from one to another, memorizing the curve of this one’s nose, the color of that one’s eyes. She had teeth that were in disarray, and this other one was like an English doll: blond and blue eyed in a beautiful confection of white lace.
    One woman moved. She stepped forward, her movements smooth and her lip curled in disgust. “Owen!” she snapped.
    Owen rushed forward. “My apologies, my lady, but it is Master Kit. Kit Frazier, my lady, returned from the dead!”
    It took a moment for Kit to place the woman. She was his cousin’s wife, Lily, her body softened from age. Had she always looked so unhealthy? Pale, powdered, and with grooves on her forehead as she forever lifted her brows above the crowd. He had seen ladies just like her, come for the spectacle of the slave markets. This was Lily?
    She stared at him, her brows narrowed in thought. He watched her scan him from head to toe, her mouth pinched tight. He caught himself straightening under her regard, squaring his shoulders and curling his own lips in feral challenge. Silently, he dared her to fight him. Doubt my strength, he projected, and die.
    He watched her eyes widen. She swallowed reflexively and backed away. Too late he realized that this type of silent power struggle was not the way of the civilized world. And certainly not with the fairer sex.
    Meanwhile another man came rushing in. His steps were heavy and erratic with an extra thump to his bizarre gait. Kit turned automatically to the sound, gripping his bag tighter in his fist as he prepared to wield it as a weapon. The man was older, but his face was the same. Even with the extra weight around the jowls, Kit knew his cousin Michael.
    “My God!” the man breathed as he leaned heavily against his cane. “Oh my God!” he said again. Then he threw his arms around Kit. “Oh God!”
    Kit froze, his mind stuttered with disconnected thoughts. This was Michael hugging him in a weak embrace. Unlike with Owen, Kit had not chosen this touch but had been surprised. And with that surprise came a flood of emotions that he could not sort through. But his body understood, even if his mind did not. One of his hands still gripped his bag, holding it ready as a weapon. His other hand, however, raised of its own accord, returning Michael’s hug without Kit even realizing what he was doing.
    Then Michael released him, stepping back far enough to look at him. He was still young, Kit realized, but wealth had made him fat. His eyes watered with unshed tears. His arm shook slightly as he leaned on his cane and stared.
    “How, Kit? How did you escape?”
    Kit swallowed, the words too crowded against his lips to answer. And in the pause, his mind leaped through fact and situation to arrive at a conclusion. Michael asked about his escape. That meant he knew Kit had been captured.
    “You knew,” he said. “You knew I was a prisoner.”
    Michael nodded. “The ransom was outrageous. My agents negotiated but we couldn’t make headway. I thought if I waited, they would accept less money.”
    They. Had. Negotiated. While Kit sweated in the bowels of a pirate ship, Michael had tried to barter. While Kit daily fought like a beast for food and