Lendle

Lucien Haviland, The Eighth Duke of Clerendon is "The ton's most talented and wicked rake”. With the war at an end, he finds himself restless and frustrated as he accepts that it's time to turn his attentions to his dukedom and find a wife before his mother becomes desperate. Mirabelle Spencer has waited eighteen years for Lucien. Patiently, for the most part. When he finally comes to his senses, she finds reality can be quite different from dreams, even if they do come true. Lucien dove for Mirabelle but she skipped backwards, out of his reach and laughed. She danced further out of his reach and he charged toward her. She gasped and twirled away just as his fingers tried to wrap around her arm. If it hadn’t been for a partition, she would have dodged him again. Lucien’s hands closed about her waist and he hauled Mirabelle against him. If Mr. Someoneorother held her a bit too close, Lucien was holding her a lot too close. His arm locked around her, pressing her against him from chest to thigh. The fingers of his other hand curled around hers as he turned and led them to the center of the floor. Mirabelle’s toes hovered above the parquet and he maneuvered her like she was made of air. Her eyes were trapped by Lucien’s and her breath came in little pants. She was mesmerized as he moved them through the room. The smell of him, sandalwood and citrus, surrounded her and she closed her eyes and let her head fall forward as it filled her. Lucien’s breath huffed softly against her ear, causing her to shiver. He steered her through a turn and his thighs parted hers and she was sure his lips brushed her ear, she gasped and squeezed his shoulder. Mirabelle almost moaned out loud when she felt the hand at her back stroke her spine. She opened her eyes and let her cheek drag against his as she looked up, into his eye. Their lips were so close, Mirabelle could feel his breath upon them. She licked them and Lucien angled his head, she felt his lips brush hers as his hand drifted lower. His palm glided over her bottom and he pressed her against him as they went through another turn. Mirabelle felt him, rigid and hard, pressing into the apex of her thighs. She felt heavy and so hot between her legs, slick and wet as his tongue traced her lips. She trembled and opened for Lucien. His tongue caressed hers and the moan she’d suppressed moments earlier escaped her and he pulled her harder against him. Abruptly, Mirabelle felt cool air surround her and realized she was no longer moving. Lucien had her at arm's length and he was looking away from her. His breathing was labored and his jaw twitched. “Lucien?” Mirabelle was shaking and her legs felt like water. He cleared his throat and looked at her. “I’m sorry,” he said as he released her hand and let go of her waist as he stepped back. “You’re sorry?” She whispered, completely confused. Lucien cleared his throat again and nodded. “If you’ll excuse me, there’s something that requires my attention.” With that, he turned on his heel and strode quickly from the room.For a moment, Mirabelle wanted to scream that she required his attention but she was so stunned and surprisingly hurt that she could only sink to the floor and stare at his back as he fled the room. She was completely at a loss. It was as if she’d had been allowed a peek at the Lucien she was desperate for only to have the strange, tense Lucien slam the door.