Anne Mallory - Seven Secrets of Seduction

Secret #1: Every good seduction first begins with a baited hook.

The Seven Secrets of Seduction

London, 1820

M iranda Chase leaned against the smoothly worn counter and absently curled a finger around a tendril of hair, rubbing her thumbnail along the hump, creating a soft, steady rhythm of sound against her ear as she devoured the words on the page.

Run faster, she murmured. No, not to the open gardensthat is exactly where he wants you to go. Run to the tower. Lock the door.

But the heroine darted into the maze of hedges instead. A circuitous route that could offer the freedom she desired or deliver her into his evil clutches for good.

A deep voice came from a hedge in her mind. Where can I find the section on enlightenment?

She could feel the warm breath of the villain as he closed in on the heroines position. Cloven and provocative to match the smoky timbre uttering each syllable.

Without lifting her eyes from the page, Miranda absently pointed a slender finger to a corner of the store. Third shelf from the right.

Dismissing the customers interference in the twining hedges and the closing maze, she urged the heroine on. The villain was one thorny wall away. If he turned right at the fork

And the section on

Hmmm? she murmured, her concentration wavering for a moment. If only Peter hadnt taken ill and left her to work the late-afternoon shift in his absence. She had just received the advance book this morning, freshly printed and bound. It hadnt left her side since. And they so rarely received unplanned customers during the social hours that she hadnt argued with her uncles pleas to man the desk.

The section on

The villain turned right at the fork. Of course. She shook her head. She had told the heroine to stay locked in her tower, that no good ever came of these wanderings. Best to remain where it was safe and comfortable.

Miss, are you listening? The deep voice had a husky, scratchy quality, as if the owner had played far too hard the previous night and had just woken to the new day. An appealing voice. Just such as the one possessed by the silver-tongued villain of the tale. The noble hero had a much more direct and transparent manner. If only the heroine hadnt been momentarily seduced by the silver. Miranda had told her not to trust him.

Miss?

Mmmhmm. The silvery devil was inching closer.

Where is the section on? Was that amusement in his tone or mockery? Besides their regular customers, when she filled in for an absent worker, patrons rarely interacted with her beyond ordering or collecting their items. Especially voices that clearly indicated Quality. Flat voices and bored tones. Maybe some irritation. They rarely expended effort consulting with the hoi polloi.

But there was a caress beneath the unusually warm tone. The syllables. As if the owner were speaking to her directly, not addressing a nameless clerk. And the voice didnt have the nasal pitch so often found in the lofty gents attempting to mask their inferiorities through the regurgitation of the bookstores classics. Those types of men liked to practice their arguments and debate on the employees, but so often merely practiced their noblesse oblige instead.

She sometimes found it hard to feign ignorance in their presence. Calm, gentle, nonargumentative, dutiful niecethat was Miranda Chase, shopgirl. Better to spend any unrestrained energy in letters and correspondence, where she could organize her thoughts and be free with her passion.

But this voicethis clipped caress, didnt speak of argument and strife, it spoke of ballrooms and bedrooms.

Her attention half shifted back to the environs of the store. The man had asked for what?

Sex.

Mirandas eyes crashed away from the page, the heroine frozen with her back to the brambles, as the unseen man answered the question she must have spoken aloud.

Shocked back into reality, her view shot upward and met coal black and startling white. The strands of hair slipped from her fingers, and the hand holding the book thumped against the counter. It took a moment for her to regain her voice. She cleared her throat, trying to recall her mothers strict lessons in decorum and not succumb to the shock of the man in front of her. Pardon me?

No, I think youre finally paying attention. Amusement, yes. Mocking, definitely. Though I had to rephrase my question in three different ways. That the last was the one that caught your attentionone perfectly dark brow rose along with the curve of his mouthis intriguing. Your answer?

Did you just ask me for sex, sir?

A strange smile stretched across his face, no less appealing than the previously half-mocking one but more mysterious in nature. I asked for the section on erotic matters. Though if you feel the desire to pass over the instruction and go right to the participation, I would be delighted.

She stared at him. She couldnt help it. It wasnt every day that a man this well dressed and manly came into her uncles shop. And it definitely wasnt every day that a man thisshe searched for the right word under his heavy eyes and the way he seemed to move even when standing still virile made inappropriate remarks to her. To Georgette, who dressed in order to enjoy mens eyes following her on the street, maybe. But not to Miranda Chase.

She looked down at her simple frock. Everything was still in place. Nothing untoward, like a gaping hole or raised hem, that might make a man think something other than mundane thoughts.

His head tilted, an amused smile still firmly in place on a face that seemed to have been carved, then lightly, lovingly smoothed. Sharpness beneath a polished veneer. Are you attempting to see if youd be dressed for the occasion?

Completely nonplussed and disbelieving, she continued to stare at him, probably more than a little stupidly. Are you She paused and examined him, scrunching her brows to peer more clearly into his dark eyes. Are you well, sir?

Quite fit, yes.

She carefully examined his tailored clothing and lean, strong frame. Even in the starkness surrounding him, he exuded some predatory quality. A heated focus, the confident way he leaned against the counter, an edge to the lazy way he regarded her. Some unnameable, completely male attribute that would have ingnues running from and mature women running to . Georgette would be batting her eyelashes and inching up her hem already, elbowing Miranda to do the same.

The man was a study in black and white, which just seemed to highlight the lack of severity in his amused eyes. The fading sun cast dying rays through the shops dusty panes, highlighting the startlingly white skin on the left side of his face against the mostly black attire and darkening shadows on the right.

And his hands

Are you well, miss?

There was that faintly mocking thread again. Woven into the gravelly whiskey of his voice. Her daydreaming came to an abrupt end.

Quite. She slipped a square of paper into her book and closed it, cover down on the counter. He was just a customer. Hed be gone as soon as his business was finished. Nothing she couldnt handle. She wasnt as tongue-tied as she had once been. She smiled brightly. Now, how may I assist you?

But one corner of his mouth curved, and his eyes strayed to her book.

He had lovely lips. Not stark at all.

She nervously ran her thumb along the corner of the cover and tried to stifle such thoughts. Sir?

What are you reading?

She squared the sale books on the counter near himall of the most popular titlesin an attempt to shift his attention. We have some fabulous new works. May I help you locate something?