Yet the pursuit of more was the only rational thought in his mind, more of her skin, her flavor, her body in his bed, warming it.
As the night wore on, Lucas formulated a plan—one that was as selfish as it was selfless. If Heathcliff knew, he’d think Lucas had gone daft. Yet it was without a care that Lucas approached his friend as the party in Temptations came to a close.
Because if Lucas was going to pull it off, he needed help.
And if you couldn’t depend on your friends, then you were in poor shape indeed.
However, that didn’t justify your friends laughing at you, which is exactly how Heathcliff reacted.
“You’ve lost your bloody mind, and I can’t say I regret it. I always knew she’d be the death of you,” Heathcliff commented as he lounged on the settee in the study.
“Thank you for your encouragement.” Lucas sighed, his lack of sleep catching up with him and his sanity slowly slipping.
“So what part of this diabolically stupid plan do you wish me to play?” Heathcliff asked, his brogue emphasizing the words.
Lucas glared.
Heathcliff raised his hands in defense. “Forget not that you are basically going against the Duke of Chatterwood and the Earl of Greywick. I’d not be surprised if he found a way to get you tossed in the Tower of London.”
“We don’t use the Tower for torture any longer.” Lucas rolled his eyes.
“That wasn’t my point . . .” He let the words linger.
“We all have dirt on us, Heathcliff . . .” Lucas spoke meaningfully. “Some more than others.”
“True enough, though do not expect me to believe you’re doing this out of the goodness of your heart—no, this is for the favors of a lady. But I’m quite surprised that you’d suggest that anyone dig into the sordid past of the duke, when you’re one of the few who know it well.” Heathcliff wiggled his eyebrows.
“Yes, well, there’s a time for all sins to come to light, is there not? I do believe that’s in the Bible somewhere.”
“And yes, you’re quite the authority on religion.” Heathcliff chuckled. “Although, that does remind me of a different question, since we’re on the topic of sin.”
Lucas arched an irritated brow.
“You’ve been quite tight-lipped on your promise of seduction. I can only assume that since you’re more . . . chivalrous?” He tilted his head. “I’m not quite sure that’s the word. Perhaps the more lustful side of you has come forth and the deed has already been done?” Heathcliff grinned wolfishly.
Lucas opened his mouth to give a heated retort, but withheld. There was no need to come to her aid, not here. “The agreement was satisfied.”
“Listen to you, going about and making sex sound sterile. Tell me, did you even enjoy the experience?” Heathcliff shook his head as if pitying his friend. “No, do not answer. I know full well that you did, because of your current plans. Rather . . .” Heathcliff stood from the settee and slowly approached Lucas, a calculating glint in his eye. “I’d wager that you were taken off guard, utterly disarmed, and fighting yourself even now because you both want her and fear her. Am I correct?” He waited, studying his friend.
“Damn you,” Lucas swore.
“Bloody hell, how the mighty have fallen.” Heathcliff chuckled, grinning wildly. “And Chatterwood’s daughter to boot. Well, if you wish to have her, all you need to do is publicize that she’s been ruined—you did thoroughly ruin her, did you not?”
“Quite thoroughly.” Lucas arched a brow, his body heating in response, desperately wanting to repeat the experience.
Again and again.
“Good man. I knew you’d remember how.” Heathcliff gave a wink.
“Don’t wink.” Lucas shook his head.
“Regardless, you can easily—”
“I don’t wish to marry the chit, I simply want to bed her—repeatedly.” Lucas sighed and walked toward the fire. “No commitment, no publicity, just—”
“Sex. Understood,” Heathcliff said. “Then, why do you wish to upset her marriage to this Meyer fellow? Didn’t you say it was more of a . . . platonic affair?”
Lucas shrugged. “Yes. Likely, or so she said, and my own assessment as well. He’s rather smitten with the daughter of Lord and Lady Grace.”
