One Wicked Night by Shelley Bradley

water brought in and quickly set about preparing a bath.
    Serena looked at the water gratefully. She felt changed, both inside and out, and wondered if she could ever feel again as she had before Lucien entered her life. She prayed she would, but when she lifted her chemise from her body, she inhaled Lucien’s scent, bringing her both weak-kneed remembrance and doubt. Then she heard Caffey gasp.
    “Oh, dear Lord! What did that man do to ye?”
    Serena looked at herself in the glass and understood Caffey’s horror. Her breasts were rosy from the stubble on Lucien’s chin. Little love bites dotted her neck, abdomen, and thighs. She looked away in mortification, wishing she could go back in time, wishing she had damned her foolish feelings and refused the handsome devil who had wrought both temporary and permanent changes to her person.
    “Please, go now. I’ll bathe myself.”
    “And if His Grace inquires after ye?”
    Serena bit her lip, swallowing hard as another blast of shame and guilt pummeled her. “Tell him I’m sleeping.”
    “As ye wish,” Caffey replied, then closed the door behind her.
    Serena immediately sank into the hot water of her bath and scrubbed herself red. And cried.
     
     
     
    ****
    Serena felt her fragile expression collapse the instant the butler showed her into her grandmother’s drawing room and closed the door behind him. The few tears she hadn’t spent during her hour in the tub surfaced now.
    Concern transformed her grandmother’s expression as she hurried across the room to wrap Serena in her embrace.
    The feel of her reassuring arms, the croon of her soft voice, brought another burst of tears.
    “Serena, what on earth has happened? Has this anything to do with your husband’s . . . problem?”
    “No.” Serena hiccupped. “Yes.”
    Grandy patted her back. “Child, you’ll have to be clearer about the problem if you want my help. I cannot read your mind.”
    Serena nodded miserably, then sobbed, “I did it.”
    “Did what?”
    Sniffing, she answered, “What Cyrus asked of me.”
    Her grandmother released her from her embrace and led her to the sofa. Clasping her hands, the older woman asked, “You took a lover?”
    Closing her eyes, hoping to close out the shame, Serena nodded.
    “How delightful. Why, then, are you upset?” Her grandmother cocked her head to one side. “Did he hurt you, lamb?”
    Adamantly, Serena shook her head. “It was wonderful and breathtaking. Everything I never imagined.”
    “Splendid,” Grandy declared. “What could possibly be wrong?”
    “I-I wanted him so much, I convinced myself that lying with him was the right thing to do.” Misery wrenched the words from her throat. “Like Mama, I gave myself so easily.”
    “I commend the man. He must be quite special.”
    “Grandy, don’t you understand? I’ve sinned terribly. How will I ever look at Cyrus again? What shall I say when he tells me he loves me? I cannot be worthy after the way I behaved.”
    Her grandmother loosed a long sigh. “You silly child. Cyrus himself suggested you take a lover. You simply fulfilled his request.”
    Serena shook her head violently. “I had no intention of doing so. But then Lucien touched me and . . . I didn’t want him to stop.”
    “Lucien? Does he have a last name?”
    Serena felt her face color to a painful red. “I do not know it.”
    Her grandmother paused, obviously scanning her memory. “Your Lucien wouldn’t happen to be a tall gentleman with very dark hair and exquisite green eyes, would he?”
    Serena’s breath rushed out in surprise. “Yes. You know him?”
    Her grandmother smiled. “We are acquainted. His name is Lucien Clayborne. He is the current Marquess of Daneridge. He’s a somber sort, from what I can tell.” Grandy paused, as if weighing her words, then said, “He’s divorced.”
    Serena raised a trembling hand to her gaping mouth. “Oh, mercy! Not only did I break my marriage vows, I lay with a divorced stranger.