A Seduction At Christmas
““Who are you? Did Hester send you—”
The duke grabbed her arm and pulled her to stand behind him. Sweat marred his forehead as he battled the potion’s effects, but his voice was strong. “What do you want? Did Ramigio send you?”
The leader of the group closed the door. They were a foul-smelling lot. The scent of them sucked up all the air in the room’s close confines. “I don’t know a Hester,” he said, the sound of Ireland in his voice, “and if Ramigio is a man who wants you removed, then I suppose we are from him. That is, unless you have other enemies, Your Grace?” He didn’t wait for an answer but said, “Now kindly take off your clothes and your boots and climb into that bed.”
“What makes you think I’ll do anything you say?” the duke countered.
“Because I will put a hole in the lass if you don’t,” the Irishman answered. “And you will still end up dead. My boys and I are a determined lot.”
“What of the lass, Thomas?” the henchman on the left asked the leader.
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