Secrets for Seducing a Royal Bodyguard Read Online Free PDF Page A

air between them, the bulge poking into her backside was ample proof St. George most decidedly thought of her in a way that left her thoroughly shaken.
    Vivien stared ahead into the darkness, clutching the horse’s silky mane and trying her best to ignore the brawny thighs that surrounded her and the muscled arm wrapped around her waist. Not that she was frightened of him, precisely, since she was confident St. George had no intention of acting on his . . . impulses. After all, he was related to the late Lord Thornbury, one of the most rigidly correct peers in the ton .
    Still, it was hard to ignore her rescuer’s obvious physical reaction. Idiot that she was, she couldn’t help wondering if it meant something about her . Probably not, since she understood most men had little control over their baser impulses. That was the reason Mamma constantly lectured her about appropriate conduct, except, of course, when Vivien pitted her skill and knowledge against the most hardened rakes to win the money that kept the bill collectors at bay. Mamma never lectured her about that .
    Kit, however, had explained all about men’s animal impulses years ago when she was seventeen. Vivien had come across a rather alarming book tucked away on a top shelf in her father’s library. She had no business looking up there, but once having seen the outrageous illustrations in the book she’d been too horrified and intrigued to let the matter drop.
    And the only person she could question was Kit. Cyrus would have smacked her or run tattling to their father, but Kit was never shocked. He’d said men couldn’t help the way their bodies reacted to women, and that a lady was best served by ignoring it. Only if she found herself in tricky circumstances that forced her to defend herself did a lady take action. Kit had recommended whacking a pencil or even a stout twig sharply down on the offending appendage. He claimed that to be an extremely effective deterrent to overenthusiastic behavior.
    Vivien had spent much of the last twenty-four hours vowing to never leave the house again without a stout pencil in her reticule.
    Her rescuer’s deep voice interrupted her ruminations. “Forgive my impertinence, but I must ask you a rather painful question.” He hesitated a moment before continuing. “And please know that I ask this question because I must.”
    Vivien blinked. She heard the reluctance in St. George’s voice and wondered if he was embarrassed by his rather forward behavior. Perhaps he wanted to make his apologies, poor man. “Mr. St. George, you may ask me anything you like. I will try my best to assist you in any way possible.”
    His hand tightened briefly around her waist. “Very well. Did any of the men who abducted you visit indignities upon your person?” he asked in a tight voice.
    Confused, she twisted around to look at him. His features seemed carved from the hardest of stone, and his eyes were but shadows in the night. A muscle in his jaw ticked once, then once again.
    “Surely the very act of kidnapping is an indignity, is it not?” she asked. “What exactly do you . . . oh!” She jerked back around, too embarrassed to face him. Humiliation sent blood rushing to her cheeks.
    He wanted to know if she’d been raped.
    She’d spent hours living with that fear, and hoped she would never have to think on it again. But his serious manner and the entire way he asked the question implied that her answer was of significant import to him.
    Vivien swallowed against the sensation of ants crawling up her neck. “No, sir. I was not r . . . raped.” She stumbled over the word, her throat closing around it. A moment later, she sensed a slight easing in the body that enveloped her.
    “I am indeed happy to hear that, my lady, and I apologize for the discomfort the question caused you. That was not my intent.”
    Vivien nodded cautiously. “What was your intent, if I may ask?”
    He paused. She got the impression he was weighing his