Page 20 of Dare to Love a Duke
After the too-brief conversation they’d had that first night, he’d returned again. And again. Each time, he’d been careful. Seeking her out, but trying not to appear too fervent. Yet every time, he made sure to engage her in banter, draw her out like a silken thread.
She was swathed in mystery, cloaked in secrets. Beautiful, aloof. How could he resist her? He wanted more.
But they played a sophisticated game, him and Amina. Always at a slight distance, like chess opponents strategizing the movement of their pieces on the board. A word here. A flirtation there. They both seemed to understand the way of the world, never revealing themselves entirely. All the while, desire was an invisible presence between them, gathering strength.
The last time he’d been at the Orchid Club, they’d spoken of their favorite secret places in London, little corners of the city that held unexpected joy. She hated the zoological gardens because of the caged animals, but loved to watch the birds take wing above a tiny square nestled in Chelsea. He’d confessed he would grab a cake from Catton’s famed sweet shop and eat it while standing on the banks of the Thames, watching the ships drift along the water.
Then... he’d taken her hand. A brief touch. Their eyes had met, and the charge between them had crackled like summer lightning. He’d nearly gone to his knees from merely that contact.
She’d slipped away to see after other guests, but he’d felt her gaze on him the rest of the night. A promise of what could be. He’d excitedly planned what might happen the next time they met. But then he’d had to disappear. Leaving the potential unfulfilled.
Until now.
He stepped in front of her so that he commanded her full attention. She tilted her head back to look him in the eye. Always, she had that direct way of looking at him, and it shot awareness through him with a hard, quick intensity.
“I return to this place again and again for one reason,” he said. “The same reason that brings me here tonight—you.”
Her lips parted, yet she did not speak. Surprise flashed in the depths of her eyes.
He narrowed the distance between them, and this close, he caught her scent of night-blooming flowers.
“This will be my last visit to the Orchid Club.” It pained to speak it, making it more real, more inevitable.
She frowned. “If I’ve said or done anything to drive you from here—”
“The world pulls me away, not you. I’d speak more on it, but the rules of the house...” He smiled regretfully.
“I...” She looked away, then back at him. “I’ll miss you.”
If she wasn’t speaking the truth to him now, she was an excellent actress. She was the picture of regret. So he opted to believe her—it was a falsehood to which he’d gladly cling.
“And I’ll miss you.” For the rest of his life, no matter what befell him or what path his life took, he’d ache for her. “Before I take my final leave, I’ve one thing to ask you.”
“And that is...?”
He took her capable hand in his. She wore no gloves, and neither did he. The press of their palms together jolted through him, bright and hot. He’d anticipated her touch again with an unseemly eagerness—but now he saw that his eagerness had been entirely warranted. She felt... exquisite.
“Spend the night with me.” To his own ears, his voice was all but a growl.
Her eyes widened. For a long moment, she said nothing. Hope rose and fell within him, like a bird riding currents of air.
“One night,” he said in the silence. “In the morning, we’ll part company forever, but until the sun rises, we’ll give each other unimaginable pleasure. I promise,” he went on, “you’ll have nothing to regret, only memories of an extraordinary night. All you have to do is say yes.”
She stared up at him. Her breath came quickly, mirroring the thundering of his own pulse. The heat between their bodies could start a conflagration that would raze the city.
God, how he wanted her.
One moment became another and another. He could see the thoughts racing behind her eyes, the calculation of risk against reward.
He prayed for her answer, craving it with a fierce intensity, yet fully prepared to walk away if she said no. The choice had to be hers.
Her gaze locked on his, and when she spoke, her words were firm and decisive.
“Yes.”
Chapter 6
Lucia’s gaze moved over her buccaneer. He was tall, broad-shouldered, dark-haired and possessed spectacularly blue eyes, and his devastating handsomeness was like a weapon against which she could not defend herself. He had a clean, straight jaw and a very wicked, sensuous mouth.
