Dare to Love a Duke. Eva Leigh
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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.”
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.
“Yes?” he repeated.
“Yes,” she said once more. Her pulse sped with each word from her lips. “I’ll take you to my bed—for tonight alone.”
Am I making a mistake?
Sleeping with a guest had always been forbidden, even when Mrs. Chalke had run the club. And yet, for a year, Lucia and the buccaneer had circled each other, drawn by an irresistible pull. All this time, she’d fantasized about him. What his touch would feel like, how it would be to caress his bare skin, or discover his taste.
She’d resigned herself to never knowing the answer to these riddles. But after this night, she would never see him again. He’d said as much.
And tomorrow, she’d learn the fate of her club. Everything could come crashing down in less than twenty-four hours—the death of the establishment, the loss of employment for the twenty members of the staff, and the end of Lucia’s funding for the girls’ home.
The future was a morass of uncertainty. But tonight, just this once, she’d permit herself selfish pleasure.
No harm will come of this. There was no danger to her heart, no threat of a growing attachment. They would enjoy each other, and part company. She’d be safe.
His eyes darkened and his nostrils flared. The look of pure desire on his face stoked her own need.
“I’ve a carriage out back,” he said.
“My rooms are just upstairs. No waiting.” No time to reconsider or question herself.
“Guide us there.”
With his fingers intertwined with hers, and her heart pounding, she led him to the foyer.
Elspeth rose from the low stool upon which she sat and stared at Lucia and the buccaneer’s joined hands. Her wide gaze flew to Lucia’s.
“I’m leaving everything in your hands for the rest of the night.” Lucia looked levelly at her friend, but knew her gaze held a note of entreaty.
Only for tonight. For this single time, I’m taking something that’s meant for me alone.
Perhaps Elspeth understood how much Lucia needed the solace and distraction of pleasure, because she nodded.
“Enjoy your evening,” Elspeth said.
Silently, Lucia exhaled. She offered Elspeth a small, grateful smile before leading her buccaneer up the main staircase. As they climbed the stairs, she was acutely aware of his presence behind her, and the burn of his flesh against hers from merely the press of hands. The steps creaked with his mass, reminding her of his size, so much larger than her, giving her a foretaste of his weight on her. A thrill danced along her limbs and centered between her legs, where she was alive and sensitized.
The main corridor upstairs was lit by a single candle. Lucia stopped outside her door, fitting the key into the lock. She trusted her friends and the staff, but never knew when an inquisitive guest might manage to find their way into the private rooms where she, Kitty, and Elspeth lived.
As she slid the key into place, her buccaneer pressed close behind her, nuzzling