Page 36 of How to Tempt a Duke

Her lips were pursed in a shrewd expression. He wanted to push his mouth against them and drag the tip of his tongue over her lower lip until she opened for him with a soft, eager breath.

Damn it. She was the daughter of his enemy, the keeper of what he needed. She was a means to an end, not a plaything.

“I do.” His reply came out lacking the smugness he’d intended.

“Of course you do.” She tossed her head, a haughty move so carefully blended into her steps anyone might assume she’d done it as part of the dance. “How very convenient.”

There was something in their verbal tête-à-tête he was rather enjoying. Her blend of astute observation and bold flirtation was enticing, and the glint of those green eyes certainly caught his attention.

“You look as though you are planning to make a bargain with the devil,” he said.

“I very well might be.”

His hand went to her waist again, while the other held hers at shoulder-height as they paraded around the dance floor, forced to regard one another from the side.

“Go on,” he pressed.

“You have the key,” she said. “And I have the journals.”

“What do you want for them?” He spun her around.

“My request is twofold. Firstly, I want us to work together.” Her voice was gentle, breathy...the way a lover’s might be after a particularly passionate tryst.

“I’m a pirate, mind you—not a devil.” He winked at her and reveled in her pretty flush.

The orchestra began to slow until the last notes faded away almost regretfully.

“And I’m not truly an Ice Queen.” She curtseyed to him as he bowed.

She was indeed not an Ice Queen. The title of Ice Queen belonged to her mother, who now glared at him with all the hatred in the world. The Countess of Westix truly was a woman befitting a man like her late husband.

“What is the second part of your request?” he asked as he offered her his arm to lead her back to the watchful viper.

“If I am unable to find a husband you must agree to marry me.”

His step faltered. Was she serious?

But the Countess of Westix was not the only person who awaited Lady Eleanor’s return. Several men milled about the Countess, chatting in idle conversation while keeping their focus firmly planted on the glittering form of Lady Eleanor.

They snapped to attention like well-trained pups at her approach.

“I do not think the latter concern will be an issue,” Charles offered.

“Only because the elusive new Duke of Somersville danced with me.” She tutted. “Besides, it should not be a true concern. And to think just this afternoon you were willing to court me.”

The wry twist of Lady Eleanor’s lips told him she had seen through his ruse. It also told him well enough how she felt about it.

“Think on it,” Lady Eleanor said as he bowed a final time and released her to those so wholly unworthy of her company. “I’d like an answer soon.”

“Tonight,” he said.

It was an audacious suggestion, for it meant they would either have to be alone together at some point, in order to speak candidly, or he would be dancing another set with her. One or the other would certainly set a flame to the possible kindling of a scandal.

Charles turned from depositing Lady Eleanor among the pack of puppy-eyed suitors and all but bumped into an angel on his departure. But not truly an angel, for surely no celestial being had so robust a bosom as the one being tilted with obvious calculation in his direction.

The angel curtseyed. “Your Grace.”

He nodded, unable to scrape up her name from his memory. Her face certainly was familiar, with its pink apple cheeks and bright blue eyes framed by a white feathered mask.