Page 38 of How to Tempt a Duke

“I think I’d very much like to be scandalous with you.”

He grinned at her, his lips parting over his perfect teeth and making him appear very much the pirate. Heat burned its way up from Eleanor’s neck and scalded her cheeks.

The Duke of Somersville did not move closer to her, and yet the intimate glint in his eye made her feel as though he’d just closed the proper proximity.

“Why, Lady Eleanor,” he said with feigned concern. “You appear to have overexerted yourself on the dance floor. Perhaps you ought to forgo this set and venture to the veranda for a bit of air?”

Her breath caught. Had the Duke of Somersville just suggested she meet him for a tryst?

And was she truly considering it?

Chapter Twelve

Charles did not wait for Lady Eleanor’s reply before he bowed and took his leave. The suggestion of her joining him on the veranda hung in the air between them, ripe with temptation.

He let the stretch of time work in his favor and strode with a purposeful gait through the ballroom, nodding at the few attendees he recognized favorably and ignoring those he did not. Masquerade balls could be very convenient for avoiding unwanted social interactions.

And for creating enticing ones.

Everything in him wanted to turn and look behind him, to see if the sparkling Ice Queen of the ball followed, his invitation answered. He had to force his head to remain straight ahead, fixed on the doors to the terrace.

Several people milled about outside, in search of either fresh air, a moment unseen by an escort, or a liberating break for solitude. It was not improper for one to go outside alone at a ball, even less so at a masquerade ball, where minor transgressions were glanced over. It was his suggestion which had been improper, bordering on indecent.

Though it was not his place to crave it, he wanted a moment with her alone, somewhere she would be only his. Where suitors would not be present, seeking a dance or some of the attention she’d doled out with charming smiles and genuine attentiveness. The idea of her being solely with him eased some of the curious knots tightening in his stomach.

He stepped through the doors onto the veranda. The music was muted by the closing door, and the quiet of night overtook him.

The door opened behind him, but Charles did not look to see who had arrived. A tingling at the back of his neck told him that his senses had picked up everything he needed to know.

Lady Eleanor had arrived.

He didn’t have to turn, but he did, for he would not miss the sight of her striding toward him.

“Ah, Lady Eleanor.”

He’d meant to say more, but the words died on his tongue. Moonlight caught and twinkled in the crystals on her dress and hair, making her shimmer. The white cloth blended with the fairness of her skin, so only the pale blue fabric of the gown and slit sleeves showed, as delicate as a moonbeam across her skin.

“What a happy coincidence, meeting you here,” he said, finally finding his voice.

She inclined her head respectfully and set the copper of her hair shining. “Your Grace...”

She stood beside him at the railing on the terrace and rested her fingers on the thick band of marble, a mere fraction of an inch from his own. How he longed for such separation to be closed between them, so he might delicately run a finger over the back of her gloved thumb. A slow stroke, easy and sensual—but one he would not make.

“I assume you’ve had a pleasant evening?” Her casual tone indicated no nervousness at being with him outside, alone.

“I have,” he answered in earnest. For it had been so when she was dancing in his arms. “It would appear you have become quite popular.”

Lady Eleanor’s eyes danced in the night. “Is it not enough for you to be a humble pirate, but you must also be one prone to jealousy?”

Jealous? Him? It was so ridiculous a notion Charles could only scoff.

Eleanor lifted her brows and fixed her attention to the garden—a convenient distraction. He edged his hand closer, drawn by an unseen force, and grazed the back of her thumb with his forefinger before he realized what he was doing. The fine quality of their gloves glided against one another.

Eleanor gave a quiet gasp and met his stare, her eyes luminous. Blood rushed through his body and he found himself wishing to pull the gloves from them both, to caress the silky heat of her naked skin on his.

Gloves. Confound it.

He could have shaken his head at his own thoughts. He’d been too long abstinent from the fairer sex if he was thinking merely of removing gloves and touching hands.