Page 20 of Rogue Lyon

She laughed suddenly, a light, little sound that made him smile. “I am not a reader of Shakespeare. My mother is, though, and often quotes him. That is one I remember.”

“And a good one, as someone interested in history, not just England, but all of Europe. You are right, or rather, Shakespeare is right.”

“There is always someone plotting to steal a king’s crown, is there not?”

He nodded and stepped up close to her. The scent of soap and powder filled his nose. “Always.”

“So what I am saying,” she whispered, her voice softer now, “is that your destiny places you here. You might not have vast swathes of land or titles, but you can live a good life, marry whom you choose, and sleep easy at night.”

“I do sleep easy…mostly.” He tucked his index finger beneath her chin and tipped her face to his. “Do you?”

Her breath hitched and he saw the same desire in her eyes that he knew was in his.

“Mostly,” she repeated his word.

“And tonight,” he whispered, his lips now so close to hers, he could feel her warm breath, “I will dream of a pretty, little maiden who commands a chessboard with great skill and talks of destiny the way most people plan a meal.”

“Jules,” she whispered, “what are you—”

He pressed his lips to hers, bracing as he did so in case she shoved him away and slapped his cheek.

But she didn’t. The intriguing woman now in his arms allowed the kiss to deepen and his tongue to find hers.

When he pulled back, they were both breathless.

“What are you doing?” She touched her damp lips.

“Kissing a pretty maiden.”

“I am not pretty.” She frowned. “And Jules Habsburg, you really are as scandalous as everyone says.” She stepped away and wrapped her arms around herself as though blocking him from approaching.

“You are pretty to me.” His shoulders tensed, the lovely relaxed feeling of moments ago vanishing. “And who says I am scandalous?”

“Everyone.” She shook her head. “Mrs. Dove-Lyon, Nancy…”

Mrs. Dove-Lyon wasn’t a surprise. “Who is Nancy?”

“My friend here.” She glanced at the door.

“You can leave if you wish,” he said. “I will never breathe a word of this. It was just… I was… You were irresistible. I had to steal a kiss.”

“Like you did on the private terrace with the Duke of Marlborough’s daughter?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Ah, so you heard about that?”

“It’s true, then?” Her cheeks flushed and she looked nervously at the clock.

“The private terrace, not the kiss. I had no desire to kiss her then and I have no desire to now. To say we are not compatible is an understatement.” He risked a step closer. “But you… You have captured my mind, Meredith. What else is there about you for me to learn?”

“I’m sorry…but I have to go.” Again, she glanced at the door and this time, she made toward it. “Please, I bid you farewell.”

“But…”

She was gone. In an instant. All he had left of her was the lingering taste of sweet wine and pretty woman on his lips. “Damn it,” he muttered. He should have guessed she’d startle like a deer. Subtlety had never been his strong point, or patience, for that matter.

But determination was a quality he had. Giving up wasn’t an option. No matter what he was doing or whom he was pursuing.

The next afternoon, Jules found himself loitering by the ladies’ entrance of the Lyon’s Den. Often, in the evening, there were two women protectors at this entrance, but luckily, early afternoon, they were not in sight.