Page 36 of Rogue Lyon

“Come to Paris with me.”

“What?” Her eyebrows shot up in surprise and her mouth formed a perfect ‘O.’

“Come to Paris with me. I have to go to an art exhibition, leaving tomorrow. Come with me, Meredith. We would have the time of our lives.” He leaned closer still. “That is my promise to you.”

Chapter Nine

Meredith stared up at Jules’s handsome face. It was hard to believe what she’d just heard.

Believe what he’d just suggested.

Paris.

Her. Meredith Jones. Go to Paris.

His smiled widened, as though he were enjoying her flabbergasted reaction.

“What would it look like if I just left, with you…for Paris? It would hardly be proper.”

“It would look like you are my new assistant, or pupil, whichever you wish.” He gently stroked the back of his thumb down her cheek.

“I… I don’t know.” What on earth was she doing? Why hadn’t she just said no and stomped from the room? Because it was Paris, that was why, and the things she had heard about it had made her yearn to visit at least once in her humdrum life.

And to go with Jules. Could it get any better? The suggestion was a sweet treat dangling right before her for the taking.

But oh, what would it look like? And she knew full well Jules couldn’t be trusted not to kiss her, hold her…touch her in the special place that took her to such ecstasy.

“How about I speak to Mrs. Dove-Lyon?” he suggested, his lips a mere whisper from hers. “Reschedule your chess lessons, explain that it is all aboveboard, perfectly honorable, and then I’ll get the crossing booked.”

“She will not allow it. Of that, I am certain.”

“You are a grown woman, Meredith.” His voice was a little firmer. “It is for you to decide and then together, we can make it happen.”

“My mother sent me here from Wales to…” She shook her head, not wanting to admit she’d resorted to such measures to find marriage.

“So say you are going home to visit your mother,” he said, a mischievous twinkle filling his eyes. “She cannot deny you that.”

“I can’t. I…” Oh, but she could. How difficult would it be? Not very.

“Meredith,” he whispered as he moved closer still.

“You really are a…” She stared into his eyes. What was it about this troublesome man that she couldn’t resist? It wasn’t just his handsome face and his perfectly formed body, it was the way he saw the world as a playground. A place where he could pick and choose destiny, a place where rules were meant to be broken and fun was there for the taking.

“I am a what?” he asked, barely holding back a grin.

She swallowed. “You are… I mean… I…”

“Just say yes. One little word.” His lips brushed hers so softly, it was like a butterfly wing brushing past. “Please.”

“Yes.” She placed her hands on his chest, over his woolen jacket. “I will, as long as Mrs. Dove-Lyon is accepting of me traveling to Wales just before this tournament.”

“She will be. A sick mother takes priority.”

“‘A sick mother.’” She shook her head. “You really do have a solution for every obstacle that stands in your way.”

“That is all part of my charm.” He chuckled and kissed her. Not in the wild, desperate way he had before, but in a gentle, reverent way that made her heart melt and her body beg to be claimed.

And then he was gone. With a few sharp footsteps and a slam of the door, Meredith found herself alone and using the wall to prop herself up.