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The problem with Ravenwood was that he was nearly impossible to ignore.
Take today, for example. All eyes in the room were on him and every ear tuned to his resonant voice because he was holding forth on the asinine topic of nipples.
Yes,nipples.
Indy heaved an inward sigh. Of course he was. Should she expect any less? And he wasn’t just holding forth.
He had visual aids.
“See here, chaps,” he said, gesturing at the marble bust of Aphrodite on the table in front of him. “This one is slightly larger than the other, which lends a wonderful air of veracity to the sculpture, wouldn’t you say?”
“Let me have a closer look.” The Earl of Montrose brought his monocle to his eye and peered at the statue’s rounded charms. “Ah yes, very lifelike indeed.”
Ravenwood skimmed his finger along the underside of a marble breast.
Which shouldn’t make her heart beat faster or do damnably fluttery things to her belly.
“Most females, I’ve observed,” Ravenwood continued, “tend to possess one breast that is slightly larger than the other. It’s like their charming bosoms are giving me a cheeky, lopsided grin.”
Oh ha ha, thought Indy.Very amusing.
“You’re the expert in these matters,” said the Duke of Westbury, who was sitting next to Ravenwood.
“I am, rather.” Ravenwood extracted a small silver flask from a pocket somewhere and took a long swallow.
Who brought a flask to at an antiquities meeting?
And another thing—why didn’t women’s clothing possess enough pockets for stashing flasks and other important items? She’d have to ask her dressmaker to add more pockets to her traveling gowns.
“Care for a nip?” Ravenwood asked Westbury, who accepted the flask.
Indy had no idea why Westbury was here. She’d never known her brother’s friend to have any interest in antiquities. He was a notorious rake and inebriate, though she didn’t think he was the mean kind of drunk, as her father had been.
Westbury had the countenance of a fallen angel, aglow with wicked beauty, but who could pay attention to him when Ravenwood was in the room?
Every single time she saw him she momentarily abandoned her intellect. And it wasn’t just her—she’d seen it happen to countless other ladies.
Sensible, strong-minded, stouthearted ladies reduced to breathless, blushing, eyelash-flapping ninnies.
When he was in the room, she had a nearly uncontrollable desire to cause herself pain. Like that winter when they were children and he’d dared her to stick her tongue on a frosty iron gate.
She’d known she shouldn’t do it, but she never backed down from one of Daniel’s dares.
She’d had a raw patch on the tip of her tongue for days.
She hated that every time their paths crossed she couldn’t take her eyes off him.
Her hand rose to her cravat. The starched male neck cloth hid more than her lack of a prominent Adam’s apple. It hid the necklace she wore; a thin gold chain supporting the weight of a copper coin nestled within a pronged setting. The Minerva coin Ravenwood had chosen for her on that long-ago summer day, before everything went so wrong.
She didn’t wear the coin around her neck because she harbored a sentimental attachment to their lost connection.
Not in the least.
She wore it as a constant reminder that she must never trust her heart to anyone ever again.
She was completely on her own in life’s grand adventure.
Lady Danger versus the World.
