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Not even on this magical night when she felt like they owned Paris.
Raven tucked the edges of her black velvet cloak together, his knuckles brushing her chin. “Easy there, my lady. How many glasses of vodka did you have?”
“Don’t be a stick-in-the-mud.” She prodded him with her finger.
Solid steel under that coat. She poked his arm again.
He had to be flexing his muscles. No one walked around with arms of steel like that.
“You were always accusing me of being too serious and studious when we were children and you have this reputation for being the life of any party. Where’s the Rogue Duke tonight? That’s what I want to know.”
“Perhaps my reputation has been exaggerated.”
“Apparently. And that’s why I know there’s more to you than you want the world to see. But don’t worry, I won’t go down that conversational dead end again.”
He looked relieved by that. He really was hiding something. She was absolutely convinced of it.
“Can’t you feel it?” She hugged her arms around her chest. “Just look at them all.” She gestured out the window. The carriage had stopped at a crossroads and there were two lovers kissing in a doorway, lost to the world. “Paris is for lovers. See how happy they are? You were right, Raven. Life isn’t all work and no play. Sometimes I feel as though life is passing me by. As though I have a protective coating over my senses and nothing feels sharp or clear. Everything’s muted. Tonight I want to feeleverything.”
A drunkard stumbled past them and into the door of a café.
“Tomorrow there will be headaches and heartaches,” said Raven.
“There is no tomorrow,” she declared. “Only this night. One life to live. We know where the stone is and now all we have to do is charm our way inside the dragon’s lair.”
“I don’t want to rain on your optimism, but Le Triton is a crafty and volatile man and if he suspects that I have an ulterior motive for seeking to enter his fortress he’ll disappear faster than a gambler’s inheritance.”
“You’ve said that he’s evil. I’ll be very careful.”
“You carry a dagger, but I’ve heard on good authority that Le Triton keeps four razors about his person—in his boot, his hat band, and his cigar case. He’s an expert with blades of all kinds. He only has three fingers on his right hand but he throws with his left, and can sink a blade into any target from forty paces.”
“Why do you sound like an authority on knives suddenly?”
“I never said I didn’t know anything about knives.”
“Then what was that clumsy attack in the alleyway in London?”
“I was testing your reflexes.”
“I was testing yours, and I found them sorely lacking.”
And then, all of a sudden, she was sitting on his lap.
What had just happened? She’d been sitting over there on the seat next to him one second ago. He’d moved but she hadn’t registered movement until she was...
Sitting on his lap.
“My reflexes are lightning quick,” he said gruffly, stroking her hair away from her face.
“What if I did...this?” She had been going to jab him in the ribs but he easily caught her wrist before she could.
She tried to surprise him with a left-handed slash. He caught her left hand in his.
He lifted her hands by the wrists. She was well and truly trapped.
“If we weren’t in a carriage I’d be able to break this hold,” she huffed.
“You should be able to break it anywhere. You’re skilled with your knife but you should have more lessons in hand-to-hand combat at close quarters. When you return to London I’ll send you an instructor.”
