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As much as she hated to admit it, the best way to convince him to leave might be to tell him the truth, at least the partial truth.
“I’m here because I’ve no other way to view the Rosetta Stone in person,” she said carefully. “I’ve been working from an imperfect ink lithograph and I need to consult the primary source.”
“You’re translating something important?”
She would never tell him about the map. She didn’t trust him even the width of a coin. She couldn’t trust anyone. Male colleagues had sought to discredit her work too many times. “I need to consult the stone to verify something.”
“Well then, by all means, please continue with whatever it was you were doing. Don’t mind me. I’ll just stand here while you work and then escort you out before anyone realizes there’s an overly ambitious female in their midst.”
Don’t mind him.
When he stood there with his formidable arms crossed over his chest, looking like every filthy, forbidden fantasy she’d ever imagined in her lonely bed at night.
Don’t mind him.
When she’d never been able to concentrate on anything else when he was nearby.
“I’d prefer it if you left the ambitious lady to her work,” she said, crossing her arms over her (currently squashed flat) chest.
“Wouldn’t the newspaper writers love to see us right now?” he asked with a sardonic grin. “I can imagine the headline:The Rogue Duke Ruins Lady Danger’s Daring Deception.”
“Humph. I was thinking more along the lines of:Lady Danger Penetrates Male Sanctum, Pronounces it ‘Right Dull and Dreary.’”
“Pardon?” he sputtered. “Penetrates malewhat?”
“Sanctum.” She tried not to laugh and lost the battle, the sound emerging from her lips halfway between a giggle and a snort.
The gleam of humor in his eyes told her that he enjoyed their verbal sparring just as much as she did, fight it as she might.
They faced each other in the lamplight, adversaries who used to be compatriots.
He knew how to make her laugh. He knew how to wound her.
He was her one and only weakness.
He always had been.
Raven kicked himself for not recognizing her instantly. How could he have been so careless?
She was pure, unadulterated temptation.
Hell in Hessian boots.
Even with all her heavy black hair tucked under a wig. Even with that ridiculous moustache pasted haphazardly above her full lips.
Especially wearing tight trousers that hugged her shapely bum.
It was easy to maintain a steady stream of suggestive jests around her because that’s where his mind always went when she was in the room.
All this talk of putting her over his knee had achieved a truly impressive result, which she would no doubt be able to discern the shape of should her gaze travel... damn it!
Her gaze traveled.
Even worse, her pink tongue appeared and she licked her lips. Did she even know what that did to him?
Staring at the outline of his prick and licking her lips.
Raven went weak at the knees. Literally. He longed to sink to the floor. Kneel in front of her. He wouldn’t put her over his knee. He’d back her up against that basalt chunk of history and pleasure her with his tongue until she moaned obscenities.
