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Perhaps it was time he taught her one as well. A lesson about hiding in wardrobes.
“By all means.” Raven shed the silk robe and flung it over a chair back.
Next he lifted his shirt over his head.
Harris approached. “If you’ll just lift your arms, Your Grace.”
“Happy to.” He stood, legs and arms spread wide, in full view of the wardrobe.
The valet began measuring his shoulders and back.
She’d played him just now, deliberately teased him and seduced him.
Two could play that game.
If she wanted a private show... he’d give her one.
Indy had an excellent view through the keyhole of the wardrobe. In her crouched position she was right at eye level with Raven’s nether regions.
The valet unbuttoned Raven’s trousers with practiced movements and Raven stepped out of them.
Rather suspicious how his crotch was so perfectly framed in her view. Had he moved closer and turned his body in just the right way to give her a show?
She could clearly see the outline of his formidable male organ through the thin cotton of his undergarments.
The valet made his measurements, reciting numbers that made her head spin a little.
Goodness his thighs were massive. And the vast length of his arm span... and the thickness of his neck.
If he were a statue in a museum she would examine him unabashed. Think of him as marble. Think of him as... well, that wasn’t bloody well going to work. She couldn’t think of him as anything but Raven, the man she wanted to seduce.
There, she’d admitted it. All of that practicing her feminine wiles so she’d be able to question Russian ambassadors and French criminals.
That had all been about seducing Raven.
Because she always felt so off-balance around him. She wanted him so badly and he remained impassive. She wanted him to lose control again, as he had in Edgar’s study and in the carriage. If he lost control, then she wouldn’t have to abandon her own tenuous hold on propriety.
She could be the ravished one, the one who kept her integrity and her boundaries and her emotional distance.
The valet moved behind him, measuring his back.
My word, the muscles in Raven’s stomach. What did he do to keep so fit and firm?
One, two, three... six ridges of hard muscle rippling down his narrow waist and over the base of his abdomen.
The scars on his chest lent him a dangerous air. She wondered again how he’d ended up with those scars.
The scars led her on a trail across his taut stomach and down to his thinly covered shaft again. Had it swollen in size? She stared in amazement. His male organ appeared to be... was ittwitching?
She tore her gaze away from his crotch.
A disastrous mistake. He was staring directly at the keyhole. He knew she was watching. This was all a show, for her eyes only.
The valet was still measuring his back, oblivious to the game Raven played.
Raven winked at her.
She jerked her head back, muffling a curse as a heavy woolen garment fell on her head.
