For the Duke's Eyes Only (School for Dukes #2)

by Lenora Bell

  “I wasn’t doing it to make you proud.”

  “Whatever your motives, you’ve accomplished so much and your achievements should never be downplayed, or dismissed.”

  “I do believe you’ve had a bit too much tipple, Raven. You’re losing your mocking edge.”

  His gaze intensified. “You’re the bravest person I know.”

  This new side of Raven was making it difficult to remember why she used to hate him.

  Of course, she was probably just looking at him through vodka-colored spectacles.

  “Isn’t Paris beautiful?” she asked. “I won’t be able to live in London after we break off our engagement. I’ll be a pariah. I think I’ll move here. I’ve always been more at home in Paris than in London. There are too many restrictions in London.” She stretched her arms wide, nearly touching the walls of the small carriage. “I want to give Paris a hug.”

  She wanted to give Raven a hug. Tell him that she loved being here with him. That she . . . loved him.

  That was the vodka talking. It made her overly-courageous. Of course she could never tell him that she loved him.

  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 feel everything.”

  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.”

  “Yes, but what if I did . . . this . . .” She brought her lips to his and kissed him.

  He only stiffened for an instant, then he kissed her hungrily.

  His hands still gripped her wrists. She loved knowing that all of that strength and muscle was at her command.

  She took his face in her hands. “This is probably, no definitely, the vodka talking, but I think you’re the most intriguing, handsome man in the world. If our lives were simpler, if we didn’t have this bitter history, if you weren’t the Rogue Duke and I wasn’t an outlandish archaeologist . . . we could drink wine and kiss on the streets of Paris.”

  “Right now that sounds like heaven.”

  She nibbled on his lower lip. “Mmm. Vodka-kissing.”

  When his lips touched hers nothing else seemed to matter except the next kiss, the next sweep of his tongue. How his hands closed around her hips, guiding her over his stiffness.

  What power to part her thighs and sink on top of him. His hands moved to her hips.

  “We’re nearly to the Palais Royal,” he said.

  She rocked against him. “Yes, nearly there.”

  His thumb sought her sex beneath her petticoats and skirts. Her drawers had an opening down the middle. He slipped inside. She moaned when he swiped his thumb over her sex.

  She felt beautiful and powerful and she never wanted this night to end.

  “I want to feast on you, devour you,” growled Raven. “What I really want to do is lift your hips, unbutton my breeches and sink my cock deep inside you.”

  His words nearly made her climax. She rubbed her sensitive flesh against his cock.

  “Take out your cock,” she said.

  He shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

  “Just . . . for a minute.” Her mind had gone wanton and wild. She wanted to feel his cock touching her intimate places. “We don’t have to . . . do anything. I just want to feel it. I want to see it.”

  She lifted her hips, holding on to the solid wall of his shoulders. He undid the buttons of his trousers and his cock sprang free. He ringed it with his fist. “Is this what you want?”

  She bit her lip, staring down at the glorious sight of Raven’s arousal. “God, I want you, Raven.”

  He groaned. “I want you, Indy. More than anything in the entire world. But we’re . . . in a carriage and we’re about to arrive at the Palais Royal.”

  “Then we’ll have to be quick about it.”

  She closed her thighs around his cock, rocking against him. He didn’t go inside her. He would never do that until she granted him permission.

  They didn’t have time, and the urgency made it even more erotic. His thumb moved to the hood of her sex and as she rocked against him, he touched her, slow and soft at first and then hard and fast in a staccato beat in march time.

  “Ah . . . ah . . . that feels so good.” She fell forward against his shoulder as pleasure rippled through her body. She lay still, wrung out and limp.

  Holding her limbs tight around his cock, he thrust upward between her thighs, never entering her. The full length of him sliding against her sensitive folds nearly made her climax again.


  “Indy, Gods. Indy,” he moaned. One last upward thrust and warmth trickled down her belly. He’d reached his pleasure as well.

  He wiped her belly clean with his handkerchief.

  She climbed off his lap and rearranged her skirts. He refastened his breeches.

  “I’ve marked you,” she said in a breathy, pleasure-laden voice that she almost didn’t recognize as her own. “You’re going to have a damp patch on your breeches.”

  “I don’t give a damn.” He smiled at her. “Let the world see. It’s a badge of honor.”

  She wanted to kiss him again.

  And again.

  Their carriage entered the yard of the Palais Royal.

  She wanted him to ride him, in truth this time. Take him deep inside her body. Give herself to him. It would be so sweet. So hot.

  She heard the distant sounds of gentlemen and ladies calling to one another. All of this merrymaking, the rush and revelry of life, could be theirs as well.

  “To be continued,” she whispered in his ear as the carriage slowed to a stop.

  Chapter 20

  “Le jeu est prêt, Messieurs et Mesdames,” announced the dealer, a slender man wearing a red-and-black-striped waistcoat that matched the alternating colors on the gaming table.

  The game was ready. It certainly was, thought Indy. And not just the game of chance she’d staked her brother’s money on tonight.

  Raven was staring at Le Triton, Le Triton hadn’t stopped staring at the necklace Indy wore, and Le Triton’s stunningly lovely companion, Miss Delacroix, hadn’t taken her eyes off Raven since the moment they entered.

  Raven hadn’t been exaggerating. Evil emanated from Le Triton in an almost visible aura. His gaze gave her a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  His face had flat planes, as if drawn on a cave wall by an ancient artist who hadn’t learned the meaning of dimensionality. He could be considered handsome, though he had a slight overbite that brought his upper lip into prominence. His eyes were light blue and his hair red brown. His ears were set high, and had hardly any lobes, just a slight incline into his jawline.

  The dealer flipped another card face upward. “Noir.” He would continue dealing until the cards turned exceeded thirty points in number. Then he’d do the same with the packet of red cards.

  When she looked at Le Triton she heard sinister music playing in the background. Cellos scraping rhythmically, drums beating in an insistent rhythm, music to signal that something ominous was about to happen in this room.

  This opulent, ostentatious room that looked like a giant ormolu clock, all creamy walls and gold coating every available surface. He wanted the world to know he was wealthy and powerful. The pettiest tyrants usually did.

  There was nothing tasteful about the room. Everything was designed to overpower the senses with overstated luxury. He was a man obsessed with wealth who would do anything for gold. He’d trample anyone in his path.

  Miss Delacroix was merely an expensive accessory, valued only for her pale golden beauty.

  If Indy had to hazard a guess, she’d say that Raven and Miss Delacroix knew each other quite well. Funny, because Raven hadn’t mentioned that he knew her, only that she was Sir Charles’s current mistress.

  She must be Raven’s former amour. A rush of red-hot jealousy made Indy’s fingers shake against the table. None of that, now. You can’t be possessive of something you don’t own.

  Indy watched Monsieur Le Triton as the cards turned.

  Her thoughts flew as quickly as the cards. She barely noticed when red was announced as the winner.

  A break in play was announced and most of the punters dispersed. Miss Delacroix approached Raven and Le Triton joined Indy.

  “Are you enjoying yourself, Lady India?”

  “Immensely, monsieur.”

  “Or perhaps I should call you Lady Danger?” His pale eyes wrinkled around the edges but his lips didn’t smile.

  “I answer to both.”

  “How did you receive your nickname, may I ask?”

  “Oh the scandal sheets love to give everyone nicknames. I’m a female in an unconventional occupation so I must love danger.”

  “You are an archaeologist, which is inherently dangerous, is it not? Tombs may collapse upon one’s head. Sands may shift.”

  Was that a veiled threat? Indy wished Raven would stop talking to the gilded Miss Delacroix. Indy would even welcome the aggressive ownership he’d displayed at the Louvre. Talking to Monsieur Le Triton raised the hairs at the back of her neck.

  “I’ve never been one to back down from danger,” she said.

  “I noticed the necklace you’re wearing. Perhaps it’s a replica?”

  Oh you did? she thought sarcastically. She flashed him a confident smile with plenty of teeth. “Not at all. It’s the real necklace.”

  He raised his brows. “Indeed. Then the duke has gifted it to you?”

  “Only on loan for the evening. Too ostentatious for my tastes. And far too weighty. I feel as though I’m wearing a heavy chain around my neck. I told him to sell the necklace. Why should he keep it? He has me now.”

  Le Triton bowed. “And you outshine any diamond.”

  “Thank you, monsieur.”

  “May I?” His hand hovered near her throat.

  She swallowed back revulsion and gave him another brilliant smile. “Of course.”

  He caressed the diamond at the center of the necklace with the tip of his finger. “Flawless.”

  Indy was playing Le Triton like a violin, and Raven wasn’t even watching. He and Miss Delacroix appeared to be having a heated argument.

  Indy should be the only woman allowed to argue with him.

  “Did you know that I was nearly the one to find the Wish Diamond?” asked Le Triton. “His Grace and I were racing and he beat me by only one day. I’ve always coveted it.”

  “I believe he does intend to sell. But only to the right purchaser and only a deal committed in person, at a place of his choosing.”

  “I do covet the necklace, but I’m not in the market for more antiquities at the moment. My collection is so vast that I’m focusing now on my other ventures, such as this gaming establishment.”

  Bollocks. That had been the whole plan. Entice him into an invitation for Raven to bring the jewels to his house. Now what was she supposed to do?

  “Will you take some refreshment, Lady India?” asked Le Triton. “You must sample my excellent champagne. I hear that your wedding to the duke will feature a champagne fountain. You must allow me to supply the champagne. Gratis.” He lifted two shallow, broad-bowled stemmed glasses from the tray of a passing waiter.

  He held his glass up to the gilt chandelier and candlelight danced through the bubbles in the champagne. “Legend has it that the coupe glass was designed to mimic the shape of Madame de Pompadour’s breast.”

  That’s what she deserved for coming to a gaming house where she was the only true lady present.

  Indy didn’t bat an eyelash. She lifted her glass. “To Madame’s perfect tits.”

  He smiled for the first time that evening and drank with her.

  She’d made him smile, that was a good start.

  “You surprise me, Lady India.”

  “Why is that, Monsieur? Because I speak of bawdy subjects?”

  “Because I don’t receive proper British ladies in my house very often. Never, actually. I wonder why you chose to come this evening?”

  He followed her gaze across the room, where Raven and Miss Delecroix were still arguing. Did his head have to be so very close to her head?

  “Ah.” Le Triton laughed. “I understand now. You don’t want to let him out of your sight. I don’t blame you. But if I may give you a word of advice, my lady, I wouldn’t try to keep too close a hold on that one.”

  Indy shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t own him. He may do as he pleases.” She sipped her champagne too quickly and the bubbles nearly made her sneeze.

  “
You’re not a very good liar, Lady India,” said Le Triton.

  The undercurrent of coldness in her voice put her on notice.

  “Ours will be a marriage of convenience. Two venerable houses aligned.”

  “An antiquities dynasty. The archaeologist and the fortune hunter.”

  “I hear you have a bust of Cleopatra in your collection,” said Indy. “How do you know it is she?”

  “I am quite the Cleopatra enthusiast. I have paintings, sculptures, coins with her likeness. I have one remarkable painting where she’s holding the asp outstretched and its head is nearly touching the point of her breast. I do love a femme fatale.”

  He kept staring at her breasts. And his conversation was insufferably lewd and familiar.

  The hairs on the back of her neck were now attempting to pluck themselves away from her skin. She didn’t know how much longer she could pretend to be fascinated by this conversation when what she wanted to do was slap him.

  “I’m sure the duke would find your collection most appealing,” she managed to say.

  “If it’s true that you and he are not exclusive in your affections, I would be most honored to invite you to come and see my collection.”

  That wasn’t the plan. She was supposed to entice Le Triton into inviting Raven to his home.

  “Well,” she said. “I suppose we must wait until after we’re married to cast our glances elsewhere.”

  “Too bad. I was looking forward to showing you my antiquities.”

  What was she supposed to do now? The necklace was supposed to have been Raven’s entrée into Le Triton’s fortress. But he’d just invited Indy to view his collection. Alone.

  “I am so very curious,” she said hastily. “But I’m not sure how the duke would feel about my going alone to a stranger’s home.”

  “Does he appear concerned for your welfare?” he asked.

  She glanced back toward where Raven and Miss Delacroix had been standing.

  “Where have they gone?”

  “I have several private chambers for the use of guests on the floor above us.”