Read Online To Dare the Duke of Dangerfield by Bronwen Evans - Free Book Online Page B

prominently on display.  
    She needed the duke as distracted as possible if she was to have any hope of out-maneuvering his skilful wagers. She would create a diversion and hope his mind was on the bedding rather than the betting. If she won the first challenge, then the odds of winning the wager increased dramatically. Her baking skills could not be relied upon, but she had Ace of Spades . The horse race was hers for the taking.
    Her cloak hid her “diversions” from view, but when Henry’s butler signaled for the footman to take it from her shoulders her instinct was to tug the garment tighter around her shoulders. It took everything she had in her to let it go.  
    She felt naked and exposed.
    The butler led her along to the library where she’d been practicing all week. She hadn’t beaten Harlow once in their previous encounters. Surely tonight must be her night to win.
    She asked the butler not to announce her and quietly slipped into the room. Marcus was laying out the Faro table. Henry was nowhere to be seen. Harlow stood facing the fire, a brandy balloon in his hand. It appeared as though he was trying to read the flames and, deep in thought, he did not hear her enter.
    She stood watching him in that unguarded and somehow more human moment, the slightly stubborn jut of his chin pronounced. Despite her anger at being put in the position of having to barter herself in order to win back that which was rightfully hers, Caitlin couldn’t fault the man in any other way.
    He looked exceedingly handsome tonight and she was pleased that she’d made an effort to match him with her latest attire.  
    Her fascinated gaze traced the strong lines of his throat as they disappeared into a stark white cravat. His evening coat of midnight blue gave a bluish tint to his black curls. The cloth fit him like a tight glove molding a hand, stretching over his broad shoulders, tapering down to accentuate his muscled chest and lean waist, before curving over his derrière like a caress.
    She scrunched her itching fingers into a fist. She mustn’t touch. The urge to move closer and somehow absorb his masculinity almost overpowered her. Look away .
    She ran an assessing gaze down the length of her body. Would he be as captivated by her charms? At the very least Caitlin hoped her looks would unsettle him as much as he unsettled her. She took a few deep breaths and moved silently into the room, heading towards the rows of books on the opposite wall.
    She needed time to compose herself. He was too good at reading people. Like any predator, he’d circle her fear and dart in for easy pickings.
    She sensed the moment when Harlow first noticed her arrival. The fine hairs at her nape bristled.  
    “I’m pleased to see you know how to keep time. You’re early.” He was standing too close behind her, the low timbre of his voice coaxing her to turn round.
    She did so. Slowly. Wanting the full impact of her dress to overcome him. When she finally faced him, she looked up into his eyes, her composure complete.  
    He gave a choked cough. “Good God, how’s a man to concentrate with those staring at him all night? And I thought I preferred you in trousers.” His eyes narrowed. “Well played, Lady Southall.”
    “Thank you.” She felt a hint of smile crease her lips.  
    It soon disappeared—shattered—when he reached out and trailed his fingers over the creamy swells of her breasts. She batted his hand away. His fingers returned, sweeping over the skin.  
    “What do you think you are doing?” she asked breathlessly. “Stop it.”
    “I’m evening the score,” he almost growled.
    He moved closer and she stepped backed until she hit the bookshelf behind her. He kept moving forward until the hardness of his chest crushed her breasts. She felt her nipples harden against the lace that was holding them discreetly hidden, just, from view.  
    “Can you imagine how good it will feel when my lips replace my fingers? When I lick every inch