Page 43 of King Takes Queen

“You would rather be Madame Rose than become the Countess of Drake.” His statement left a sour taste upon his tongue. He wanted her to denounce his claim, prove he was right that it wasn’t about merely taking on the role as Madame Rose for a Season—it was the freedom it gave her.

He sank down beside her on the settee. Minerva reached for his hand and shifted to face him. Egad. Had he been wrong?

He squeezed her hand, prompting her to speak her mind.

Minerva rolled her shoulders back and said, “You are a peer. A gentleman. You don’t understand.”

“Explain it to me.” If his scheme to win succeeded, they needed to be able to communicate openly and honestly with one another, rather than keeping their fears to themselves, as they had in the past.

“Very well.” She had dropped the singsong lilt to her voice and returned to her no-nonsense, direct speech. “It’s not that I don’t want to be your wife, it’s that I…I want to win, so that I may gain my freedom to be Madame Rose. The freedom to…” She snapped her mouth closed and lowered her gaze to her lap.

He wanted to confess that he understood, but they needed to have the conversation so they both fully understood the stakes of their match. If she was to become his wife, she needed to trust him, to believe she could share her deepest desires and dreams.

He ran his thumb over her knuckles. “Freedom to do what?”

“To experience life.” She lifted her gaze to him. Eyes bright with hope, she continued, “I want the freedom to be more than the daughter of an earl.”

They were making progress. He wanted to see her smile. “So…what you are telling me is that you want the choice to take on any role that might capture your fancy. Pirate, explorer, or even…” Her needlepoint was atrocious and her least favorite endeavor, so he added, “Dressmaker.”

Minerva granted him his wish—she grinned at him and replied, “Yes and no. Yes, I want to do whatever it is that captures my interest…” A flare of desire burned bright in her gaze. “I want the option to pursue adventures here close to my family and…” Minerva released his hand and stood. She meandered to the window and peered down. Barely louder than a whisper, she added, “I want to experience what a spinster can only dream of.”

Damn the minx. She wasn’t fantasizing about sailing the seas; she was alluding to the intimacies between a man and a woman. He shot to his feet and strode to stand behind her. “What do spinsters dream of?” He already knew the answer, but would she be daring enough to say it, to demand it?

She turned. The moonlight fell upon her flushed cheeks that even face paint could not hide. “Of taking a lover and never being caught.” Minerva wrapped her arms around his neck and guided his head down to her.

One kiss. He’d grant her one kiss.

Wrapped in his arms, her lush form pressed against him, igniting every nerve in his body. She made him feel full of life. Invincible. Desired.

One of her petite hands left the back of his neck and trailed down his chest between them, and then lower to cup his engorged manhood. Her bold touches had him acting on instinct. He released the clasps at the back of her gown and eased the material down until it pooled at her feet. He skimmed his palm over her bare bottom and then gave her a good smack.

She froze and stared up at him. With a smirk she ran her thumb along the full length of him trapped in his pants up to the tip, and then flicked the sensitive head with her finger. A groan escaped him. She was a quick learner, and, as a chess master, she would match his every move.

He bent and scooped her up in his arms, and her silk stockings caressed his forearms. Five quick, long strides and they were back next to the settee. He should take her to bed, tuck her in, and leave. But he didn’t trust himself to go anywhere near a bed, not when he had so little self-control left.

Minerva glanced over his shoulder at her bed. He ignored her unspoken plea and sat on the settee and adjusted her on his lap. His cock ached as her bottom slid against it.

“Do you intend to win our match?” she asked.

“I do.”

She leaned in closer. “Then if you win—”

He didn’t let her finish. “There is no if. I will win.”

Lips aligned with his, Minerva poked her tongue out over her bottom lip. He wanted to devour her mouth and suck on her tongue like he had two years ago. She hadn’t forgotten. But the minx was playing a dangerous game. He had little, if any, self-control to speak of.

She guided his head down to speak into his ear. “If you are certain, then there is no harm if we indulge tonight.”

His muddled brain followed her logic. Honor would dictate he refuse her offer and wait until he had won before taking her innocence.

Minerva’s nimble fingers had worked the buttons of both his jacket and waistcoat free. Without hesitation, he stripped out of the garments and his lawn shirt. He wanted to feel her skin next to his. He’d refrained two years ago and regretted it every day since. He wasn’t one to repeat mistakes.

Mid-stroke down her thigh, his hand froze. What if he lost?

Minerva trailed kisses along his neck and then his shoulder, sending a tingling sensation down his spine and firing every cell below his waist. Blood pooled in his loins.

“Drake, take me to bed,” she whispered, nipping at his ear.