Exclusive excerpt: 'The Duke and the Lady in Red' by Lorraine Heath

HEA is thrilled to share an excerpt from Lorraine Heath's The Duke and the Lady in Red (out today!), the finale of her Scandalous Gentlemen of St. James series.

About the book (courtesy of Avon Books):

When Rosalind Sharpe gains the attention of the deliciously wicked Duke of Avendale, she's torn between her distracting attraction to the notorious rogue and the knowledge that he—rich as Croesus—is the perfect target for a deception that will put her swindling days behind her.

However Avendale is no fool. After he discovers the tantalizing lady packing up to leave London with his coins in tow, he confronts her with a scandalous proposition: she can have all the money she requires…for a week in his bed.

Desperate for the funds, Rose agrees, but on one condition: he must never question her motives. Avendale quickly sees beneath her mask and discovers she is more than passion and pleasure—she is everything he has ever desired. But claiming her requires he unveil her secrets and lose her forever. Unless he can put his own dark past aside and risk everything for a chance at love.

EXCERPT

From Chapter 3, when Rosalind is watching the roulette wheel at the gaming club The Twin Dragons …

A hand came to rest on the side of her waist, and she was remarkably aware of a broad chest at her back. She might have been startled if his presence wasn't so powerful, if she hadn't sensed his approach before he arrived.

"Have you ever played?" Avendale whispered low against her ear, and she fought not to alert him to the tiny shiver that coursed through her at his nearness.

"No, but it seems rather easy."

"Which means the odds of losing is greater." He set some coins on the table. The man who had spun the wheel gave him a stack of green disks and placed a small metal token on it. Avendale held the disks out to her. "Place them wherever you like."

"I don't want to lose your money."

"It's only money."

She ground her back teeth together to withhold a scathing retort. Only money to him. Life to her.

Peering at him through lowered eyelashes, giving him a gamine smile, she took the wooden circles and placed them all on twenty-five, Harry's age.

"You can spread them out if you like," Avendale said.

"I believe in all or nothing."

She felt a subtle tightening of his hand on her waist.

"As do I," he rasped so low she suspected no one else heard.

The croupier waved his hand over the table, spun the wheel, dropped the ball—

Rose was acutely aware of Avendale's inappropriate nearness. She should elbow him, get him to move, and yet she relished the heat of him, his fragrance, his breath feathering along strands of her hair. She didn't want the ball to ever roll into a slot. She wanted to stay as she was forever, which was remarkably stupid and shortsighted. She had responsibilities. A plan.

"Thirty-three black," the croupier called out.

Rose slammed her eyes closed, released with a great huff the breath she'd been holding. Opening her eyes, she peered up at Avendale. "I'm so sorry."

"Have dinner with me, and I'll forgive you."

She released a light laugh. "Forgive me? When I had no control over the outcome?"

"You chose the number. Besides you apologized so you must be feeling a measure of guilt. I merely wish to relieve you of it. Have you eaten this evening?"

"Nothing substantial."

"I've yet to sample the dining room here, but I do know the cook is excellent."

"I suppose I'm feeling a bit peckish."

"Splendid." He offered his arm, but the intensity of his gaze gave her pause. He could destroy her plans so easily. Or perhaps he would turn out to be her savior.

She placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. Merrick had discovered that Avendale was quite well off. A lot of activity was going on at his residence, as though he were moving out a previous mistress in hopes of moving in a different one. If he was thinking of her for that role, he was going to be disappointed as Rose had no plans to be his mistress, to visit his bed. But his interest indicated that she could taunt him, make him want her until he was willing to give her whatever she asked. Only to discover too late that he would not acquire all he desired.

She had some standards, arbitrary and low though they may be.

As they made their way to the dining room, she caught the occasional inquisitive, speculative glance from gents and ladies, but was relieved to see—once they entered the dining room—that nearly every occupied table was a couple. Two gents were seated at one table. At two others were solitary gentlemen. But this seemed to be a place that catered more to couples.

Avendale spoke low with a man in red livery. Then they were escorted to a distant corner that housed more shadows than light.

She had the irritating notion that he was ashamed to be seen with her. "Would it be better to not isolate ourselves?" she asked, not bothering to hide her pique at being hidden away.

"I want to get to know you better," he said. "Being away from the others suits my purpose."

"They may think we're up to no good."

"They all know me well enough to know that I'm always up to no good."

"You say that with such pride."

"One must excel at something and I excel at being fodder for gossip."

Had he no shame? How wonderful it must be to be in a position not to care what others thought. He nodded toward the footman or whatever the man was, and the servant quickly pulled out her chair.

Hesitating, she considered the other couples. Surely they were not all married, surely sitting with Avendale in a darkened corner would not cause damage to her reputation, to her goal. On the other hand, sitting in the shadows with him might make everything else moot, might allow her to gain what she wanted that much more quickly.

She sank onto the seat and proceeded to peel off a glove. Before she could blink, Avendale was kneeling beside her, taking her hand. "Allow me."

She fought not to appear stunned. "Get up. People are likely to think you're proposing marriage."

"As I said, they know me well enough here, and so they know I'm not engaged in any such nonsense. Although before the night is done I intend to propose something quite wicked."

His eyes darkened as they met hers. With that devilish smile of his, how could she take offense? She couldn't blame him for his forthrightness when she'd accepted his kiss the other night. In fact, she preferred it. The game he was playing was more honest than hers. "I believe, Your Grace, that you have mistaken me for a woman of questionable moral character. I assure you I am no light-skirt."

"I'm counting on it."

What the devil did he mean by that? Then all thoughts fled her mind as he slowly stroked a blunt-tipped finger along the inside of her upper arm, above the glove. Down. Up once more. Pleasure skidded along her skin, warmed her to the core.

When he reached the glove again, he began slowly rolling it down, the edge of his fingers caressing her skin, a hint of a touch, more a promise, until the supple kidskin was gathered at her wrist. She wondered if he could feel the throbbing of her pulse there.

Gently he tugged on each finger, until he finally peeled the glove away. He held her fingers, strength and assurance in his hold. He wasn't cocky. She didn't even think he could be classified him as arrogant, but he was a man who understood his place in the world was at its peak, and he could not be toppled from it. She imagined his ancestors on a battlefield. They would have led the charge; even if they had been the last ones standing, they'd have not gone down in defeat. She had an insane realization that she should have stayed at the roulette wheel. The odds may have been with the house, but she thought she might have stood a better chance at beating them than beating him. Then again, she did so love a challenge and outfoxing him would bring such satisfaction.

He took her other hand, gave the exact same ministrations to the skin above her elbow, caressing with soft deliberation before removing her glove. Only this time when he took her fingers, he turned her palm up and pressed a kiss to its heart. Her lungs froze. Everything within her told her to run, but she had only run twice in her life. The first time had resulted in failure and a beating. But she had learned the hard lesson. The second time, no one had been able to catch her.

In the years since, wisdom had taught her the value in standing her ground. He could only win if she let him. "You're taking liberties you shouldn't."

He lifted his gaze to hers. She saw the amusement there, and a hint of victory. It appeared he was one to stand his ground as well. "This is a place of vice and sin. Ladies should comprehend the significance of that if they want entry."

"You're using me to set an example. That could be most dangerous, Your Grace." Leaning over she bussed a kiss against his cheek, before sliding her mouth to his ear and whispering in a low sultry voice, "Know that two can play this game."

Find out more about Lorraine and her books at www.lorraineheath.com.