Page 10 of The One With the Scoundrel of a Duke (Wicked Widows’ League #31)

T HE NEXT MORNING, AUDRA was beginning to grow a bit weary in her fight to keep Lucas out of her mind. Every time she stopped thinking about him for a moment, she congratulated herself on the success and subsequently began thinking about him all over again.

She almost wished she had sought him out in his bedchambers last night to appease her curiosity about the man.

But being a rake, she allotted him one dimension, one layer, that of seducing women.

And really, that’s all he had revealed to her so far, so why would she be inclined to give the man the benefit of the doubt to having more layers?

Except when they had been playing Bridge…he had given her that look. And it had been the very briefest glimpse of the man being capable of something more than merely objectifying women.

Terrifying in fact, because it was the slightest indication that he could worship them.

A shiver skipped up her spine in delight. If she was more flexible, she would have swatted it away, since it was not a sensation she wanted to indulge.

Knowing the best way to clear her head involved music, she sought out the music room they had.

Once she reached the door, she could hear the notes coming from the pianoforte.

They caused her to stop in her steps and listen.

But more than stilling her steps, they quieted her heartbeats.

The restlessness that had plagued her last night.

The dreams of the broad-shouldered man. His lips.

That face she wanted to see between her legs.

Another shudder whirled about her spine, this time it leapt down her limbs as well, so she rubbed her arms to chase it away.

That music though…she wanted to listen to it without disturbing it.

The passion…the rapture…the heart in it.

She hadn’t heard music like this in a while.

Each note was pressing past her frock, through her skin, and into her chest. Like a needle pulling thread in and out of fabric, the notes were weaving a pattern onto her heart.

She couldn’t see the image yet, and the needle itself, poking into her, should be painful, yet…

she could sense its mission. Its reward.

And in that moment, a tear pricked her eye.

Life was full of events that were being strung along a thread, poked into her life, creating something beautiful if she let the needle finish the picture. And she felt her youth—her youth! despite being a widow nearing her thirties—and she realized all the life she had left to live.

Hugo was gone. Her love—the love of her life—was gone, and he was never coming back.

But she had her memories. She had all the lessons he had taught her about love and passion and living life on a whim.

She didn’t regret any of it, and even knowing what she knew now, she would do it all over again, if only to have loved him.

But feeling the presence of her youth so deeply, and the many years ahead of her, she knew she wanted to live a life she was proud to call her own.

The music had prodded loose some crusted, dried up dirt that had buried too much of her heart with her lover, and those parts of her heart wanted to come alive again. Wanted to live. Love. Fail. Learn. Laugh. And do it all over again until she took her last breath.

That music.

Before she could think, she pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Shock and thrill simultaneously surged through her body, coursing along her veins with something flickering like lightning.

Lucas.

Her lungs were desperate for air. She took a deep inhale as she closed the door behind her and stared at him.

He had noticed her immediately, and though his fingers had tripped on a note or two, he continued playing while watching her.

What she hadn’t heard through the door, but could now feel all the way to the depths of her being was his soft voice singing along to the music.

She would have expected something grandiose. A thundering, booming, obnoxious singing voice. Instead, the man had a raspier quality to his sound, and it was rubbing her in all the right places.

She squeezed her legs together as they stared at each other and he continued singing. The lyrics were lost on her, but that voice…and that music…it was as if he was caressing her with his hands even though he was across the room from her.

When the song slowly faded to its end, they stayed staring at each other longer than what would have been normal.

This was danger. He was dangerous. He was the kind of man that could play with a woman’s body entangling it with her heart and then tossing it aside when he was done.

She wasn’t ready for that kind of callousness. Then again…she wasn’t sure she was ready for the plummeting depths of love either. He was a rake who loved to play with women and their bodies. And God, her body was aching to be played with.

She turned and placed her forehead on the door, knowing her next moves could change the trajectory of her life.

“Audra, wait.”

Perhaps it was something in the pleading tone of his request. Perhaps it was the music that was still squeezing every last emotion out of her heart. Perhaps it was the realization that she wanted to be fearless and have more fun in her life.

Regardless of the reason, Audra pressed her forehead hard into the door, and then quickly reached up and locked it.

Then she turned and walked over to him with as casual a smile on her face as she could manage.

“Lucas, I didn’t know you played.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“True. More that I don’t know than I do.”

“Perhaps we can work on tipping the scales?”

“Perhaps,” she conceded.

“What would you like to know?”

“Hard to say,” she tapped her chin playfully, “when I don’t know what I don’t know.”

He chuckled. “True. Perhaps you should tell me what you do know, and then I can fill in some blanks.” His smile was warm as he sat at the pianoforte watching her.

She could have sat anywhere. There were plenty of chairs to choose from, but instead of doing that, she eyed him and the bench at which he sat until he moved over slightly to make room for her.

“Shall we play a duet while we talk?”

“I should like that very much.” And she sat down beside him.

So close to him. It was perhaps the closest she had been to a man, other than dancing, in the last several years.

Her heart gasped at the nearness, and her leg trembled for a half second before she calmed her nerves.

It took a little more coaxing to convince her fingertips to stop sweating if playing the piano was going to be a possibility, but with a subtle clap and pat on her skirts, she was ready to play.

They started with a simple variation of one of Beethoven’s arrangements. After a couple of fumbles and a graze of his fingers over hers, they were smiling at each other as they made their way through the music. They shared a small laugh at the end, sensing their accomplishment.

“So,” he rested his hands on his lap and turned slightly toward her, “what do you know about me?”

“I know a little bit about your childhood.” She felt a little uneasy blurting out everything she knew, considering how sensitive the topic could be. Thankfully he supplied an out for her discomfit.

“So you know I was orphaned?”

“Yes. I’m sorry about that.”

“Yes. As was I. It happened so long ago though, I hardly think about it anymore.”

His fingers lifted as if to start playing another song, but Audra stole her chance. If there were ever to be a moment for her to make a move to discover if the man had layers, this was it. She placed her finger gently atop his and settled them back on his lap.

“Still. It would be all right if you felt melancholy when you thought of them.”

His body stiffened, and she wondered if she had overstepped. But then vulnerability flashed across his eyes, and she took another chance. Another step.

“It’s all right for you to think about them. Whenever you want. Even if it brings sorrow.” She studied her lap for a second before continuing. “Sorrow is part of life. And so is joy.”

“I prefer to focus on the joy.” His tone was as nonchalant as his eyes were intense. Almost as though he were challenging her to delve deeper into him. So she did.

“Why do you think that is?”

Indecision skittered across his face as she held her breath awaiting his answer.

He leaned slightly back. “It’s easier. Less complicated.”

“What do you mean?”

“I would choose sex over sorrow every time.”

And though she didn’t think Lucas was the type to provoke a person merely for the pleasure of seeing them squirm, that statement was very intentional. He was waiting to see her reaction.

So she chose to be as real with him as he was being with her.

“Sometimes…the best sex brings the most sorrow.”