The princess deception, p.18
The Princess Deception, page 18
“Duke?” Her name was accompanied by the light brush of Viola’s fingers across her knuckles.
Duke felt herself blush. “I’m sorry. The menu distracted me.” It was a poor excuse, since she had clearly been staring at Viola’s torso, but she pushed on. “Would you mind repeating what I missed?”
“I asked whether you trust me.”
The unexpected intimacy of the question rendered Duke incapable of an immediate reply.
Did she trust Viola? All she could think was that Viola shouldn’t be so trusting of her. Hoping the melancholy thought was not reflected in her face, she let the menu fall to the table top. The question held an edge of flirtation, and she could work with that.
“You’ve put me in an impossible position.”
“Oh? How so?”
There was a hint of coyness to the question that gave Duke a welcome boost of confidence. “We still don’t know each other very well. If I say ‘yes,’ I’ll seem easy. But if I say ‘no,’ I might offend you.”
“You’re right. Forgive me, and allow me to be more specific: do you trust me to order your drink?”
“Yes,” Duke said, warmed by the smile that curved Viola’s lips before she mastered her expression into something more masculine. That reaction made her want more. What would happen if she dialed up the intensity of her flirtation? “I’m happy to put myself in your hands.”
Duke watched the effects of her deliberately inflammatory words with satisfaction. Viola’s gaze sharpened, her eyes narrowed, and her fingers twitched restlessly against the tablecloth. When she swallowed hard before finally speaking, Duke knew her instincts had been right: in sensual matters, Viola enjoyed taking control. Duke had just set herself up as eager and willing to follow Viola’s lead, and that had clearly pushed her buttons. It seemed to be all she could do to collect her wits right now.
“Good,” Viola said hoarsely. She turned to flag down a member of the staff. There were, Duke noticed, two hovering just out of earshot. Viola conversed briefly with the woman in Dutch.
“What did you choose?” Duke asked when she had left.
“I’m not going to tell you.”
“Not even a hint?”
“I want it to be a surprise.”
“Why?”
“Why not?” Viola arched one brow. “You said you trusted me to order your drink. Start trusting. In fact, close your eyes.”
The note of command in Viola’s voice made Duke want to obey, but she refused to be a pushover. “You’re not even going to let me see the beer?”
“Close. Your. Eyes.”
Duke was usually adept at snappy comebacks, but the air of challenge in Viola’s expression ratcheted up her desire, leaving her mouth dry and her wits scattered. She did as she was told. As the world went dark, her other senses sharpened. The harsh cry of a seagull pierced the air, and beneath it, she heard the soft lapping of the bay against the pylons below, like the drones of a bagpipe. The delicate aroma of the tulips on the table top was a balm to her taut nerves, and she inhaled deeply to steady them.
When a light, spicy cologne sliced through the scent, she struggled not to open her eyes. That was Viola’s scent—or rather, Sebastian’s. If Viola was close enough for Duke to detect it, that meant she was very close indeed.
Brisk footsteps approached. Viola murmured something Duke didn’t understand, and then she felt the table’s surface vibrate slightly in concert with a light clinking sound. Had the waitress returned with her drink? How ridiculous must she look? As embarrassment flooded her, she felt her color rise. Still, the shame didn’t override her desire to follow Viola’s instructions.
“Your drink has arrived,” Viola said into the silence. “I’ll hold it up to your mouth so you can take a sip. Then, you may open your eyes.”
“How thoughtful of you,” Duke said, injecting as much sarcasm as she could into the words, lest she betray just how much Viola’s assertiveness was affecting her.
“You’re enjoying this as much as I am,” Viola said.
Duke kept her mouth shut until she felt the cool edge of the glass against her skin. She parted her lips, but for several heartbeats, nothing happened. Was Viola teasing her? But just as Duke had made up her mind to pull back, liquid trickled across her tongue. The beer was pleasantly hoppy without being bitter, and notes of mango and grapefruit materialized mid-taste.
She didn’t open her eyes right away—let Viola be the one to wait, for once—but when she did, the sight that greeted her was highly gratifying. Viola was staring at her intently, as though mesmerized by some kind of magic spell. No one had ever looked at Duke that way in all her life, and she didn’t want the moment to end.
But it did. A shutter fell over Viola’s expression and she gently returned the glass to the table. “What do you think?”
“I like it,” Duke said, referring to so much more than the beer. “Very much.”
“I’m glad.” Viola sipped from her own glass and turned to look at the harbor.
Her profile seemed more angular with the addition of the cap. Duke pictured how she would look with hair that fell to her shoulders, as Viola had worn it in that video she’d watched on the train. A fresh surge of arousal washed over her, and she drank deeply as Viola turned away from the water, lest her face betray her.
“Did you enjoy Zonde?” Viola’s tone was cooler than it had been. She was trying to steer them back onto more stable ground. It was the smartest course to take, but Duke found she wanted nothing to do with it. And then guilt consumed her, because if she was tired of pretending, how exhausted must Viola be?
She played along. They spoke about the club and the gala for a while, but Viola said nothing noteworthy or surprising. She made no reference at all to what Toby had referred to as the “real” after-party, and Duke couldn’t think of a way to bring it up that wouldn’t seem suspicious.
Viola ordered another round. As they conversed, Duke felt herself growing more comfortable with her, despite the duplicity on both sides of their equation. A part of that sense of ease might, of course, derive from the effects of the beer—it was strong, and her tolerance was still low after years of abstaining. Yet another sacrifice offered to the capricious soccer gods. Had it all been worthwhile? She held her breath at the thought, expecting the customary spike of pain, but it failed to materialize. Maybe that was because without her soccer career, Eveline would never have recognized her, and she wouldn’t be sitting here with Viola right now.
Over time, a welcome lassitude settled over Duke’s body like a blanket, and she felt the tension in her neck begin to ease. The harbor below was dotted with moored sailboats, and she found herself captivated by the view. The dance of the sunlight on the water looked the way bells sounded, crystalline and bright. Their dialogue had lapsed, but not uncomfortably. The silence was warm and full of promise.
“You have a beautiful smile,” Viola said, surprising Duke from her reverie. It was a rather bold thing for a woman impersonating her brother to say to another woman, and the flush creeping up Viola’s neck gave the impression that the words had been unpremeditated.
Duke was torn between an answer that would put them back on safer ground and one that would encourage flirtation, but the moment their eyes met, all coherent thought left her head. Viola was smiling too—a small, soft smile that somehow accentuated her femininity. Once again, Duke ached to tell her she knew her secret. She took a long sip, buying herself a few seconds to regain her self-control.
“Thank you.” It was a relatively safe response—an acknowledgement of the compliment, and perhaps a tacit encouragement, but no more.
“As I was on my way here,” Viola said, “I realized that most of our conversations have been about me and my life. I want to know more about you.”
The pleasure Duke felt at this admission somehow eclipsed her self-consciousness. More alert now, she traced a curling pattern in the condensation on her glass and tried for nonchalance.
“What would you like to know?”
Viola smiled faintly. “We skipped over the basics. Where are you from? What is your family like?”
A gnawing twinge of anxiety drove away Duke’s pleasure at Viola’s interest. Should she play it safe by glossing over the personal details, or encourage Viola’s trust by being honest? Last week, she had rejected the idea of coming out, but in this moment, every instinct was prompting her to tell the full story.
“I was born and raised in a small town in western Texas,” Duke said, starting with the safe details even as a detached part of her continued to strategize. “The economy is built around drilling oil and raising cattle, and my father owns the local feed store. I’m the youngest of five. The expectation in my family has always been that after high school—secondary school, I think you’d call it—my brothers would help my father with the store, and my sisters and I would marry and start families of our own. But my aptitude for soccer—football, sorry—paved a road to a different kind of life.”
Viola’s gaze was hypnotic, and the clear interest she conveyed inspired Duke to throw caution to the winds. “I’ve been estranged from them for almost a year. Once it became clear that I wouldn’t be able to play professionally anymore, they expected me to return home and live the life football had interrupted: marry a local boy, start a family, coach a few local teams.” Duke took another sip as she prepared for the psychological impact of reliving the stress of the ensuing conflict. “When I came out to them and revealed my previous relationship with a teammate, they reacted…badly.”
Only when Viola reached across the table to touch her forearm did Duke realize her fingers were clenched in a tight fist and her shoulders were taut with strain.
“I remember how anxious my sister was when she came out to our family.” Viola’s voice was low and soft. “To have your own parents turn on you in that way must have been so difficult.”
She didn’t hesitate at all when speaking of herself in the third person. Duke nodded in reply, her admiration for Viola’s performance intertwining with the very real comfort offered by her words. The swirl of emotion was confusing. So distracted was she by her own thoughts that she didn’t notice Viola reaching out until one fingertip stroked the skin between her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Viola said quietly. “I didn’t mean to put you in a position to have to tell that story.”
Desire rose in Duke at the intensity of Viola’s gaze, and she struggled not to look away. “I chose to tell it,” she managed.
“True.”
Duke watched Viola’s lips purse slightly as she formed the word. She wondered whether they were as soft as they looked. She wondered how Viola would kiss and whether she would take the lead and how her tongue would—
At that moment, the tongue in question darted out to moisten her lips. A sharp ache manifested between Duke’s thighs, and her heart stuttered furiously. The adrenaline surge pushed back against her arousal, creating the space for rational thought. What was happening here? They were both grown adults who knew where this kind of flirtation could lead, and Viola wouldn’t dare attempt to maintain her disguise in the bedroom—would she? Even the remote possibility was a strangely alluring prospect, but Duke couldn’t imagine Viola would take that risk. Why was she letting it go on for so long? Was she a merciless tease, or could she not help herself?
“What is it?” Viola asked. “You’re looking at me oddly.”
“I—it’s nothing. I’m sorry.” Flustered and tongue-tied, Duke embraced the distraction offered by a flash of color in the harbor. When, moments later, a squadron of bright sails came into view, she pointed. “What is that?”
“A regatta,” Viola said after a moment. “Do you sail?”
Duke shook her head, forcing herself to keep her attention on the race.
“I do. Perhaps you’d like to join me some time?”
Duke had to look at her then, and she knew she wasn’t imagining the spark that flared between them. “All right,” she said, marveling that her voice was steady when the rest of her was trembling.
Viola leaned closer. Her eyes were very dark, and they asserted a magnetism Duke felt helpless to resist.
“You said you came out to your parents, but you never mentioned how you identify. Are you interested in men as well as women?”
In a far off part of her mind, panic struck like chain lightning, jagged and continuous. This was it—this was the moment she had dreaded. And yet, the storm remained distant—held at bay, she realized, by the field of energy that crackled between them. Should she lie?
No. She was so tired of lying, if only by omission. She saw the swirling attraction in Viola’s eyes and made her confession.
“I’m attracted to you.”
Surprise and delight surfaced in Viola’s shifting expression until she wrestled her face under control. Empowered by what she had seen, Duke shifted the position of her hand until she could intertwine their fingers again. It felt even better than the last time.
“I want to kiss you,” Viola said, the rough edge to her voice betraying her desire.
It would have been a simple matter for Duke to close the space between them, but she didn’t want to initiate. She wanted to surrender to Viola, and she couldn’t—not really—until the air was clean between them.
“I want you to kiss me. But—”
“We’ve had a few drinks,” Viola finished for her. When she released her hand, Duke had to clamp her mouth shut to keep from betraying her dismay. Viola offered a slight smile. “The first time should be sober.”
“Yes,” Duke managed after the sharp apex of her disappointment had faded. Sobriety was, she thought, probably more important to Viola than ever.
In a decisive motion perfectly in keeping with her disguise, Viola threw back the remainder of her beer in three long swallows.
“Once the festival is over, I’ll join my father at a Northern European trade summit in Oslo,” she said. “I return to Brussels next Tuesday night. Will you be there?”
“Yes,” Duke said, trying to hide her dismay at the prospect of waiting so long for another time when they could be alone.
“Would you like to join me for dinner?” Viola spoke lightly, but the underlying edge to her words convinced Duke that Viola cared deeply about her response.
“I’d love to.”
“I’ll make a reservation and confirm by text.” Viola folded her napkin and put it on the table. “Any allergies or dislikes?”
“No allergies,” Duke said, entranced by the competent and efficient movement of Viola’s hands. She wanted those fingers inside her. Now. She coughed and cleared her throat. “I’m a fairly adventurous eater. I’m sure I’ll enjoy whatever you choose.”
“You’re putting yourself in my hands again, then?” Viola’s tone was light, but the intensity of her gaze revealed how much she cared about Duke’s answer.
“Yes.” Duke didn’t look away. Viola’s eyes held a hint of gold today. Duke wanted to fall into them as Viola loomed above her, stroking deep—
When her reason caught up with the fantasy, Duke felt her cheeks go hot. She looked away.
“Don’t,” Viola said, and then her fingers touched Duke’s jaw. Gently but firmly, she applied pressure until Duke had to meet her eyes again. “Tell me what you were thinking.”
As much as Duke wanted to surrender, she needed to assert her own independence. “Maybe when we have dinner.”
Viola laughed, the sound low and full of promise. When she stroked her thumb across Duke’s mouth, Duke reacted instinctually, parting her lips and swirling her tongue against the pad. From Viola’s quick intake of breath, she hadn’t been expecting that. Good.
“You’re pushing my self-control to its limits,” Viola said. “It’s time for me to go.”
The frank admission ratcheted up Duke’s arousal even further. “Should I apologize?”
“No. But you should let me offer you a ride to your hotel.”
When Duke stood, she did feel a bit wobbly. It probably had more to do with adrenaline than alcohol, but she wasn’t about to reject Viola’s chivalric gesture. “All right.”
Viola let Duke precede her into the car, then slid in beside her, leaving the middle seat empty. Maybe it was her altered brain, but Duke felt as though the space between them ached with shared desire. She fussed with the strap on her purse for a moment as a thread of guilt asserted itself into the tangled mess that was her emotional state. Nothing about this situation was simple. Both she and Viola were trying to fool the other. Even so, Duke couldn’t escape the nagging feeling that she was taking terrible advantage of Viola.
“Are you all right?” Viola asked, frowning. “Do you feel sick?”
“No.” Despite the guilt, Duke wanted so badly to touch her. “It’s proving more difficult than I expected not to kiss you.”
Viola raised her hand as though to reach toward Duke, then let it fall again. When she murmured something to herself in French, Duke didn’t ask for a translation. Better she not know. Viola turned her attention to the window, but Duke couldn’t look away. Whether she wore feminine or masculine clothing, she was beautiful. And yet, her beauty paled in comparison to the brightness of her courage and strength.
That’s when it came to her. She couldn’t do this. She could not break this story. She wouldn’t.
What good could it possibly do? Wherever Sebastian was now, he was at the beginning of a long and difficult road to recovery. Duke wanted to help Viola keep him safe, not throw him and her to the metaphorical wolves. It was such an obvious and easy decision, in the end. How had she not come to it sooner?
