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260 pages, Paperback
First published October 14, 2019
HOW TO CAPTURE A DUKE
A Raven Club Novel
Copyright © 2019 by Tina Gabrielle
“I don’t want my drunken duchess to cause a scene in a casino,” Tristan said.
Olivia felt her temper rise. “Your duchess!” she screeched. “You do not want a duchess.”
He leaned forward, his face inches from hers. “Now that I have one, I’ve decided to keep her.”
“Keep me? What on earth does that mean?”
“It means I expect my wife to behave like a lady, not a tavern doxy.”
He caught her hand before it made contact with his cheek. His dark gaze narrowed. “I suppose I deserve your outrage, but do not seek to strike me again.”
Perhaps if the world didn’t spin, Olivia would be afraid. But she had never feared physical harm from him. Other things, yes, but not physical harm.
She licked suddenly dry lips. His gaze lowered to her mouth, and she felt as if he’d touched her there, his stare had turned so heated. The air shifted in the carriage, like a storm that blew away. She was left with a heightened awareness of lightning about to strike. She felt warm all over, as if he’d hauled her against his chest. She should be furious. What was wrong with her?
“You drive me mad.” He released her wrist but didn’t move, and neither did she. They stayed suspended in their seats, inches apart, eyes connecting.
“Why do you care? If you refuse to consummate our marriage, am I to stay untouched forever?”
“No,” he said, his voice rough. “You are young and lovely and should experience passion.”
It must be the whisky that was making her bold, but she didn’t care. “Do you prefer I seek a lover, then?”
“No. The thought of you with another does not sit well with me.”
Olivia’s pulse leaped. Oh. She’d never expected him to say such things. Never expected him to make such an admission. “Why?”
“It’s my right to bed you and your right to be with me. For me to make love to my wife. To make you cry out with passion.”
Oh my.
She could get lost in the longing in his eyes. For a brief moment, she imagined things had been different between them. He wasn’t a duke, they weren’t forced to marry, and their pasts had no consequence. They were simply two strangers ensconced in the intimacy of a carriage.
“I’d start here.” Tristan reached for her hand and drew back her glove to place a kiss on the pulse point of her wrist. She stifled a gasp at his gentleness and the brush of his lips on the sensitive spot. Then, slowly, he peeled off her glove and kissed the center of her palm.
She watched the top of his head, and she longed to bury her fingers in the dark locks, to see if they were as soft as they appeared. Then he lifted his head and met her eyes. He was close, so close, and she wanted to kiss him so badly she ached.
“And then?” she asked.
“Then I’d kiss your lips.”


