Lady Allerton's Wager Read Free Page A

husky.
    The game. He had forgotten. Intent on a different game of his own devising, he had not been certain that she would persist in their wager. Still, he was quite willing to indulge her.
    ‘If you wish.’ Marcus shrugged. ‘All on the one throw.’ He gave her a slight bow. ‘I will concede you the honour of calling the main, madam.’
    Beth threw him one swift glance. ‘Then I call a nine.’
    She took the dice up and cast them on to the walnut table. Marcus watched them spin and settle on the polished wood. A five and a four. She really had the devil’s own luck. He could not believe it. He smiled a little. ‘Will you play for the best of three?’
    ‘Certainly not.’ She sounded breathless and as she turned into the light he saw the expression on her face. He had expected triumph or greed. What he saw was relief.
    ‘Fairhaven,’ she said, on a questioning note. ‘You will honour your bet, my lord?’
    Marcus did not reply. For the first time, doubt surfaced in his mind, faint but troubling. She had come close to him again; her skirt brushed against his thigh. Part of him responded to her proximity, but he clamped down hard on his desire and tried to concentrate.
    ‘Why do you want it?’ he asked.
    She laughed then and he saw the triumph that had been missing a moment before. ‘Your question comes a little late, my lord! Surely that is academic now.’ She took a step back and her silken skirts rustled. ‘My man of business will call on yours on the morrow. Goodnight, my lord!’
    She turned to go, but Marcus caught her arm in a tight grip and spun her round to face him. He tore the mask from her face with impatient fingers. Without it she was even more striking than he had supposed. Her face was a pure oval, the smoky eyes set far apart beneath flyaway black brows, the nose small and straight, the sultry mouth that was not smiling now. She was breathing very quickly and he could tell that she was afraid. And that she was not the courtesan she pretended to be. For some reason that took all the anger out of him.
    ‘One of us is in the wrong place, I believe,’ he said slowly.
    ‘It is I,’ she said simply. ‘Did you truly believe me a Cyprian, my lord?’
    Marcus started to laugh. He could not help himself. ‘Assuredly. Until I kissed you.’
    That gave him the advantage. He saw the colour come up into her face and she tried to free herself from his grip. He stood back, letting her go with exaggerated courtesy. No, indeed, this was no courtesan, but even so he still wanted her. He had no idea whom she was, but he intended to find out.
    ‘You will honour your bet?’ she asked again.
    Marcus grinned, folding his arms. ‘I will not.’
    He saw the fury come into her eyes and held her gaze steadfastly with his own.
    ‘I will make you do so!’ she said.
    ‘How?’ Marcus shifted slightly. ‘Are you telling me that you would have honoured yours had I won? If so, I would press you to play me for the best of three!’
    She blushed even harder at that but her mouth set in a stony line. ‘What I would have done is immaterial, my lord, since you lost. You claimed never to renege!’
    Marcus shrugged. ‘I lied.’
    ‘A liar and a cheat,’ Beth said, in a tone that dripped contempt. ‘I repeat, my man of business will call upon yours on the morrow, my lord, and will expect you to have ready the title to Fairhaven to hand over.’
    The study door closed behind her with a decided snap and Marcus heard the quick, angry tap of her footsteps receding across the marble hall. He picked the dice up casually in one hand and sat down in one of the chairs. A whimsical smile touched his lips. He could not believe that his judgement had been so faulty. To mistake a lady for a Cyprian, even giventhe circumstances…He had been thoroughly misled by his desire, like a youth in his salad days. Led by the nose—or some other part of his anatomy, perhaps. It had never happened to him before.
    He tossed the dice