On a Wild Night Read Free Page B

dismissed by the crowd she suspected harbored her future husband. But how to slide out of Connor’s trap?
    The answer was blindingly obvious. Letting her lips curve, she murmured, “How intriguing. Unfortunately, I have nothing I’d care to wager against such a valuable stake.”
    Turning away, she let her gaze meet those of the two blades who had started to approach. Blatantly considered them. They straightened.
    Connor growled, “Not even three hours of your time?”
    She swung back to face him. “Three hours?”
    â€œThree hours, to be spent by my side”—Connor waved magnanimously—“in whatever surroundings you choose.” The last phrase was delivered with an intense leer.
    He was laughing at her. If she ran away, everyone would laugh at her.
    She’d laugh derisively at herself.
    Amanda lifted her chin. “My time is exceedingly valuable.”
    Connor’s lip curled. “You don’t say?”
    â€œBut I daresay this mare of yours is valuable, too.” Her heart was thumping. She smiled condescendingly. “Well, she must be if Demon was interested.” She brightened. “If I win, I’ll give her to him.”
    He’d wring her neck.
    Reggie’s groan was audible. Amanda smiled into Connor’s pale eyes. “A rubber of whist, I believe you said?”
    She’d finally stepped over the line into real danger. Even as she said the words, even as she registered the hardening in Connor’s eyes, Amanda felt a thrill beyond anything she’d ever known. Anticipation laced with dread flowed through her; exhilaration drove her. “Your partner?” She looked inquiringly at Connor.
    Expressionless, he waved back into the gloom. “Meredith.”
    A thin gentleman rose from an armchair and stiffly bowed.
    â€œHe says little but has an excellent head for cards.” Connor’s gaze traveled to Reggie. “And who will partner you, Miss Cynster? Carmarthen, here?”
    â€œNo.” Reggie’s tone declared he’d drawn a line and would not be tempted over it. He shook Amanda’s arm. “This is madness! Come away now! What do you care what such hellions think of you?”
    She did care—therein lay the rub. She couldn’t explain it, yet she couldn’t imagine any of her cousins walking away from Connor’s thinly veiled insults. Not before they’d exacted retribution.
    His Arab mare sounded like just the right amount of retribution. And if she lost, she’d take great delight in stipulating just where she would spend her three hours at his side. Retribution indeed. That would teach him to make game of Cynster ladies, however young.
    But first she had to find a partner, preferably one who would help her win. She didn’t waste a second persuading Reggie—he could barely remember the suits. Smiling reassuringly, trying to ease his concern, she turned to survey the tables at which all activity had ceased.
    There had to be some gentleman willing to come to her aid . . .
    Her heart plummeted. There was no lighthearted interest, none of the game-to-be-part-of-any-lark expressions she’d expected to see. Calculation, raw and undisguised, filled every man’s eyes. The equation they were weighing was easy to grasp: How much would she give to be rescued from Connor?
    One glance was enough. To them she was a succulent, innocent pigeon ripe for a plucking. Exhilaration deserted her; a deadening, sinking feeling dragged at her.
    Given the precise words of their wager, she was confident she had Connor’s measure, but if, in order to satisfy her pride, she took one of these men as her partner, where would that leave her at the end of the game?
    Triumphant regardless of the outcome, but with another, possibly more dangerous debt hanging over her head.
    She met eye after eye; her heart sank to her slippers. Surely there was one gentleman honorable enough to partner her