The Captain's Wicked Wager Read Free Page A

herself another glass of champagne, drinking it quickly down.
    Ewan returned clad in an exotic banyan of Chinese silk tied loosely around the waist. As he sat down on the chair beside her, she eyed him cautiously. A long muscular leg emerged from the folds. A well-shaped calf. A glimpse of thigh. He was clearly quite naked underneath his robe. Isabella dragged her eyes upwards. A sprinkling of hair at his throat, a darker copper than that on his head. A strong neck. His hair, unfashionably untied, reached his shoulders. It suited him. Like a mane. She tilted back her glass, surprised to find it empty.
    Long fingers relieved her of it. “You have a debt of honour to pay. I would have you sober enough todeliver it properly.”
    Beneath the cool tones his rich Scottish timbre served to threaten and entice at the same time. She glared defiantly at him. She was his prey, but she would not be his victim. “I am perfectly aware of my obligations sir. You have me at your disposal.”
    Ewan reached out to clasp her hand. Long fingers. Pink nails. Pulse fluttering visibly on her wrist. He kissed it, his tongue touching her flesh. Inhaled the light flowery scent there, feeling his own pulse pick up a beat in response. “Not at my disposal, Belle. At my command.”
    For a fleeting moment he thought he detected fear in her expression, then it was gone. “And what would you command me do,” she asked somewhat breathlessly, rising to the challenge as he had known she would.
    “Undress for me. But do it slowly, I want to enjoy the spectacle.”
    Isabella stared in consternation.
    “You cannot deny me. I won, remember.”
    That mocking smile of his riled her. So confident he was. Toying with her, she could see that now. It was a game. She could not allow herself to be defeated by her inhibitions. She would not allow it!
    Ewan sprawled back on the chair. The sash on his banyan had loosened. Isabella’s eyes widened as she took in the rapidly hardening length of him nudging against the embroidered silk. He saw her looking. She must not turn away. She tried instead to imagine how it would feel inside her, but could not. A frisson ofalmost-fear surged through her.
    Slowly, she started to disrobe, embarrassed and self-conscious as she tugged at the lacing behind her dress. The silk gown spilled at her feet, leaving her in her shoes and underclothes. Blushing, she snatched a look at him. Broad shoulders, a muscled torso tapering down to where the belt tied, then up to his unblinking gaze. She heard his breathing, quicker surely than before?
    Relief washed over her. He liked what he saw— was anxious to see more. Slow, she should slow down . Postpone his pleasure. Delay her own unveiling. Turn it into a performance, a contest.
    Belle untied her petticoats and bustle, trying to make a drama of each button and string, stretching and bending to conceal and reveal. Embarrassment dissolved as she gave rein to her instincts, her confidence growing as she watched the effect on her audience through her lashes. Shocking. Her behaviour was outrageous, yet gratifyingly effective.
    She stood before him in her stays and chemise, the ribbons of her stockings fluttering against her knees. When he reached for her she stepped back, and knew it for a turning point. She had learned how to tease. Pain and pleasure intermingled. She saw it in his eyes. Felt it take a tentative hold on herself. Ewan was not the only one enjoying her show.
    Slowly, she twirled for him, like a dancer on the stage. Posing now as if for a portrait to show off the line of her throat, the curve of her spine, conscious of her breasts rising and falling in the confines of her stays. Discarding her inhibitions with her clothing. A transforming. She was not Isabella stripped. She wasBelle revealed.
    In front of her Ewan no longer smiled. His face was a mask, eyes golden slits of light, lids heavy. Belle’s glance flickered down to his manhood. She had never seen a man naked before. It was