the lives he shattered.
Anger stabbed Alicia, but she blunted it with the armor of reason. She must keep a calm, clear head. She must strike a hard bargain.
And if she failed? No. She would not allow herself to consider the possibility. The consequences were too dreadful.
As she paced the office, an alabaster statue on the marble mantelpiece caught her gaze. Slightly larger than her hand, the carving depicted a man and a woman locked in carnal embrace.
They were naked.
Alicia averted her eyes. But only for a moment. Curiosity proving stronger than prudery, she took the heavy piece into her hands. In the light of the fire, the sculpture seemed to glow with life. The man sat on a rock with the woman straddling him. The juncture of her opened legs pressed against his lower region. Her head was arched back as he nuzzled her breasts, and happiness lit her fine features.
The celebration of lust appalled Alicia. She told herself to put the statue back in its niche. Instead, she clung to it in morbid fascination, her wayward mind projecting her into the arms of a lover. Drake Wilder’s arms.
How could she do this with a stranger?
Sometimes, late at night and alone in bed, she would picture herself lying with an imaginary husband, his hands moving gently over her nightdress. She could almost feel the warmth of his body pressed to hers.…
How innocent was fantasy compared to stark reality. Never had she dreamed the act was accomplished without a stitch of clothing. That she would be expected to do more than lie on her back and allow him liberties. That she would have to behave like this with the scoundrel who had pushed her family to the brink of ruin—
“Shocking, isn’t it?”
The deep male voice sliced through her trance. She spun around, her gaze scouring the shadows. A door in the far corner stood ajar, and a man loomed there, his hand braced on the gilded panel. He had entered silently, stealthily. His black hair and swarthy coloring caused him to blend into the gloom. He wore the dark tailored coat and white cravat of a gentleman, yet there was something uncivilized about his tall, muscular form. Something that raised the fine hairs on her skin.
How long had he been watching her?
“That piece is rather old and priceless,” he went on. “It’s attributed to an apprentice of Michelangelo’s. But feel free to fondle it.”
Alicia realized she still clutched the indecent statue to her bosom. With unhurried hauteur, she set it back on the mantelpiece. “Do you always spy on your guests?”
“Only the female variety.”
“How very reassuring.”
His low chuckle disturbed the air. He watched her from beneath level black brows, taking his time studying her, his appraisal blatantly masculine. “You must be Lady Alicia Pemberton.”
“And you must be Mr. Drake Wilder.”
He inclined his head with the arrogance of a king, and she clenched her teeth to keep from raging at him. It wasn’t like her to speak sharply to a stranger. Especially one whose good favor she so desperately required.
Drake Wilder was bastard born, a cardsharp who had risen from the seething darkness of London’s underworld to become the richest, most notorious rogue in all of England. He had an aura of aggressive confidence, a face that showed hard lines of experience. He made her nervous, and she had never before been nervous around any man.
Strolling closer, he settled himself on the edge of the desk. He scooped up the dice and idly shook them, the ivory cubes rattling in his palm. All the while he kept his gaze on her. His eyes were a deep midnight-blue, riveting in their intensity. His scrutiny made Alicia uncomfortably aware of how vulnerable she was, alone with him in his dominion.
“Please sit down,” he said, waving his hand with lazy grace. “I’m surprised a lady would venture here without a chaperone.”
Unwilling to concede any advantage, Alicia remained standing. “You shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve come to discuss my brother’s debt.”
“So. The Earl of Brockway would send a woman to plead on his behalf.”
“Gerald doesn’t know I’m here.” In truth, her hotheaded brother would be livid. But she was acting for his benefit. And first, she must pursue the faint hope of finding an honorable solution.
Please, God, help me to convince this man.
She laced her gloved fingers together. “Mr. Wilder, perhaps you don’t realize my brother is only eighteen. As he has not yet reached his majority, he should never have been permitted to gamble at this