The Problem with Seduction - By Emma Locke Page 0,27
a smile. “The alternative is your bed.”
He was a man. When she looked up at him from beneath long, dark lashes and said anything that put him in mind of a soft mattress, tangled sheets and her, he couldn’t help reacting. While he wasn’t a lust-crazed beast, he readily admitted she was one thoroughly desirable woman. What the hell had he been thinking to invite her in here?
He needed to do something before he began to think too hard on his intentions. He took up the chair in one hand and nudged the table with his boot until he had both beside the bed. Her skirts swished as she seated herself in the chair. There still seemed to be something missing. Thinking quickly, he called over his shoulder, “I’ll just be a moment,” and left the room. He took the stairs quickly and went to the clerk’s counter again. He requested a bottle of wine and two wineglasses from a skinny scrap of a girl who must be the innkeeper’s daughter. That accomplished, he returned to Elizabeth and squeezed himself between the table and the bed to perch on the edge of the mattress.
“Refreshments will be here in a trice. Now, what is your game, my dear?” He began to shuffle the deck of cards.
She didn’t hesitate. “Speculation.”
“Oh? But we have no fish.”
She pursed her lips. Then a mercenary gleam came into her eye. “We have no need of counters. I’m not likely to forget what’s owed me.”
She no doubt meant it as a joke, but the promise turned his stomach. While he enjoyed a harmless game of chance between friends, he detested formal gambling. He was careful not to let on how he felt about bookmaking, however, lest she probe him about it. “I’ll deal, then, and you may pretend to ante up.” He swiftly dealt three cards facedown to each of them. Then he indicated for Elizabeth to turn the trump card.
Jack of diamonds.
“Do you bid for it?” he asked.
“No.” She turned her top card faceup. Nine.
He was still winning, then. “You should have offered me a fish,” he teased.
She glanced at the empty place where her counters should have been. “I think not.” Then she turned up a king of spades. A quirk of her lips gave away her satisfaction.
His turn. He flipped his top card. Two. He wouldn’t get very far with that. He turned the next. King of diamonds. Much better. “I’ll buy your card,” he angled, feigning exaggerated indifference.
“You can’t afford it.” That gleam in her eye turned downright ruthless. “Ten counters.”
“You’re right. I can’t afford that.” He rested his hand on the bed and leaned onto it, then indicated for her to show her last card.
A four. She frowned.
He came forward again and grinned at her as he mimed scooping his imaginary winnings across the table. “Another round?”
She nodded slowly. “Yes, please.” But he had a feeling it was no longer just a silly game to her. Her competitive streak had been pricked.
He won three straight rounds, because he wasn’t one to lose out of sympathy. Though, even if he did like to think he owed his success to a bit of skill, he could admit he had an advantage. She was distracted tonight. He was not.
“You’ve played this before,” she mused as he dealt another six cards. The more rounds they played, the more cards were revealed. It was almost too easy to win now.
He wore a smug smile anyway. He liked the sport of card playing, even if he usually avoided gaming hells. “Most in England have, I think.”
“Not like you. I’d swear you’re counting cards, my lord.” Her hand rested languidly atop her card stack. She looked up at him with a slanted eyebrow.
He grinned. He liked that she thought him capable of card counting, even if he didn’t approve of such a skill. “Are you accusing me?”
A small smile crept across her lips. “I can’t think a man with your reputation for debt is any good at counting cards.”
His lips tightened. Now here was a subject he didn’t find at all amusing. “The rumors are exaggerated.”
Her eyebrow rose again. “You seemed willing enough to accept my money to pay it down. I assume the debt was real.”
“Yes, but not because I’m a gambler.” He instantly regretted his sharp elucidation, but she didn’t so much as blink.
They played another hand. She murmured when she bid, and he grunted in reply. The easiness was gone.