I attempt a trespass.’
He felt her fingers tremble in his before she freed herself and stepped away from him. She danced most gracefully.
‘Kit is very dear to me,’ she said, when eventually they came back together.
‘I see.’
‘I doubt it.’ Once again that silver gaze pierced him. ‘He is a friend. Closer than a friend—but that is all.’
An old lover, Marcus thought, with a vicious rush of envy. That would explain why they looked so comfortable together, yet had none of the heat of sensuality between them. Old passions had burned themselves out, leaving only the flame of friendship. It made him jealous to think of their past relationship, yet it also implied that there might be a vacancy…
‘And is there anyone else?’ Foolish question, when she probably had a dozen admirers paying for her favours! Yet her cool gaze searched his face and she answered quietly.
‘I do not care to discuss such matters here, my lord.’
Marcus allowed his gaze to hold hers for several long seconds. ‘Then may we discuss it in private? I confess that would suit me very well…’
He felt that he might reasonably have expected some encouragement at this point, even if it was only a smile, but Beth gave his suggestion thoughtful consideration, and then inclined her head.
‘Very well. There is a study off the hallway—’
‘I know it.’
She nodded again. The dance was finishing anyway, but no one paid any attention as she slipped from the line of dancers and went out into the entrance hall. Marcus waited a few moments before following her, pausing to see if he was observed. It seemed that everyone was too preoccupied with their own amours to be concerned about his.
He picked his way through the entwined couples and crossed the checkerboard black and white tiles of the hall. He vaguely remembered that the study was the third door on the left and he was just in time to catch the faintest swish of material as Beth whisked through the door, leaving it ajar for him.
Marcus smiled to himself. The situation was most promising and, despite his cynicism, he had to admit that there was something intriguing about the lady’s air of aloof mystery. Perhaps it was all assumed simply to whet jaded appetites, but it was working on him and he was more world-weary than most. He quickened his step, went into the study and closed the door behind him.
It was a small room with a mahogany card table and chairs in the middle and matching mahogany bookcases about the walls. Long amber curtains shut out the night and the only light came from one lamp, standing on a side table.
Beth was standing beside the window. She had taken the dice from their box on the table and was tossing them lightly in one hand. She did not look up when Marcus came in and for a moment he thought he sensed something tense and wary in her stance, though the impression was fleeting.
He took a step forward. ‘Would you care to indulge in a game of chance, sweetheart?’ he asked.
She looked at him then, a stare as straight and protracted as the one she had first given him in the ballroom. Marcus was amused. He knew of few men and even fewer women who were so direct. Her eyes were a shadowed silver behind the mask, her gaze as deliberate and fearless as a cat.
‘If you are sure that you wish to play, my lord.’
They were talking in double entendres now and Marcus appreciated her quick wit. It made the pursuit even more enjoyable. He wondered if she knew who he was, even though he had given only his name and not his title. It was entirely possible. She had focused on him from the first and he did not flatter himself that it was simply because she was attracted to him. She might well consider that his status and physical attributes outweighed a lack of fortune. And fortune was relative anyway. He could pay her well enough.
He kept his eyes on her face and smiled slowly. ‘I’m sure. Which game do you prefer?’
The lady smiled too, the dimple quivering again at the corner of her deliciously curved mouth. Marcus suddenly wished he could cut to the chase and simply kiss her. It was a high-risk strategy and might backfire, but it was very tempting. He took a step closer. She took one back.
‘Hazard might be appropriate,’ she said coolly, tossing the dice from one hand to the other. ‘One throw of the dice. The winner takes all.’
Marcus hesitated. It was clear from her words that she would be his prize if he won and he considered it very sporting of her to offer her services for free. The reckoning would come later, of course, if they suited each other: the villa, the carriage, the jewels…
But if she won the wager…
‘I like your terms, but first I need to know what you want from me if I lose,’ he drawled. ‘I do not have a fortune to offer. What would you settle for, sweetheart?’
He waited confidently for her to name her price. A necklace of diamonds, perhaps, to outclass the exquisite but tasteful grey pearls already around her neck.
She moved closer until he could smell her perfume. It was a subtle mix of jasmine and rose petals, warm as the sun on the skin, and it sent his senses into even more of a spin. Damn it, whatever the price, it had to be worth it.
‘I don’t want a fortune,’ she said sweetly, ‘just a small part of your patrimony. I want Fairhaven Island.’
Marcus stared. It comprehensively answered the question of whether or not she knew who he was, but it seemed an extraordinary suggestion. Fairhaven fell in the part of his estate that he had not yet had time to visit, but as far as he was concerned, it was a storm-swept isle in the middle of the Bristol Channel that supported a few people, a flock of sheep and nothing else. There was no earthly reason he could see why it should appeal to a courtesan. It was worth absolutely nothing at all.
Part of his mind prompted him to ask a few questions and get to the bottom of the mystery. The other part, tantalised by her perfume, suggested that there was no need to cavil and he was bound to win the bet anyway. Even if he lost he was fairly certain that he could persuade her to humour him. The time for a discussion on land and property was not now, when he wanted to sweep her into his arms, but later and best left to the lawyers.
‘Very well,’ he said, adding slowly, ‘Do you always honour your bets?’
She looked away for the first time. ‘I do not usually gamble, my lord. Do you honour yours?’
Marcus laughed. No man would have dared ask him that question but, after all, he had questioned her integrity first. And she still had not really answered him.
‘I never renege,’ he said. He took her hand in his and felt her tremble slightly. Her skin was very soft; he turned the hand over and pressed a kiss on the palm. ‘But you did not answer my question.’
There was a flash of something in her eyes that almost looked like fear but it was gone as swiftly as it had come. She raised her chin.
‘I will pay my debt, my lord—if I lose.’
Marcus nodded. He drew her closer until one of her palms was resting against his chest.
‘And
