He narrowed his eyes. “You’re supposed to announce before you flip what you’re associating with each side.”
“My father taught me that I didn’t have to do it like that.”
“Not much of a gambler, your father.”
She shook her head. He never spoke of gambling. “A fortunate thing, as he gambled on Geoffrey seeing after my welfare. A rather unfortunate wager.”
Leaning over, he snatched up the coin and slipped it back into his pocket. “That remains to be seen. You stand to gain a great deal.”
“But at an unconscionable cost.”
“Still, you agree to the terms?”
As much as she didn’t want to, she nodded. She had decided her course, she would see it through.
Stepping forward, standing in front of her, he held out his hand. His large, long-fingered, ungloved hand. She must have somehow managed to swallow a bird because there was intense fluttering just behind her breastbone. “You said you wouldn’t bed me tonight.” Her voice sounded small, fearful. She hated it.
“I’m not. I’m merely going to help you to your feet.”
She placed her hand in his. Hers seemed so tiny, and when he closed his fingers around it, she was incredibly aware that he could easily break her with very little effort. She was surprised by the coarseness of his flesh. These were not the hands of a gentleman. He drew her up, then expertly moved her arm behind her back, somehow snagging her other wrist until both were held within his firm grasp. With his free hand, he cradled her face, stroked her cheek with his thumb.
“You will learn to do things as I like them done,” he said softly, in a voice that promised pleasures. His eyes captured and held hers, and she thought that even if he wasn’t holding her, she’d not have been able to break away. “I have particular needs. The first is that you are to never wrap your arms around me.”
“Why not?” she whispered.
“Because it’s what I require.” He lowered his lips to hers, and she realized that if he hadn’t manacled her wrists that her arms would have twined about him of their own accord, simply to ensure that she remained standing when her knees grew so weak.
His tongue toyed with her mouth, painting it, outlining it as though he wanted to be intimately familiar with it. Then he was urging her lips apart and delving into the depths of her mouth with an urgency that astounded her. He might not likeher,but it was becoming plain enough rather quickly that he was quite fond of her mouth. He explored every inch of it, every nook, every cranny, every hidden corner. When she dared to meet the thrust of his tongue with a thrust of her own, he groaned low and pressed her against his broad chest. Through the thin linen of his shirt and the maid’s well-worn nightly attire, she could feel the thudding of his heart, sense its increase in tempo.
When she tried to break free of his hold, his hand clamped harder on her wrists, just shy of causing pain. She relaxed her shoulders, relaxed her arms. Why couldn’t she hold him? She’d held him in the rain as he’d carried her home. Had she hurt him? Was she stronger than she thought? Had it been unpleasant?
She didn’t know what to make of his rule, his demand, and she wondered if he would have many. She suspected he would. She was agreeing to allow him to do whatever he wanted with her, and yet if his kiss were any indication of the pleasures she might find with him, she thought that perhaps he was right—it would not be such an awful trade.
The kiss deepened, grew hungrier. Her sighs were now mingling with his groans. She felt guilty for enjoying the way he played with her mouth. She should be ashamed, but perhaps she was more like her mother than she realized. Her mother had not required marriage in order to lay down with the earl. And here she was coming to understand that her regrets regarding this arrangement might not outweigh the benefits.
Breaking away, he stared down at her, his icy blue eyes not quite so icy, a heat there that astounded her.
“I think you’ll do rather nicely,” he said. Releasing his hold, he walked from the room before she could gather her wits about her to reply.
She sank back into the chair, brought her legs up, and wrapped her arms tightly around them. His comment left her empty. Suddenly her brother wasn’t the only one she wanted to have regrets regarding his treatment of her.
She wanted Rafe Easton to regret having taken her as a mistress instead of a wife.
Chapter 5
Kissing her had been a colossal error in judgment. Her lips were like silk. Her mouth, smoky with his Scotch, had tasted particularly inviting. Her sighs were as low and throaty as her voice. The sounds had sent desire shooting through him.
As a general rule he didn’t misjudge his actions, but from the moment she had walked into his life, he’d been having a time of it when it came to rational decisions.
He’d claimed her for his mistress.
He’d trotted after her into the rain like a misbegotten fool.
He’d carried her home, knowing the torment that would entail.
He’d promised to give her time instead of sinking into her molten heat tonight as he desperately wanted.
He’d kissed her.
