The clacking stopped, his hands went still, his eyes narrowed. “Who the devil are you?”
“They call me Beast.” Turning slightly, he grabbed an empty chair from a nearby table, swung it around, set it between Thea and Danny so the back of it faced the table, dropped into it, and folded his arms across the top.
“You intend to play?”
“Watch.” He gave a careless shrug. “As well as offer advice to the lady when needed since she’s never before played.”
“That sounds as though it has the potential for cheating.”
“How can I cheat if my hands never go near the cards? Besides, I’ve heard that Lady Fortune has been smiling on you tonight. Would be foolish on your part to move to another table and risk that she wouldn’t follow. She certainly won’t follow if you walk out of here completely.”
The man studied Beast as though he was striving to determine if he was being goaded into a trap. He knew the exact moment the earl decided Beast was no danger to him. Many a man had made the same mistake.
“You make a good point.” Chadbourne began neatly restacking his chips. Dear God, but the arrogant were easily manipulated.
“If the discussion is over,” Danny said, “we’ll get started.” He gave the cards one more shuffle, then straightened them. “The ante is ten quid.”
“May I have your hand for a moment?” Beast asked Thea in a hushed tone that spoke of intimacy. He was fairly certain he heard Chadbourne’s spine snap when he straightened so quickly, with almost military precision. The earl no doubt had used the same tone a time or two and understood fully what it portended.
She didn’t question him, simply held her hand out to him, and that gave him as much satisfaction as he would have had if, in fact, he had been pleasuring her. Well, not quite. But it meant she trusted him, and gratification surged through him with that knowledge. Very slowly, he peeled off her glove. It was the first time he’d touched her hand when it wasn’t covered in kidskin, and he wished he’d done this service for her when they were in the carriage, in the dark, and alone. When he could have pressed his lips to the heart of her palm, could have traced the lines that some claimed predicted one’s future. Her palm contained a slight roughness, one callus, all of which he suspected had been absent before the maggot sitting at this table had turned his back on her.
And yet that palm told a far more interesting tale than it might have if it had been as smooth as silk, and he valued it more because it wasn’t.
After folding the glove over his thigh, he loosened the three buttons on her cuff and began rolling up the fabric along her forearm. “We don’t want anyone to think you’re hiding a card up your sleeve and accuse you of cheating.”
“Oh.” The single word came out on a breathy sigh, and he wondered if she was becoming as wet as he was becoming hard. He really should have done this elsewhere, where it might have led to a kiss . . . or more. Another mistake. A worse mistake.
The silence at the table was nearly deafening, and he could sense the other men were absorbed in observing his ministrations, no doubt each of them experiencing at least a modicum of envy. Therefore, he went even slower when he removed her other glove and rolled up her sleeve. When he was done, he lifted his eyes to her face and discovered she was studying her hands as though they were suddenly foreign to her, as though she was striving to determine how they had come to be hers.
Finally, she met his gaze, and he saw a woman dearly in want of ravishing, a woman he dearly wanted to ravish.
A harsh clearing of a throat had her jerking slightly and turning her attention to the dealer.
“As I said, everyone ante up.”
Beast didn’t fail to notice that Danny’s voice was a little rough at the edges, slightly hoarse, and he wondered if he might be seeking a woman’s arms when he was done here.
The five other players at the table—which included the dealer—tossed in their chip. Thea looked at him, and he saw an infinitesimal amount of doubt in her eyes. With a smile for encouragement, he gave her a nod. She carefully selected a chip as though the one chosen made a difference, and scooted it across the baize-covered table to join the others. He wasn’t the only one who watched the journey of that slender, elegant hand.
Danny began dealing the cards. Beast signaled to a passing footman. When the young lad arrived, Beast said, “A sherry for Miss Stanwick and a scotch for me.”
“Right away, sir.”
“You know what she likes to drink?” Chadbourne asked, surliness woven between the syllables.
Beast held silent for all of a minute before bestowing upon him the grin that men had been displaying for centuries when they knew they possessed what another man coveted. “I know everything she likes.”
Althea had the distinct impression two games were being played at this table.
One involved cards and was being played between her and Chadbourne. The other involved... Well, to be honest, she thought it quite possibly involved her and was being played between Chadbourne and Benedict. Based on the frequency with which the muscles in the earl’s cheeks jumped, she was rather certain Benedict was winning. Especially as he appeared to be so frightfully relaxed and enjoying himself, rather like a panther that had just pounced upon a gazelle and feasted. It was an unfair match. The gazelle had never stood a chance.
She wasn’t certain the odds of her winning when it came to Benedict were much better. Her plan had seemed so uncomplicated when it had taken shape in her mind, mostly because at the time she’d thought her heart dead, naught but ashes scattered on the wind. Her mind hadn’t been much better. Three months after the destruction of her world, her ability to handle complicated matters was nowhere to be found. She’d still been numb at ending up where she had, so far from where she’d envisioned life to take her. The numbness had been a blessing, stopped her from going stark raving mad.
She’d reasoned that her absent heart and numbed mind would make it easier to do what needed to be done because her heart wasn’t there to make her long for things, and her mind had no desire to think about things. Except the windshad shifted and blown her heart back into her chest, and her mind was analyzing decisions made and calling her every sort of fool. All because of the man sitting beside her, who somehow had the power to not only make her feel again, but also to think again.
The card game was incredibly easy to play, didn’t require a lot of concentration on her part. Still, she always experienced a sharp thrill when she won the hand. After a winner was revealed, the discarded cards were tucked against the bottom of the deck. The deck was only shuffled if one of the revealed hands had three cards of the same rank.
Because concentration wasn’t required on her part, she found herself focusing on Chadbourne and noticed something about him she’d completely overlooked before: he had a weak chin. As though shy, it made a small appearance, the tiniest bit of a jut, and then disappeared behind his perfectly knotted neck cloth.
