“I see.”
Hedidn’tsee. My eyes watered, but I forced the tears back. Or perhaps he did and knew nothing could ever become of us. Ofthis.And that was why we were here, outside our lives and respective stations, hoping for a sliver of time that was just ours.
The tension between us was palpable as we inhaled the same air, our lips nearly close enough to kiss. One step more and they would be touching. Blood rushed in my ears as I contemplateddoing just that, but I nearly jumped out of my skin when a loud crash of breaking glass reached us, and the moment was lost. I shuffled back, hauling air into my aching lungs.
Kissing him would be a mistake, something we couldn’t come back from.
Not even while we were pretending to be…notwho we were.
Despite the loud clatter, the music and dancing in the adjoining space didn’t stop as I took belated stock of where we were standing, trying to distract myself. I blinked and sipped my water. The more of it I drank, the clearer my mind became, and when Tarik handed me a refilled glass, I took it gratefully. A clear head meant no more foolish blunders.
Like kissing.
I glanced up at him. God, those pillowy lips were perfect for it.
Stop gawking, for heaven’s sake!
Hot-cheeked, I guzzled my water and surveyed the tavern instead. This place was like a warren of tiny rooms. Peering over to the right, I took in the sight of green-baize-covered gaming tables in the next hall and felt an indecent thrill spark inside me.
“Look! There are card games here. Shall we try? Do you know how to play vingt-et-un?” I asked my brooding companion, with a wide, innocent stare.
“I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”
Since it worked so well for me last time, I pouted again. “One game, please, Tarik? Girls never get to play like this. Do I need to make my lip quiver to convince you?”
“You fight dirty.” A sound like an aggrieved growl rumbled through him, but it turned into a grumble of resignation. “Very well. One game, but my word goes. If we need to leave, we leave. You must promise me you will do as I say.”
Hiding my glee, I stuck out my hand for him to shake. “I promise, monsieur.”
Chapter Fourteen
Therefore to the same natural effects we must, as far as possible, assign the same causes.
—Isaac Newton
My first thought was that this was nothing like the gaming hell in Cambridge. The fact was this crowd was rowdier, rougher, and infinitely more dangerous. But I was with Tarik, and he would never let any harm come to either of us. Greedy eyes tracked over me, taking in the fine cut and fabric of my gown, and other details that marked us as possible pigeons, while we threaded our way through to a table with a pair of empty chairs.
The dealer sported a huge mustache that I couldn’t help staring at. Though his face was weathered and hard, he had kind brown eyes, I thought. But in places like this, kindness would be construed as weakness. Perhaps it was just my overactive brain trying to convince me that I was safe and not allowing me to give in to the primal instincts that warned me to flee.
One game…
“Betting limits are twenty pounds, minimum is fifty pence,” the dealer said, and my eyes widened at the maximum number.Twenty pounds was no small amount, barely less than theannualsalary of some working-class people. But the maximum bet was only set by the house so that they could cover any losses, which meant that they probably did quite well as a copper hell. “Payout for a natural is two to one, and one to one for a win.”
I took stock of the players. The man at the other end of the table looked like one of reasonable means. The second player, a woman, was dressed well at first glance, but her hem was slightly frayed, and her embroidered collar worn. The third man was a gentleman dressed like us who appeared to have deep pockets, based on the pile of money in front of him.
“Place your stakes.”
Before the dealer handed out the cards—two per player and one for himself, the wagers were made. Surreptitiously, I followed Tarik’s lead and bet only the minimum to start.
An hour later, our single game had turned into several. I won some and I lost some, while Tarik seemed to be consistently losing, though his wagers were small enough not to hurt. After a while, I grasped that he was doing it on purpose. When all the cards in the deck were dealt, the dealer shuffled a new set of cards, and play resumed.
Tarik sat back in his seat, a tiny smirk playing about his lips, a glass of cherry brandy in hand. He looked so utterly relaxed that one might assume—erroneously—he wasn’t a threat, but this was yet another of the masks he wore. I suddenly recalled the allegation that had been made back at the gaming table in Cambridge by the man who had started the fight—that Tarik had somehow memorized and kept track of the cards.
So that was why he hadn’t been playing or betting seriously before.
He’d beenbiding his time.
Perking up, I paid careful attention as well. My first card from the new deck was a queen of spades and my second was a four, which put my total at fourteen. The dealer showed a nine of clubs. I played the round cautiously. Tarik got a natural, doubling his initial bet. The three other players went belly up and I managed to stay alive when the dealer went over twenty-one with a bust.
