Josephine slowly removed her hand, and dealt the cards, trying not to think about, well, what lay beneath Lavisham’s breeches. She had a theoretical knowledge of what to expect. She had older sisters, after all. Many inappropriate things had been said after a glass of sherry or two.
“Can you refrain from eyeing me as if I’m a pastry?” she teased, placing the cards before him.
“Doubtful.” Another low sound came from him, like a dog about to nip at her heels. Then Lavisham leaned over andlickedher neck, taking his time to trace along Josephine’s collarbone.
“Deal the cards,” he murmured. “My patience is thin. I rarely lose at vingt-et-un.”
“You may tonight,” she answered.
“I know you requested five rounds,” he whispered, nuzzling along the side of her neck. “But I think one will be sufficient to determine a winner.” One muscular thigh pressed against her own. “Winner takes all.”
“As you wish, Your Grace.”
“Oh…” His teeth grazed a sensitive spot beneath her ear. “I do wish, Josephine.”
Given the way Lavisham was looking at her, Josephine had anticipated that the game would not go past one hand. She didn’t want it to either. Her heart was already compromised. Why not the rest of her? She was ready to belong to Lavisham, body and soul.
Josephine gave them both three cards. Carefully, she peeked at her own. A ten of hearts and a six of diamonds. A poor hand. She would surely lose.
I want to lose.
Lavisham’s eyes grew hooded. “Do you wish another card?” He gave nothing away, which was what likely made him such an excellent gambler. Except for the heat dancing in his eyes, turning them from a lighter blue to deep sapphire, Josephinewould never have guessed he was even interested in their little game of One and Twenty.
“I don’t believe so.” She gnawed a bit at her bottom lip. “Do you?”
“No.” He regarded her with carnal intent. “I’m perfectly fine where I am.”
“I remain uncertain.” She glanced at the knife in his hand, then back at her cards. The breeches were uncomfortably tight, and as much as she had enjoyed Lavisham’s reaction to seeing her thus, she was rather anxious to have them gone. Also, she’d never had clothing cut from her person before. It was sure to be a sensual experience, if Lavisham was involved.
Josephine’s hand hovered over the stack of cards, tapping her nail against them.
“Tease. Make up your mind, or I’ll just start ripping things off.”
The room became a great deal warmer, and the fire wasn’t even roaring.
“I should.” She drew a card and sighed. A ten of hearts. “Oh dear.” She flipped over her other cards. “Twenty-six.”
Lavisham turned over his own cards. Twenty.
“It seems I’ve lost,” Josephine whispered, even as the blade of the knife flashed out, slicing the shirt from her breasts to her waist so effortlessly she gasped in shock.
“I’m impatient.”
“You might have cut me.”
“Never,” he murmured along her neck. “Now for the breeches.” He paused. “Are you certain, Josephine?” Lavisham’s features became solemn. “There will be no going back from this. I won’t allow it. I want you to be sure.”
“You’ve won, haven’t you?” she returned. Her hands raised to cup his cheeks, feeling the brush of stubble beneath her palmsand kissed him. “And so have I, I think,” she whispered along his mouth.
Lavisham groaned, a deep masculine sound of pleasure that flitted along Josephine’s skin. One broad hand cupped her breast, his palms surprisingly rough as he kneaded the flesh. “You are magnificent. Thief of hearts,” he whispered to her. “Hold still.”
Josephine shut her eyes as the knife sliced open the breeches. She was still wearing her hose, of course. And the stupid boots.
“Lavisham—”
He leaned back and ripped off the boots. “The rest can stay. But I don’t want you kicking me in the backside.”
Josephine let out a soft gasp as he pressed a kiss to her stomach.
