Page 53 of The Earl’s Forbidden Temptation

“Four times?” Sebastian echoed, a note of disbelief threading through his tone as he swept her into the final turn. “You mean to suggest you might be better than I am?”

“Yes,” Darcy said simply, meeting his gaze without flinching.

“Impossible.”

She let her mouth curve into a smile, deliberately inviting him to make something of it. “Oh? Do you mean for me to prove it to you, my lord?”

Something dark and intriguing flickered in his eyes. “I challenge you to a round of chess.”

Darcy felt a thrill race through her, sharp and exhilarating. “Surely there must be a wager,” she replied, her tone turning lightly provocative.

“Ah,” he murmured, studying her with renewed interest, “so you are a clever gambler as well as a strategist.”

“A lady must find some means of earning her keep,” she returned, her lips curving.

His grip upon her hand tightened ever so slightly, not enough to draw notice, yet enough for her to feel it.

“And what,” he asked, “would you consider a suitable stake, Mrs. Whitley?”

Something in his expression made the playful answer upon Darcy’s tongue falter. The amusement remained, faintly touching his mouth, yet his dark blue eyes had sharpened upon hers with an intentness that made her suddenly conscious of how close they stood. He looked entertained, certainly, but there was something else beneath it, something watchful and decidedly male that sent an unwelcome little thrill through her.

Perhaps she had ventured too far. Darcy delicately cleared her throat. “If I beat you…”

“I shall pay you a thousand pounds.”

She gasped. For a moment she could only stare at him, certain she had misheard. A thousand pounds. The enormity of the sum struck first, followed swiftly by indignation that he could speak of it with such careless ease. “Certainly not!”

His brows lifted. “Why not?”

“That sum is outrageous,” she murmured as he escorted her from the dance floor. “If I lose, I could never stake its equal.”

“If you lose,” he returned smoothly, “you will grant me a kiss.”

A startled sound escaped her and Darcy missed a step. His hand immediately steadied hers, but the faint curve of Sebastian’s mouth told her he had noticed. The wretch looked entirely composed, while her pulse had begun a wild, traitorous beat beneath her skin.

A kiss.

Her gaze betrayed her, dropping briefly to his mouth. She already knew its taste, its wicked skill, the heat and pleasure he could coax from a kiss alone. He might believe he tempted Miss Whitley with the unknown, but Red knew precisely what that mouth could do. The memory of it against hers sent warmth sweeping through her, momentarily dimming the ballroom around them.

When Darcy lifted her gaze, Sebastian’s dark blue eyes were intent upon hers, making her pulse leap. He could not possibly know what had caused her reaction, yet there was something almost predatory in the patience with which he observed it.

Darcy gathered her composure. “You are truly an unrepentant scoundrel.”

“As long as we understand one another, I believe we shall get along exceedingly well,” he replied with mock civility. “Do we have a wager?”

“Only a gentleman unacquainted with hardship would consider a kiss worth a thousand pounds.”

“Ah,” he said, his gaze lowering to her mouth before returning to her eyes, “only a man unfamiliar with the particular delight of a woman’s lips would think it worth a penny less.”

A flush of heat swept through Darcy, but she held her ground. “Challenge accepted.”

“Good,” he said, satisfaction threading his tone. “Our host and I have played chess on several occasions. I know his board will already be awaiting us in the study.”

“You mean for us to play here?” she asked, startled.

He glanced down at her, a hint of wickedness entering his expression. “Surely you do not expect me to go home burdened by the knowledge that I might have kissed you and failed to seize the opportunity? Sleep would most certainly elude me.”

“You are… incorrigible,” she said, her breath catching.