Page 17 of Rules for a Wicked Wager

The bird tried to reach for the apple, but she pulled it away, thereby demonstrating that she knew nothing about training birds. Specific treats should be tied to the phrase. The creature ought to be stuffed on apple right now as she kept repeating “Happy day.”

She was not going to win their wager which might have pleased him if he cared one way or another about it. He did not. He’d come here for an entirely different purpose.

And that purpose allowed him to relax a moment and appreciate her body. She was an animated woman with a nice bum, neatly outlined as she leaned over the table and tried to entice the creature. Given that he was built on a large scale, he liked a woman with curves.

Her other attributes were blocked from his view, but he recalled them easily. Her breasts were lush, her hips tempting, and her lips were on the proper side of sinfully dark. But mostly, she was alive in his mind in a way that no other woman ever approached. And right now, she was dropping into a nearby chair, clearly at odds with the world.

“You’re an awful bird, and I hate this game,” she grumbled.

He was too amused by her to realize his mistake until it was too late. With Miss Powel in a chair, the bird could see him. And right on cue, the creature greeted him.

“Winner, winner!”

Peter grinned at the bird and crossed into the room. “Good morning, Greenie.” A simplistic, stupid name for such an intelligent bird. “Miss Powel.”

He tried not to notice how she’d leapt from her chair, her bosom jiggling and her color deepening to a delightful rose.

“Lord Whitly!” Shock and horror on her face. “What are you doing here?”

“I believe your hour is up.” He gestured with one hand to the mantel clock. With the other, he fed the creature a bit of carrot, which was greedily consumed. “Good bird.”

“Oh,” she said as she obviously took in the time. “Nevertheless, you should have announced yourself.”

“I’m sorry if I startled you,” he said, but she suddenly gasped and clenched her fists.

“And now you know my phrase!”

He leaned against the table, wondering why she chose to wear such an insipid shade of pink. It was so dull, even the matching ribbon looked bored.

“I knew it before,” he said, “so there’s no harm done there.”

“You couldn’t possibly.”

He nodded as he looked at her hair. She’d done it up into a tight bun that pulled her skin flat across her forehead. Bloody painful to look at. Didn’t that give her a headache?

“You didn’t shade your mouth when you whispered it to Lady Illston. I read it off your lips.”

She gaped at him, her hand going to her mouth. Pity to cover up one of her best features. “That’s not possible,” she said.

“I assure you, it is. I had a playmate as a boy. His father worked at the stable, and we were inseparable. Then one year, he took a fever. An ugly disease, but he survived. Except he was deaf from then on.”

“Winner, winner!” the bird cried.

“Greedy thing,” he said as he passed the creature more carrot.

“He learned to read language off a person’s lips? How extraordinary.”

“He is much better at it than I, for obvious reasons, but we learned it together. I kept up the knack because…” He shrugged. “I suppose I don’t like it when people keep secrets from me.”

“But that’s cheating!”

He tilted his head. She couldn’t possibly think that. And yet looking at her flashing eyes, he realized she was truly that innocent. Replacing the bird would be cheating. Preventing the woman from spending time with the creature would be cheating. Knowing the woman’s phrase, though? It was simple skill.

But rather than explain that, he decided to pursue his primary goal. The one where she tumbled headlong into love with him. And that, of course, began with flattery.

“It is not cheating. And I cannot help it if I find your lips particularly fascinating.”

She blinked at him, and her cheeks flamed like fire. Clearly, she wasn’t used to compliments. She immediately began stammering.