Page 63 of Rules for a Wicked Wager

If he could not stop himself, if nothing would prevent him from exposing her every wayward desire, then he had to tell her all. About himself. If she were exposed, then he would need to be as well. Not just the pieces he’d meant to show her tonight. Not the half measures meant to placate her, but everything.

That was hard. That was terrifying, but he would do it if it meant winning her to his side.

“Tomorrow night,” he rasped before he could change his mind. “I cannot manage it tonight, but tomorrow. I will find you at the ball. Bring a dark cloak if you have one.”

Her eyes widened, and she nodded. No hesitation, no regret, just a solemn trust that he would keep her safe. Which was all the more damning, because he knew he was the rake here. He would seduce her tomorrow.

Chapter Fourteen

Mari watched Peter slip out of the room. He hadn’t given her leave to use his Christian name, but in her thoughts he would forever be Peter.

Peter the handsome.

Peter the strong.

Peter the man who showed her why every woman worked so feverishly to get married.

It was for that feeling. For that explosion of pleasure. For that amazing experience of joy that sang through her heart and mind long after he’d left.

“Greenie,” she whispered, “I didn’t know. Why didn’t I know?”

“Happy sodding day!” the bird chirped, and Mari was so happy she didn’t even remonstrate with the creature. But she didn’t feed the bird either.

“Happy day,” she said firmly as she held up the bit of apple. “Oh, Greenie, it is such a happy day.” Then she fed it to him.

She remained in that state of bliss for a minute more. Maybe as many as two, but before long, doubts began to creep in. Had it truly felt as wonderful as she remembered?

Her belly still quivered when she thought of it. Her breasts were heavy, and the memory of his face as he whispered that she was safe—well, that made her wonder when she could be wayward with him again.

“Happy day,” she said as she fed Greenie a bit of apple. “Happy day.”

Then her gaze happened to land on her reticule. Inside it was her neat list of requirements in a husband. She certainly had an item to add now, didn’t she? Though God only knew how she’d phrase it.

Waywardness in bed?

Waywardness in the afternoon?

Waywardness often.

She giggled and fed Greenie another bit of apple without remembering to speak the phrase. It was some moments later when she thought of something else. Something that horrified her down to her toes.

What if waywardness wasn’t always this much fun? What if it only occurred with certain gentlemen?

How horrible to be trapped for the rest of your life doing that with a man who didn’t make it wonderful. What if Mr. Camden, for example, made it dull? She might be an unmarried virgin, but she’d overheard enough to know that men weren’t always good in bed.

She shuddered in horror. Worse, the more she thought of it, the more frightened she became. Mr. Camden didn’t like her being wayward. He’d remonstrated with her on that very thing. What if he made this thing as restricted and sedate as everything else?

But that made no sense. The very nature of what they’d done was to be unrestrained. She couldn’t imagine doing it while still tied in a corset and with her hair gripped into a fist-like bun. That would be horrible.

She had to know. She couldn’t possibly marry a man who didn’t enjoy this.

The mantel clock chimed the hour, but instead of looking at it, her gaze went to where her fingers had gripped the wood. Her face heated, and her legs shifted with a secret thrill. What a difference a single hour had made. Now she had a whole new requirement in a husband, and nothing would satisfy her but to know if Mr. Camden could make her feel like that as well. She didn’t even know if he still wanted to marry her, but she could not answer him until she learned the truth.

So when Lady Illston’s butler knocked on the door, she had her reticule in hand. A moment later, she collected her maid and climbed into her carriage. How easy it was to be wicked, she realized. She’d just had the most scandalous experience, and yet she’d adhered to the proprieties. At least the appearance of them.

The trip through London was tedious, but necessary. The urgency to answer her question was building, so when the carriage stopped in front of Mr. Camden’s office building, she went in with her head held high.

It wasn’t proper for her to be here. Unwed ladies didn’t enter such places, even with a maid in tow. She did it anyway, ignoring the shocked expressions of the men toiling in wretched darkness at their desks. At least her father’s office let the secretaries sit by windows.