Luck Is No Lady(105)
He had been playing now for more than an hour and had won nearly every hand. Several opponents had gotten up from the table in disgruntlement. He was running out of challengers.
The spectators standing around him seemed to find it all quite wonderful.
He was making a spectacle of himself, and normally he would hate being the center of attention, but tonight he couldn’t bring himself to care. All he wanted to do was forget that Emma stood somewhere in the room behind him. So close, but entirely out of his reach.
After he took yet another pot, the men he had been playing with all stood and bowed out of the game, claiming they had been looking only for a slight diversion and were not interested in losing their hats tonight.
Out of habit and years of practice, Roderick kept his expression neutral, revealing nothing of his internal frustration. It seemed he would have to go elsewhere for some real play and a more effective distraction. Though now that he had seen her again, he doubted anything would succeed in chasing her from his thoughts.
He tucked away his reluctant winnings. “If there is no one else who wishes to play—”
“I would like to play, Mr. Bentley.”
Roderick froze in the act of scooping the remaining coins from the table. His heart seized and his hands turned cold. He could not move, could barely breathe, as she appeared from behind him.
She moved with efficient grace around the table, her rose-colored gown clinging to her perfect figure, making him ache to slide his hands around her narrow waist and down past the curve of her hips. He was grateful then to be seated, as lust and longing caused an instant reaction in his body. Reaching the opposite side of the table, she stopped, then turned to face him with her hands resting on the back of the chair.
The sparkling light in her gray eyes sent little shocks of alarm to his brain. Excitement, desire, and a touch of fear rushed through his system.
Here now was a worthy opponent.
Roderick did not have to glance about the room to know speculation was high around them. It was not unusual for a lady to join in the games. The play at these type of parties was often quite civilized. But those watching the moment could not possibly miss the tension between the two people facing each other across the table. They might not understand exactly what it was, but they were starting to realize something extraordinary was happening.
Emma tipped her chin. “Do you object?”
Roderick resisted the urge to demand she state her intentions. Something inspired him to be patient and allow the scene to play out as it would. His luck had been extraordinary so far tonight—perhaps it would hold out a bit longer.
Rising to his feet, he smiled. Her gaze flickered in response and her hands clenched more tightly over the back of the chair. She was not as blasé as she tried to appear. He offered a low bow, then replied, “Of course not, Miss Chadwick, do sit down.”
A gentleman from the crowd stepped forward to draw out her chair. She took her seat, her expression showing only effortless calm and steady composure as a new pack of cards was placed on the table.
“What shall we play?” she asked.
His smile deepened. “Lady’s choice.”
He thought he saw a flicker of a smile at the corner of her mouth as they cut the deck to see who dealt first, but it could have been a trick of the light or wishful thinking. She won the honor and started to shuffle the cards. With a quiet lift of her gaze, she peered at him from beneath her lashes.
“All fours?”
It was the game they had played that night in his private rooms. Wary excitement surged.
He gave a nod of acceptance, and she extended the deck for him to cut.
“Shall we play to eleven? What will you wager, Mr. Bentley?”
A wager? His blood pounded furiously through his veins.
He smiled and forced her gaze to meet his directly. “Wagering for money is such a dull practice, do you not agree?”
He thought he saw the corner of her mouth attempting to curl again, but she suppressed it. With a graceful flick of her wrist, she started to deal the cards. Keeping her gaze lifted from the efficient movement of her hands, she tilted her head.
“I quite agree,” she answered. “Surely, we can think of something more interesting to put on the table.”
“Is there anything in particular you would like me to forfeit?”
He watched her steadily, waiting for her to declare her purpose in approaching him tonight. He had a delightful suspicion what it was, but she was so adept at hiding her thoughts and feelings. All he had to go on was his hunch, and though his hunches were rarely wrong, this was one time he desperately wanted to be right.
With the cards dealt, she lowered her gaze to her hands, carefully releasing the tiny ivory buttons at the wrists of her gloves. “I understand you have in your possession a collection of distinctive books.” She tugged at the tip of each finger to remove first one glove and then the other. “If I win, I would like to take control of those books. Indefinitely.”