Wedding Wagers(29)

"I suppose you're right," she said. "I am a gambler. What will your terms be?"

Ah. He'd caught her. With a slow smile, he said, "That you'll have three marriage proposals by the end of the summer."

Her eyebrows arched. "Only three? I thought you said I would break a dozen hearts."

"That will be true as well, but only three men will have enough courage to propose."

She laughed again. "And how will all this come about?"

"Your brother will throw a house party here," Victor said. "If I come, many will follow."

"You have quite a high opinion of yourself," she said in a dry tone, her  eyes belying her interest. "And what do I get if you lose?"

"That is for you to say, Lady Juliet."

Her smile was soft as she stepped around him, then moved to the other  side of the table, putting distance between them. From her position, she  surveyed him as if he were a horse up for auction. "All right. If I do  not have three proposals by the end of the summer, I get your pair of  bays outside."

Victor nearly stopped breathing. "Those horses are purebreds."

Her smile widened. "Are you backing out of our wager, Lord Locken?"

The challenge in her blue eyes was irresistible. He smiled back. "Never."





Juliet had to put distance between herself and Lord Locken immediately.  His dark brown eyes missed nothing, and the way he was looking at her  now made her feel like she was standing beneath the sun on a hot summer  day. There was no sun in this kitchen, though, and she'd just made a  wager with a man who had probably won every bet he'd ever made. If the  lift of one side of his mouth, the quirk of his dark eyebrows, and the  way his shoulders were squared with confidence were anything to go by,  this man wasn't used to losing.

The wager was ridiculous, she told herself. Yes, she'd been proposed to  by Lord Stratford, but he was a man more than twice her age. And even if  her brother did agree to throw a house party and a dozen eligible men  attended, that would bring all the ladies as well. And Juliet didn't  hold a candle to ladies of the ton in either fine manner or appearance.

Lord Locken might have called her beautiful and enchanting, but he was a  gentleman of the ton, and flirting was all a part of that. She could  not fathom two other gentlemen proposing to her. Good thing Lord Locken  was the heir to a dukedom and had more money than she could ever dream  of, because he was about to lose a pair of very fine bays.

Juliet moved toward the kitchen window and gazed at the streaks of rain  pelting it. "Perhaps you should stay until the storm lifts. At least  give your horses shelter and food." When she looked over at Lord Locken,  he still wore that amused smile.

"You're quite worried about my bays, aren't you?" he asked.         

     



 

"I always take good care of my horses."

He chuckled. "Very well. I'm assuming I'll be acting as groomsman."

"You assume right," Juliet said. "The stables are on the north side.  They'll be warm and dry even in this weather. There's plenty of room  since we only have two nags."

Lord Locken nodded. "Thank you. I'll return in a moment." He paused by  the doorway and said, "The tea was nice, but do you by chance have  anything a little stronger?"

Juliet hid a sigh. Men and their brandy were all the same, it seemed.  "There's brandy in the library. I'm afraid none of the bedchambers are  prepared for guests, but perhaps you aren't too picky?" Don't blush, she  commanded herself.

"Don't trouble yourself," he said. "I think propriety demands that I stay downstairs if you are to sleep upstairs."

Yes, he was right. "I will bring you some bedding."

"I don't think I'll be sleeping," he said. "I'll be gone as soon as the weather is passable."

She watched him leave the kitchen, and it was like she could breathe  freely again. She hadn't realized how much Lord Locken's presence had  affected her, and if she didn't have to see to her brother or their  guest, she'd cloister herself in her bedchamber for the remainder of the  night.

Juliet heard the front door open and shut, and with Lord Locken  completely out of the house now, she decided to write Mrs. Campton a  note about their guest. She left it in the center of the kitchen table,  then found a clean glass to go with the bottle of brandy in the library.  It had been around for many months, since the only person who drank in  the household was her brother. She entered the library and lit a few  more candles. Noticing her abandoned correspondence to her brother, she  crumpled up the half-written letter and put away the ink and quill.

Then she hurried upstairs to check on John. He hadn't moved, and the  bruising around his nose had darkened. One of his eyes was quite  swollen, and Juliet was sure when her brother awakened, he'd be in  plenty of pain. She left her brother to his rest and located a pillow  and blanket for Lord Locken, despite his declaration that he wouldn't be  sleeping.

By the time she returned to the library, she was surprised to find that  he'd already returned and was sitting in a chair that faced the cold  hearth. He'd removed his outer jacket and cravat and draped them over  the back of the chair opposite him. A half-empty glass of brandy sat on  the side table.

"You've returned," Juliet said and crossed to him, holding the blanket and pillow.

But he didn't respond, and when Juliet rounded the chair, she saw that his eyes were closed.

Was he . . . asleep?

She wanted to laugh. He'd declared that he wouldn't be sleeping, but here he was, not many moments later, dead to the world.

"Lord Locken?" she whispered, reluctant to disturb him, but she wanted to make sure he was comfortable for the night.

He didn't move, didn't stir.

"Lord Locken?" she said a little louder this time. Still, nothing. She  set the pillow on the chair across from him, then draped the blanket  over his body, covering him from his torso to his calves. He should have  taken his boots off to be more comfortable, but he probably hadn't  planned on falling asleep in a chair. Taking off his boots for him  wasn't something she dared to do.

She couldn't help but gaze at his sleeping form, the way his long legs  stretched out before him, the relaxed state of his capable hands, the  dark lashes lying against his cheekbones, and how the whiskers on his  face emphasized the chiseled line of his jaw. A piece of his hair had  fallen across his forehead, and at this close of a distance, she could  smell the rain in his damp hair. She leaned forward, and ever so gently,  she moved the lock off his forehead. Her fingertips brushed the warm  skin of his forehead. She drew her hand away, primarily because she  shouldn't be touching this man and secondarily because her heart was  thundering so loudly that there was risk of waking him.

Juliet took a step back so that she wouldn't be tempted to touch him  again. He was a beautiful specimen of a man, and that made her more  wary. He was about to become engaged, and he probably knew plenty about  her brother's financial mess.

His wager was also ridiculous, and she didn't know what had possessed  him to make it. Perhaps it was the lateness of hour, and they were both  quite out of their senses. Maybe if she won the wager, she could sell  the pair of bays and make a dent in her brother's debts. Or she'd sell  the bays back to Lord Locken. The thought made her smile. She left the  library, and Lord Locken to his rest, then ascended the stairs to her  bedchamber.         

     



 

Juliet made her way to her bedchamber, blew out her candle, and nestled  between the cold covers. It was still raining outside, and eventually  the sound of the raindrops against her windowpanes lulled her to sleep.



"Juliet!"

She awakened to her brother's voice calling her. For a moment, she  couldn't remember how John happened to be home after such a long  absence. Then her memories of the events from the night before swiftly  returned. She sat up in her bed. The sky outside had lightened to a  morning gray, and the rain had stopped, although the clouds were still  dark with threat.

Was Lord Locken awake? Was he still there?

Juliet scrambled out of bed and grabbed the robe she'd been wearing the  night before. She didn't take time to dress because her brother's voice  echoed down the hall once again. Knowing she looked a fright, she  hurried out of her bedchamber. If she crossed paths with Lord Locken,  well, she couldn't look any more disheveled than she had in the middle  of the night when she'd opened the front door to him.

"Coming," Juliet said as she approached her brother's chamber and opened his door.

He was sitting up in bed, and it was obvious that he'd been sick in the wash basin. The stench was like a slap to her senses.

John's blue eyes bugged when he saw her. The bruising on his face had  settled into a deep purple now. "How in damnation did I get home?" he  growled.

Hello to you, too, brother. Juliet wanted to back out of the room or, at  the very least, cover her mouth and nose against the stench, but  instead she stood erect inside the doorway. She used a scrap of her  remaining patience to reply in a calm voice. "Why, Lord Locken brought  you home. He said that you'd been in a bit of a scrape and-"