Luck Is No Lady (15 page)

She received a horrible hand. She forced her focus back to the game as she struggled to make the most of what she had been dealt. In the end, her efforts were ineffective as he won the next round as well.

She hesitated this time when he held his hand out for his winnings. Meeting his gaze, she searched for evidence of his true intention. His steady blue eyes looked back at her, revealing nothing but a gleam of triumph. Was he simply pleased by his win, or was there more to it? Was he trying to seduce her in earnest?

Goodness, I hope so.

Emma stiffened. Where on earth had that thought come from? Nothing could come of a dalliance with this man, nothing lasting anyway. And there was so much risk inherent in a careless liaison.

Too much risk.

She knew this. Yet, when he arched one eyebrow in a silent demand, she surrendered her hand with bated breath. She anticipated the same gentle assault, so when he brought her hand immediately to his mouth, she was surprised. And then she was shocked.

Before she could think to pull away, he had placed her index finger directly into his mouth, closing his lips around the first knuckle.

A firestorm erupted in her center as the velvety surface of his tongue swirled around her fingertip. She did not close her eyes this time, and his gaze held hers captive. He removed her index finger from his mouth in a slow glide. Then he replaced it with the next finger, drawing it a little farther into the heat of his mouth.

It was so shocking and strange in a way that commanded all of her attention.

She was
fascinated
.

The texture of his tongue, the heat of his mouth, the gentle scrape of her knuckle against his teeth… It was all so visceral. So primitive. It opened up a flood of sensations through Emma's body.

When he moved to her ring finger, he nipped at the pad playfully, sending a jolt through her languid center. She pressed her thighs together on instinct.

When he came to her pinkie finger, he did not take it into his mouth as she expected. Rather, he took her hand in his and drew it toward him as if he would place a proper kiss upon her knuckles. Instead, he dipped the tip of his tongue into the sensitive hollow between her pinkie finger and ring finger. The startling sensation brought a gasp to her lips.

She withdrew her hand, curling it into a fist in her lap, and gave him an accusing look. “Our wager was for a kiss. Not…that.”

He chuckled. The look in his eyes was entirely unrepentant and far too knowing. “There is more to kissing than a simple press of the lips. A true kiss explores with lips, tongue, and teeth. It incorporates aspects of the caress and the embrace.”

His voice rolled sensually around the words, leaving Emma no choice but to visualize the details of his explanation in another context. What must it be like to experience such a kiss on the mouth? Their one kiss behind the curtain had been brief—just a meeting of the lips—but still it had been devastating to her senses. If she won, would he kiss her in the manner he described?

He said nothing more as he reached for the cards to shuffle and deal.

Her hand was again of poor quality, and she struggled through the first few tosses. Then things swung surprisingly in her favor as she took the next several tricks and won the round. After laying the last card in triumph, she looked up to see Roderick drawing his chair around the table toward hers.

“What are you doing?”

He grinned as he took his seat. “I cannot kiss you from across the table. Not very well anyway, and I have no intention of cheating you out of your winnings.” He gripped the arms of her chair and pulled her toward him until her knees bumped between his spread thighs.

Her body bloomed with heat.

Right. The kiss.

She didn't know what to do and so sat stiffly in her seat, her hands clasped in her lap, her knees squeezing together to keep from pressing against his inner thighs. Her heart thudded so fiercely, she seriously considered it might escape from her chest. And when she lifted her eyes to meet his, a violent flush of yearning washed through her at the sensuality in his gaze. He was no longer concealing his thoughts. The game was over and this moment was suddenly very real.

A flutter of fear rose in her stomach, but she had no intention of backing down. This was exactly what she had wanted. She had earned her winnings fair and square.

Slowly, he lifted his hands to cradle her face, just as he had that first time. His fingers supported the back of her neck, and his thumbs brushed softly against her cheekbones. He drew her forward at the same time he leaned in. Their lips met in the middle.

The kiss started gently.

It was everything Emma remembered and more. The warmth of his mouth. The firm confidence in the way he fitted his lips to hers. The scent of him filling her nostrils. The way her body softened and ached.

He brushed his thumb over her jaw and pressed at the corner of her mouth. When her lips parted, he tilted his head and swept his tongue past her teeth. The deepening of the kiss brought a rush of tingling heat to her core. The sensation was heavy and delicious. She leaned farther into him, bracing her hands on the hard surface of his thighs.

His muscles tensed under her fingers and a low sound rolled in his throat. His tongue darted more possessively into her mouth and she curled her tongue in response. When she allowed her teeth to close lightly on his lower lip, he groaned in earnest and drew back. But it was only to grasp her around the waist as he stood, drawing them both to their feet. He wasted no time in enfolding her in a solid embrace. Her breasts pressed wonderfully against his wide chest; his hips bumped against hers.

Lifting her hands to wrap them around his neck, she surrendered completely to the kiss, melting into him. As their mouths played with growing urgency, he slid one hand down to her buttocks, pulling her hips more securely against him until she could feel the hard ridge of his desire pressing into her belly.

More heat bloomed in her body, her legs trembled dangerously, and a need akin to desperation filled her.

To her total dismay, he pulled back. Her hands fell to his shoulders and she opened her eyes, wondering why he'd stopped, wishing he would go on kissing her forever.

His head was bent over hers, and his gaze was dark and intense beneath hooded eyelids. He shifted his weight, creating more space between them. She swallowed back her protest.

“I often wonder what lies beneath your constant restraint,” he said slowly, his voice lowering to just above a whisper as he brought his hand up to finger the buttons at the throat of her gown. “There is daring in you, Emma, or you never would have come to the club, seeking a position.”

He released the first button and her breath hitched.

“What else do you conceal from the world?” Another button slid free, then another. “What passions flow through your veins?”

His warm breath caressed the exposed skin of her throat. Licking her lips, Emma replied, “I am not a passionate person. I am sensible. Responsible.”

His laugh was low and the sound of it rolled through her blood.

“Lie to yourself, sweetheart, but not to me. You are those things, but so much more besides.”

He lifted his hand to trace his fingertips across her collarbone, pausing to press against the pulse at the base of her throat. Then he continued his tantalizing exploration along the line of her sternum, until his palm flattened between the swells of her breasts, which rose and fell with every shaking breath. The warmth of his hands on her, the heat in his gaze, ignited an elemental need within her.

A kiss was one thing. The desire growing fierce in her blood urged her to far more. There was an edge of fear at the thought of how much more she wanted from this man. She imagined the smooth hardness of his bare skin beneath her hands. She yearned to feel his body against hers without the many layers of clothing as a barrier to his heat.

No proper lady should desire such things.

But she did, with more intensity than she thought herself capable of.

“An adventurous heart beats within you,” he murmured. “I wonder what it would take to liberate it. I dream of showing you all the pleasures life has to offer.”

With deliberate care, he slid his hand beneath the edge of her open gown to cup her breast. A sigh slid from her lips just before he took her mouth again in a kiss that melted away the last resistance in her mind. Sensation overcame all that remained of her sensibility.

She had never before been so grateful for the destruction of rational thought.

Roderick explored her mouth with a staggering hunger.

His initial intention with the wager had been to push her past her comfort zone, shake her up as he had been wanting to do since he met her. The amount of control she had displayed while playing had been impressive. But it had fired his need to break through her unflappable facade.

When she demanded a true kiss as winnings, the game became something far more than he had intended. And when he had taken her fingers to his mouth one by one and her gaze melted with emerging sensuality, he had been trapped. Trapped by his lust, his craving to experience more of the mysteries she hid so well. He knew he was caught up in something beyond his typical sexual exploits. He knew it was risky.

But he had taken risks all his life.

He gently squeezed the fullness of her breast. She arched into his palm and he reveled in her response. When he brushed his thumb over the stiff peak of her nipple, she drew in a quick breath and clutched at his shoulders. Tugging at the lacy edge of her chemise, he bared another inch of her soft skin, but it would not go farther without removing her gown and stays.

Frustration flashed in his heated blood as he drew his mouth from hers to murmur softly against her ear, “Not liberated yet, it would seem.”

A small trembling laugh escaped from her lips and she turned her head to press a kiss to the heavy pulse in his throat.

The innocent pressure of her mouth fired his blood. He grasped her waist in his hands and lifted her onto the table. She held tightly to his shoulders and drew a swift breath, but she did not protest or resist. Even when he nudged her legs apart and stepped between them.

Her enchanting gray eyes had deepened to a smoky shade, and hair had loosened from her strict bun to fall in wispy tendrils against her cheeks and neck. His gut tightened with the desire to see her hair fully released and spread across the green felt in a golden wave, her breasts unrestrained and lifted for his mouth, her skirts bunched around her hips, and her legs wrapped around him.

The jolt of lust was so intense his knees nearly buckled.

With a low sound, he grasped her hips in his hands and pulled her forward to the edge of the table. Then he wrapped his arms around the deep bend of her waist, forcing her to arch back over his arms as he brought his mouth to the tantalizing shadow between her breasts.

She clung to him, her legs squeezing against his thighs. Despite the layers of her skirts still tucked between them, he could feel the heat from her core. He pulled her hips more securely against him, pressing his erection into the cradle of her body. Her gasp turned into a quiet moan as he rocked forward. She drew her legs higher around him.

God, she was amazing. Generous. Finally unrestrained.

He wanted her so badly he could taste it. He could feel it in his blood and on his tongue.

He dragged his mouth up her throat and lifted his hand to cradle the back of her head as he claimed her mouth again. Their tongues twined; their breath mingled.

The taste of her was like forbidden fruit. He was allowing this to go way too far, but he could not stop yet. The richness of her kiss, the heat of her response was everything he dreamed it would be. He needed just a little more.

Sliding his hand beneath the hem of her skirts, he skimmed his palm up the back of her thigh, so smooth and strong. She arched against him, breaking from the kiss to gasp for breath as her hands curled tightly into the material of his shirt. The thrust of her breasts drew his attention, and he lowered his head toward one peak, drawing the hardened nipple into his mouth, rolling his tongue back and forth, saturating the thin fabric that acted as the only barrier.

Her body undulated in an erotic dance as she simultaneously held him to her breast with one hand around the back of his neck and tried to roll her hips more intimately against his.

Acknowledging what her body was seeking, Roderick reached between them to tug the material of her skirts away. Then he held her secure as he pressed his hips forward. Now, only his breeches remained between the heat of her center and the thrust of his erection.

The sound she made then sent piercing shivers of pleasure through his body. He wanted nothing more than to claim her completely.

Instead, he forced himself to pull back and meet her desirous gaze. His pulse was rapid and unsteady.

“Do you know where this is going?” he asked roughly.

She licked her lips before answering, and it was all he could do not to chase after her tongue.

“I think so.”

“I need you to know for sure,” he insisted. “Once I take you, there will be no going back. I do not accept anything in half measure. Do you understand?”

He waited while her gaze slowly sharpened, signifying her return from the edge. Her fingers sifted back through his hair to curl gently at his nape as she straightened her posture. The change in her body, her manner, was a clear answer. The lust rolling through him like an avalanche brought a sharp ache of protest through his muscles as he released her and stepped back.

She dropped her arms to her sides and took a long, steadying breath before she lifted her fingers to the buttons of her dress. Seeing the delicate movement of her hands as she slowly covered the flesh he had tasted just moments ago was too much for him. He stepped to the side, removing her from his direct line of vision. Bracing his hands on the surface of the table, he allowed his head to hang heavily between his shoulders and he closed his eyes.

He trained all of his focus on the heavy path of his breath in and out of his lungs, and still it was barely enough to block the subtle sounds of her righting herself beside him. Was he a bastard for wanting to drag her back into his arms, toss her skirts, and bury himself deep? Was he insane to believe such an act wouldn't be entirely irresponsible and selfish? He had promised her protection. Not this.

He cursed himself as he heard her hesitate before she moved quietly toward the door. He could not lift his head to watch her slip away. Once he heard the click of the door closing behind her, he released the growl of frustration that had been building since he stepped back from the warmth of her body.

It had not been his intention to attempt a seduction when he had requested her presence today. He had been out of sorts, too tired to sleep, and all he had been able to think about was her. He had wanted to hear her voice and study the intricacies of her expression.

The game had been a spontaneous idea intended to test her limits, shake her out of her constant restraint. To see what she may reveal about herself in the process.

After what had nearly happened, there was no denying his interest went far deeper than mere curiosity.

He had become enchanted by the woman who touched her tongue to the center of her upper lip after every sip of claret, unwilling to waste even a drop, and the intent little lift of her left eyebrow when she examined the cards in her hand. He had been drawn in by the odd beauty in her unwavering concentration and her barely concealed enjoyment in the game. Her skills at the table surprised him, her strategy caught him off guard, and the obvious pleasure she tried to suppress every time she won made him want to give her more of the same.

Roderick pushed against the table to stand straight, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to dispel the tension there. Today had been a mistake, but there was no going back.

He walked across the sitting room to the bellpull.

It was time he knew more about her.

Time to see what Bishop had discovered.

* * *

Emma entered the town house as quietly as she could, hoping she would be lucky enough to avoid encountering either of her sisters. She nearly made it to her bedroom, but just as she reached for the doorknob, Lily stepped into the hall from the room next to hers.

“Emma,” she said in surprise. Then her gaze narrowed curiously. “You are home a bit early. Is everything all right?”

Emma resisted the urge to press her hand to her racing heart, feeling like a naughty child getting caught with her hands full of sweets. “Everything is fine. I just developed a headache and came home early.”

Lily's expression turned to one of concern, and Emma was grateful for this sister's trusting nature. Portia would not have been so easily convinced.

“You do look a little flushed. I hope you are not falling ill, with the hours you have been keeping. You should really try to get more rest.”

Emma pushed her bedroom door open. She looked to Lily apologetically, feeling a sharp spear of guilt for reneging on her duties. “That is exactly what I hope to do. Would you mind if I forego visiting hours today? I do not feel quite up to it.”

“Of course,” Lily replied. “We have the Lovells' party tonight. Should I send our regrets?”

Emma shook her head. “No, I will be fine by tonight. I just need a little rest.”

“All right. I will make sure you are not disturbed.”

“Thank you, Lily. You are a treasure,” Emma said, meaning every word.

With a smile, Lily continued down the hall.

Closing her bedroom door behind her, Emma went directly to her bed and fell back on the mattress as every bit of tension drained from her body. Covering her face with her hands, she finally allowed herself to think about what had nearly happened—what
had
happened—with Roderick Bentley. Her body still hummed with the impressions he had left behind with his touch and his kiss.

Goodness, had she really allowed him to caress her breast? And the way he had held her on the table, and the depth of his kisses…

Heat infused her again at the memories of what had transpired. It had been a phenomenal experience. She had never thought she could become so lost in a collection of sensations, so consumed by a desire for more.

She pushed herself to a seated position in the middle of her bed. Elation still rode high in her chest. She couldn't seem to shake the joy and excitement that had carried her home. She looked around her room with fresh eyes, seeing everything exactly how she had left it that morning. But it all seemed different somehow, because she knew she had been infinitely changed by her experience. She felt awakened—more alive than she had ever been.

She rose from the bed and crossed to sit at her vanity. Looking at herself in the mirror, she saw an image that was frighteningly unfamiliar. Her cheeks were flushed—Lily had been right about that—and her lips looked fuller, pinker. Her hair had started to slip from its pins in the bun at her nape, and gold tendrils brushed against her face.

Her eyes widened and she lifted her hands to her head as a startling thought occurred to her.

She had been so distracted as she left Roderick's room, she had not even bothered to return to her office for her bonnet and pelisse. She had left the club looking just as she did now.

Panic infused her blood as she tried to recall whether or not anyone had been about on the street when she had stood at its edge to hail the cab. What it must have looked like with her dress creased, her hair a mess, her lips swollen from kisses, and her eyes dazed.

She propped her elbows on the vanity and dropped her face into her hands. She would never forgive her thoughtlessness if someone had recognized the eldest Miss Chadwick leaving a gentlemen's club in a clear state of disarray. People would immediately assume some scandalous reason for her presence at such a place, and her reputation would be forfeit.

She could not afford to be so stupid.

Her memories of the afternoon with Roderick took on a bitter taste as distress over the possible consequences of her careless actions clouded her personal bliss. She had been selfish in thinking she could be so reckless.

She whispered a silent and fervent prayer her indiscretion had gone unnoticed by anyone beyond herself and Roderick Bentley.

Just as she finished the thought, she realized she would have to face him again Monday morning. How would she manage that without dissolving into a mass of breathless nerves? It was difficult to imagine accomplishing such a feat, but she would have to worry about that later. Tonight was another party. Her focus, first and foremost, had to be on her sisters.

In an effort to bring herself back into alignment with her responsibilities, she rose from the vanity and strode to her writing desk where the day's post had been set for her review. Lifting the small stack of envelopes, she sorted through them. Invoices from creditors and vendors for charges necessary to outfit them all for the Season. Invitations to social events.

And another missive from Mr. Mason Hale.

Emma clenched her teeth and took a long breath through her nose as she set the other pieces of mail aside and broke the seal on Hale's letter.

Miss Chadwick,

It would be in your best interest to see this letter as a demand for immediate payment of the personal loan extended by myself to your father, Mr. Edgar Chadwick. I have been more than kind in allowing a reprieve to date. Anyone will tell you I am not a kind man. Nor am I a patient one.

I have not found your current location yet, Miss Chadwick. But be assured, I will. You would be best served to make good on the loan before I do.

I will see repayment. In one way or another.

M. H.

Emma read through the letter three times before folding it up again with trembling hands and sliding it into the small drawer of her writing desk with the other missives she had received from the man. She had nearly forgotten about Hale while she had been settling into her routine at the club, but she had known he would not remain silent for long.

And there was no denying the threat in his words, or the certainty. Emma could not imagine it would be a difficult matter to track them down. They had a limited number of relatives.

The letter was dated more than two weeks ago, its delivery delayed by the fact that it had to be forwarded from their prior address.

Hale may already have found their new location.

Fear squeezed her chest, shortening her breath.