Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake
Page 83
When he spoke, his voice was low and dark. “Callie. It would take a blind man not to notice your figure in those clothes. No man I have ever known has had such a lovely—”
“That’s quite enough, my lord,” she cut him off, primly, as though she weren’t standing in the middle of Brooks’s with one of London’s most notorious rakes, wearing men’s clothing. “It’s getting late. I would like to learn to gamble now, if you don’t mind.”
He gave a little smirk and held out a chair, indicating that she should sit at the card table. She moved to take the proffered seat, keenly aware of his nearness. When he had seated himself across from her at the table, he lifted the deck of cards that had been set there, and said, “I think we should begin with vingt-et-un.”
For the next few moments, he explained the rules of the game—helping Callie to understand the strategy required to ensure that her cards were valued as closely to twenty-one as they could be without exceeding the number. They played several rounds, Ralston letting her win before, on the third and fourth games, he beat her roundly. On the fifth game, she was thrilled that she had reached twenty when he flipped over his cards and showed his twenty-one.
Frustrated by another loss, Callie burst out, “You cheated!”
He looked at her, wide-eyed with feigned outrage. “I beg your pardon. If you were a man, I would call you out for that accusation.”
“And I assure you, my lord, that I would ride forth victoriously on behalf of truth, humility, and righteousness.”
He chuckled, shuffling the cards. “Are you quoting the Bible to me?”
“Indeed,” she said primly, the portrait of piousness.
“While gambling.”
“What better location to attempt to reform one such as you?” she said, humor twinkling in her eyes. They shared a smile before he dealt the cards, and she continued, “It would be rather fortuitous, however, if you were to call me out, though. I should like to attend a duel.”
He froze for a fleeting moment, before shaking his head in surrender. “Of course you would. Is there anything on this list that won’t shock me?”
She checked her cards casually before saying, “Oh, most assuredly not.”
“Well, considering it seems that it has become my particular role to help you complete the items, I must ask…how are you enjoying this one?”
She wrinkled her nose as she considered the question. “The club is quite remarkable. I feel certain that I would never have had such an experience if not for you, my lord.”
“Gabriel,” he interrupted.
“Gabriel,” she corrected herself. “But I will say that I am rather uncertain as to what it is about gambling that is so very compelling. To be sure, it is a fine pastime, but I fail to see what it is about the process that lands so many in debtors’ prison.”
He leaned back in his chair and watched her carefully. “You don’t see it, lovely, because you have nothing at risk.”
“At risk?”
“Indeed,” he said, “the appeal of the tables is enhanced by both the thrill of winning and the fear of losing.”
She considered the words before nodding thoughtfully. “Shall we play for money, then?”
He inclined his head toward her. “If you’d like.”
She changed her mind. “You don’t care about losing money.”
“Not particularly.”
“Then it’s not a risk for you.”
“It doesn’t matter if there is no risk for me. This is your night. Only you have to feel the edge of risk. I’m merely your able assistant.”
She couldn’t help the smile that broke at the trivial description. “Oh, no, Gabriel,” she said, and he stiffened at her free use of his given name. “If we are to play a legitimate round of cards, I should like you to feel that you might lose.”
His blue eyes glittered across the table. “Name your terms.”
Excitement flared. “All right, for every round I win…you must answer a question. Truthfully.”
His brows snapped together. “What kind of questions?”
“Why?” she teased. “Are you afraid you will lose to me?”
He leaned forward. “All right, Empress, but for every round I win, you must grant me a favor…of my choosing.”
A thrill went through her at the words, followed immediately by an acute sense of terror. “What kind of favor?”
“Why?” he repeated. “Are you afraid?”
Yes. She met his eyes firmly. “Of course not.”
“Excellent,” he said, dealing the cards quickly. “Then let’s make this interesting, shall we?”
All of a sudden, gambling seemed to Callie like a wonderfully addictive pastime. Every turn of the cards had her breath catching in her throat as she sought ways to beat Ralston. And, on the first round, she did…although she couldn’t help but wonder if it wasn’t possible that he’d let her do so.
Not that she cared. She wanted her answer. She leaned back in her chair and watched for several moments as his long, graceful fingers collected the cards from the table, stacking them carefully and idly shuffling them while he waited for her question. She met his eyes. “Tell me about courtesans.”
He gave a short laugh, shaking his head. “I agreed to answer questions. That wasn’t a question.”
She rolled her eyes. “All right, then. Are there often courtesans here?”
“Yes.”
When he didn’t elaborate, she pressed, “And do they often entertain groups of men?”
“That’s quite enough, my lord,” she cut him off, primly, as though she weren’t standing in the middle of Brooks’s with one of London’s most notorious rakes, wearing men’s clothing. “It’s getting late. I would like to learn to gamble now, if you don’t mind.”
He gave a little smirk and held out a chair, indicating that she should sit at the card table. She moved to take the proffered seat, keenly aware of his nearness. When he had seated himself across from her at the table, he lifted the deck of cards that had been set there, and said, “I think we should begin with vingt-et-un.”
For the next few moments, he explained the rules of the game—helping Callie to understand the strategy required to ensure that her cards were valued as closely to twenty-one as they could be without exceeding the number. They played several rounds, Ralston letting her win before, on the third and fourth games, he beat her roundly. On the fifth game, she was thrilled that she had reached twenty when he flipped over his cards and showed his twenty-one.
Frustrated by another loss, Callie burst out, “You cheated!”
He looked at her, wide-eyed with feigned outrage. “I beg your pardon. If you were a man, I would call you out for that accusation.”
“And I assure you, my lord, that I would ride forth victoriously on behalf of truth, humility, and righteousness.”
He chuckled, shuffling the cards. “Are you quoting the Bible to me?”
“Indeed,” she said primly, the portrait of piousness.
“While gambling.”
“What better location to attempt to reform one such as you?” she said, humor twinkling in her eyes. They shared a smile before he dealt the cards, and she continued, “It would be rather fortuitous, however, if you were to call me out, though. I should like to attend a duel.”
He froze for a fleeting moment, before shaking his head in surrender. “Of course you would. Is there anything on this list that won’t shock me?”
She checked her cards casually before saying, “Oh, most assuredly not.”
“Well, considering it seems that it has become my particular role to help you complete the items, I must ask…how are you enjoying this one?”
She wrinkled her nose as she considered the question. “The club is quite remarkable. I feel certain that I would never have had such an experience if not for you, my lord.”
“Gabriel,” he interrupted.
“Gabriel,” she corrected herself. “But I will say that I am rather uncertain as to what it is about gambling that is so very compelling. To be sure, it is a fine pastime, but I fail to see what it is about the process that lands so many in debtors’ prison.”
He leaned back in his chair and watched her carefully. “You don’t see it, lovely, because you have nothing at risk.”
“At risk?”
“Indeed,” he said, “the appeal of the tables is enhanced by both the thrill of winning and the fear of losing.”
She considered the words before nodding thoughtfully. “Shall we play for money, then?”
He inclined his head toward her. “If you’d like.”
She changed her mind. “You don’t care about losing money.”
“Not particularly.”
“Then it’s not a risk for you.”
“It doesn’t matter if there is no risk for me. This is your night. Only you have to feel the edge of risk. I’m merely your able assistant.”
She couldn’t help the smile that broke at the trivial description. “Oh, no, Gabriel,” she said, and he stiffened at her free use of his given name. “If we are to play a legitimate round of cards, I should like you to feel that you might lose.”
His blue eyes glittered across the table. “Name your terms.”
Excitement flared. “All right, for every round I win…you must answer a question. Truthfully.”
His brows snapped together. “What kind of questions?”
“Why?” she teased. “Are you afraid you will lose to me?”
He leaned forward. “All right, Empress, but for every round I win, you must grant me a favor…of my choosing.”
A thrill went through her at the words, followed immediately by an acute sense of terror. “What kind of favor?”
“Why?” he repeated. “Are you afraid?”
Yes. She met his eyes firmly. “Of course not.”
“Excellent,” he said, dealing the cards quickly. “Then let’s make this interesting, shall we?”
All of a sudden, gambling seemed to Callie like a wonderfully addictive pastime. Every turn of the cards had her breath catching in her throat as she sought ways to beat Ralston. And, on the first round, she did…although she couldn’t help but wonder if it wasn’t possible that he’d let her do so.
Not that she cared. She wanted her answer. She leaned back in her chair and watched for several moments as his long, graceful fingers collected the cards from the table, stacking them carefully and idly shuffling them while he waited for her question. She met his eyes. “Tell me about courtesans.”
He gave a short laugh, shaking his head. “I agreed to answer questions. That wasn’t a question.”
She rolled her eyes. “All right, then. Are there often courtesans here?”
“Yes.”
When he didn’t elaborate, she pressed, “And do they often entertain groups of men?”
