A Reckless Wager by Christine Donovan
Chapter Six
Dinner that evening was a formal affair marking the start of the week-long hunt and festivities. Georgiana sat between Amberville and Blackstone, with Lady Osborne opposite her. Lady Osborne ignored dinner table etiquette and spoke across the table, trying to engage the duke in conversation. Georgiana knew what she was doing. Distracting Amberville so she and Blackstone could converse. It was plain as the aqua turban covering Lady Osborne’s hair that she and Blackstone were Lady Osborne’s attempted match for this month.
It was almost laughable when Georgiana witnessed Lady Sewell try to distract Blackstone. She was trying to keep the match from happening. She almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of being someone’s project.
“Lady Georgiana,” Amberville said as the first course cleared, “I look forward to tomorrow’s hunt. I believe with our hunting skills we will be the clear winners.”
Blackstone covered up a snort with his hand. “Sorry. I rather think the earl and I have a good chance of winning. I’m rather looking forward to the prize.”
Heat scorched her cheeks at the mention of what prize he spoke about—a kiss. There was also a money prize for the winners, but she didn’t think that’s what he referred to.
Honestly, Georgiana could not remember anything about the wager except for the kiss. If she won the hunt, did she receive a kiss? Or did he receive a kiss if he won? A French kiss. What did that mean? Did it matter? Either way, she expected to be kissed by the viscount by tomorrow.
“I believe the teams are evenly matched,” she said a little breathlessly.
Later, in the drawing room, which had been set up as a card room, Phillip sat at a table with Georgiana, Amberville, and Miss Emma Montgomery, playing whist. He was losing. His mind was not on his cards but on Georgiana. On finding a way to get her alone tonight and perhaps cash in on the wager early. For some reason, her lips distracted him until he finally threw his cards on the table and intoned, “I’m out. Excuse me.”
Existing the French doors into the dimly lit gardens, Philip inhaled the first natural breath he’d taken all night. Bloody hell, Georgiana had his insides twisted up in knots and his lungs refusing to work correctly. How had she gotten under his skin so quickly? And seeing how affectionately Amberville treated her, and her in kind, had him seeing red. He’d not thought he had competition in winning her affections, and he didn’t like it. A duke against a viscount? The duke had an edge.
He lit a cheroot and enjoyed the calming effect it had on him.
“You left rather suddenly.” He recognized her soft voice without looking.
The calm didn’t last. “I was bored.”
“Playing cards?”
“Not everyone loves cards,” he grumbled.
“I’ll leave you to your thoughts.”
He spun around and reached for her hand. His heart sank when all his hand touched was air. “No. Please don’t. I’d love your company.”
She moved closer to him so they stood side by side. Georgiana’s skirts touched his legs. The connection soothed him from something he didn’t know he needed soothing from. Except he was jealous of the easy friendship she shared with Amberville. The man would be perfect for her, and he hated that. “Would you care for a stroll through the gardens? They look passably lit.”
“Yes.”
He didn’t trust himself to offer his arm, so instead he motioned for her to begin, and he fell in step beside her. “The weather is warm this evening, and the sky is full of stars.” Could he sound any more pathetic?
“Yes. But we should not stay out long. The hunt starts at ten in the morning.”
“Yes.” He stopped, and she stopped. They looked into each other’s eyes. Hers were guarded. His eyes probably frightened her with the desire they must reflect. Desire overwhelmed him, a need so intense it startled him. He reached for her gloved hand and tugged her toward him. The sound she made had him smile and relax…some.
His free hand traveled up her back, across her shoulder, and cupped her cheek. All the while, he believed she held her breath. He smiled wider, thankful that he affected her and the attraction wasn’t one-sided. Not that he had thought it was. But he’d been unsure and insecure since Amberville entered the picture.
“Do you have feelings for Amberville?” Bloody hell, he didn’t mean to blurt that out.
She stiffened and averted his eyes. “Yes.”
His insides sank. His stomach recoiled.
Her eyes met his again. “Not in the way you mean. He’s like a second father to me. My father would prefer me to feel differently. He’d like me to marry him.”
Instant relief. His hand caressed her cheek, his thumb traveling across her bottom lip. “You do not wish to marry him?
“I believe I made that clear.”
He lowered his head and gently placed his lips on hers, and suddenly his world righted. He finally knew where he belonged. To whom he belonged. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close to him, and he moaned and reveled in her softness against his body. He slipped his tongue inside her mouth and sampled her. She tasted of excitement and comfort. Her arms came around his neck, pushing her breasts against his chest. Someone moaned. It didn’t matter who. He was lost.
He deepened the kiss. He needed all of her. The noises she made had his blood boiling and his cock turning to iron. He pushed his hips into hers, wishing their clothing would disappear. “I want you.”
“Want you,” she whispered back.
Against the spinning of his emotions, he pulled back and kissed her lips one last time. He didn’t let her go completely, just loosened his hold. He had to. Otherwise, he’d take her right here in her father’s garden. And that was something he would hate himself for. She deserved better.
He rested his forehead against hers as they both gasped for breath.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
“For what,” she whispered back.
“For my early winnings.”
“Winnings?” she gasped, and stepped out from his arms, making him regret his choice of words.
“That kiss had nothing to do with winning the hunt. I believe a revised wager is in order.”
He grinned. “Oh, you do, do you?”
She did not look pleased with him. “Yes. If you win the bet, which you will not, I will kiss you.”
“But…”
“Do not interrupt. If I win the bet, you must dance one waltz with me at each function we are both attending until the Westfield Ball.”
Did she think that was a hardship? “Deal.”
She glanced over her shoulder and said, “Rest up for the hunt tomorrow. You will need it.”
Georgiana couldn’t sleep. She kept reliving the kiss with Blackstone and how his arms felt heavy, in a good way, wrapped around her. The way her body molded to his, as though they belonged together. The surprising softness of his lips and how they made hers tingle. She’d heard people used tongues to kiss and thought it sounded odd. It was not. It was…heavenly. She needed sleep if she planned to be at her best tomorrow. Not that she cared either way, whether she won or lost. In her way of thinking, she won regardless. A kiss or many waltzes. A girl should be so lucky.
“Morning, milady.” Georgiana’s maid entered the room and opened the drapes, letting in bright sunshine.
She moaned. “It can’t be morning already?”
“Yes, it is. I brought you a tray. No need for you to be with all those men bragging about the hunt and who will win.” She laughed. “We both know you and the duke will.”
As she nibbled the food on her tray, not tasting anything, she thought she might not win today. Her father was an excellent grouse hunter. And for some reason, she woke up this morning not caring about the hunt. Blackstone was having a strange effect on her thoughts and body, which was presently warm. She would probably beg off if they weren’t paired up. She couldn’t abandon the duke.
“Mary, thank you. As usual, you thought correctly.”
Georgiana dressed in long, blue, wide-legged breeches that appeared to be a skirt when she stood with her legs together—her father’s concession to her wearing men’s riding pants today. A white, long-sleeved blouse, blue riding jacket, and hat to match completed the look.
She made her way downstairs, her insides jumbling as she entered the foyer where all the men were waiting. Oh dear, was she late? Were they all staring?
Amberville approached. “Good morning, Lady Georgiana. Are you ready to begin? Our mounts are right outside, as well as the dogs.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“Do you remember your father’s rules? We have only four hours to return here, or we will forfeit the prize.”
Had she remembered that detail? No, she hadn’t. She was hardly surprised to find Aunt Clara on her horse, waiting for them.
“I’m chaperoning. But don’t let me hold you up. Go ahead, and I’ll be along at my leisure.”
All three hunting parties left, led by a servant and two hounds on a rope. She knew there would be plenty of walking once the hounds picked up a scent. The birds wanted to burrow beneath shrubbery. When the dogs frightened them, they would take to the sky. Georgiana needed to be dismounted and on solid ground to shoot. Taking aim and shooting on horseback didn’t work well for her.
After several hours—her body sore and her feet protesting all the walking on sticks, twigs, and rocks—they made their way back to the estate with eleven grouse hanging off Amberville’s and her saddle. Not a bad day’s kill. If each party did as well, the cooks would have plenty of grouse to prepare.
As she made her way to the front of the estate, her heart seized at the sight of Blackstone and her father being congratulated on their kill count. One glance at their birds, and she knew she’d lost the wager. Was she upset? No, she was relieved to know she would forfeit a kiss to the viscount. A kiss she relished thinking about participating in again. She shivered at the thought of his mouth on hers again—a most welcome shiver. As for the waltzes, she believed she could convince him to dance with her when the time came.
“My dear Georgiana,” her papa said with a big grin, holding up dead birds. “We bagged eighteen.”
Amberville assisted her down from her mount. “Congratulations, Papa. It appears you and Blackstone have won the competition.”
“Splendid!” He handed off his birds to the first servant he saw. “Have cook prepare these for dinner.”
Her neck tingled as she concentrated on her papa, because she knew without looking that Blackstone watched her in silence. He was probably planning where and when to collect his wager. She tried not to turn and look at him, but she lost the struggle. The brown of his eyes smoldered, sending heat to her cheeks. He grinned like a schoolboy caught doing something naughty, but nothing he regretted.
“Lady Georgiana,” Blackstone said. “I look forward to tonight’s festivities. Your father has informed us that dinner will be served in the formal gardens, as the weather is favorable.” He bowed, turned, and strolled off like a man who’d won a bet.
She sighed, excused herself, and went to her room to bathe and take a nap to rest up for the festivities. And one crucial upcoming event she couldn’t get out of her mind.
Her forfeit.
His winnings.
The kiss.
Between the warm bath water and her heated blood, she needed a splash of cool water to settle the inferno that seemed to plague her entire body. Having never experienced anything like this before—except several other times when she was in his company, close company—was she to believe this was desire? That she desired Blackstone?
Thankfully, she read gothic novels and knew all about desire. Or what the writer writes about their impression of desire. And the physical attraction between two people. Was she attracted to the viscount? Honestly, the answer was that she thought so. Having never experienced carnal interest in another human being, she could only surmise the feelings. But if it meant every time you were in that person’s company, you couldn’t take your eyes off them, stop thinking about them, or dream about them— then, yes, she was attracted to Blackstone. Was he attracted to her? Oh yes, if the look in his eyes after the hunt meant anything. Flames practically flew out of his eyes.
Dried off and donning a shift, she climbed between the cool sheets and closed her eyes to visions of him riding and hunting. Looking and being larger than life.
Phillip was on edge. He’d won the wager, yet he couldn’t explain the unsettledness running inside his nerves for some reason. Guaranteed another kiss with Georgiana should have him exploding with excitement. Deep down inside, he knew the reason. She meant more to him than a wager. Much more. Betting on a kiss felt cheap as if one made such a wager with a Cyprian. After much contemplating, he decided he’d forfeit his prize. That was not to say he wouldn’t kiss her, and soon. But it would be when he deemed it the perfect time.