Page 195 of Ten Lords for the Holidays

She blinked as though to dissipate her thoughts, “You said we were going to wager.”

Right. No kiss yet then.

“Yes.” He dragged himself away and glanced around the room. It seemed to be a guest room, no doubt made up for one of the Winchester’s friends who was downstairs enjoying the dancing. “And we’ll play to see who wins.”

With efficiency born of necessity, because who knew how long he had before she came to her senses, he found candles and lit them from the fire that was heating the room for its nighttime occupants. As well as a plump bed covered with deep Perkin’s mauve blankets, there was a small table and two comfortable chairs by the fire.

Surely there would be a pack of cards somewhere? Or dice. He’d accept a children’s game. Fate could not be so cruel as to not provide him with something to wager on when everything he’d ever wanted was within reach.

“What are you looking for?” Her voice wasn’t altogether steady.

He glanced around, desperate. He had to engage her in a game before she thought better of this. There was a bunch of dried flowers in a vase on the mantelpiece, and he grabbed them.

“Your Grace, you have finally lost it,” Tam said. “What are you doing with dried carnations?”

He unceremoniously snapped off the heads and tossed them into the fire, where they burst into yellow flames.

“Admittedly they were ugly,” Tam commented as she tugged off her gloves, pinching her fingertips and easing the silk over her dainty hands. “But that is extreme. Is interior decorating usually your passion?”

“We’re going to draw straws.” He looked away, taking the brittle stalks and breaking them into short uneven lengths.

“What, exactly, are we drawing straws for?” she said faintly, sinking into one of the chairs beside the fire.

“What do you want?” Because ultimately that was what he would provide.

She considered, then shrugged. “Everything to go back to how it was.”

Mm. He didn’t think he could do that. Wasn’t even certain he’d want to, now they’d opened the possibility of her marrying. “If you win, I pay for yours and your family’s expenses for say, ten years? Until Thomas and Nigel have both graduated from university.”

Her mouth twisted, almost a pout of uncertainty that he longed to kiss from her face. “And if you win?”

He tilted his head. “I’m a duke. I need a duchess. And an heir.”

The word lay heavy in the space between them. A weight.

“I’d be a duchess, but not a doctor. And you’d take care of my family?”

He inclined his head. Obviously he had to seem as though this was a genuine wager. It wouldn’t do to seem like he wasn’t trying to get the best of this situation.

“If we suit,” she said quickly.

She was a practical person. Deeds, that was what was needed. Incontrovertible proof that he wanted her despite their volatile relationship so far.

“Yes. If we suit,” he agreed. They would.

“Why are you doing this?”

Was she ready to hear that he was in love with her? He considered her across from him. “Am I not allowed to want to help a friend?”

“Phsh. We’re not friends.”

“We could be. Call me Att, I’ll call you Tam.”

“Att.” She said his nickname experimentally, sending a bolt of lightning to his heart and cock.

“Three letters, just like Tam,” he pointed out. “So, the wager. Best of three?”

He set the lure, and could see how she was tempted despite herself, and though she’d seen his evading her question. The truth was, he was willing to lose the wager. Even if she married another, at least he’d know he’d done what he could.

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