Page 10 of A Wicked Game

“Only verbally,” she finished drily.

“That’s different. You give as good as you get. It’s an even playing field.”

She tilted her head in wry acknowledgment of the compliment.

Seized by the need to provoke her, he stretched and added, “I suppose I’m just going to have to find someotherway of ridding myself of all this pent-up frustration… Boxing, perhaps. Or fencing. Or some other form of enjoyable physical exertion.”

Her cheeks colored at the subtle innuendo, but she rallied gamely. “I’m sure you’ll have no difficulty in finding a partner willing to punch you. Or stab you.”

Or lie with you.

The words she’d left unspoken hung heavy in the air between them and a new idea struck him. He might not be able to punish “Mister Crusoe” using violent means, but there was no reason he couldn’t exact a little sensual retribution while coaxing Harriet toward the altar.

Her map had led to his hunger, thirst, and exhaustion. He could make her suffer the same torments, but with a decidedly carnal twist; she would hunger for his touch, thirst for his kisses, and emerge exhausted from his lovemaking.

It would be a mutually enjoyable revenge. She’d come to realize she couldn’t live without him—just as he couldn’t live without her.

The smile that curved his lips was impossible to hide, and Harriet eyed him with distinct suspicion.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

For years he’d attended every social event, every ball, every soiree, with the anticipation of seeing her, gleefully waiting to cross verbal swords. Her quick wit and ability to return his barbs delighted him. Sparring with her was a pleasure he never wanted to end.

He’d thought about bedding her countless times before he’d left for war, but the risks had been too great. A liaison between a Davies and a Montgomery, however discreetly conducted, was so scandalous that it would never have stayed a secret for long. Someone, somewhere, would have found out. He would have been expected to marry her, or been branded a despoiler of innocents. And if Harriet had refused his suit—which he was certain she would have—she’d have been ostracized by society as a soiled dove.

But things were different now.Hewas different now.

Two years ago he’d been too young and too restless to consider settling down. He’d wanted to see the world and have adventures. Now his seafaring days were done. He was lucky to be alive, and the only new adventure he wanted was the challenge of having Harriet as his wife.

His desire for her hadn’t decreased in the slightest. Whathadchanged was his willingness to make their situation permanent.

He couldn’t imagine a future without her in it. She was the only woman of his acquaintance who could make him instantly hard with just a look, a sly smile. She flayed him alive with her withering scorn, and he loved it.

If his constant thoughts of her when he was in prison hadn’t been enough to convince him that she was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, the recent weddings of his siblings—first Gryff, and then Carys—had impressed upon him the importance of committing to a permanent relationship and seizing happiness wherever it was found.

Even if that happiness came in the form of a woman he’d provoked for most of his life.

A woman who disapproved of him as much as she fought their mutual attraction.

He sent Harriet another furtive look across the carriage. Convincing her that he was serious was going to be his greatest task. How could he show her that what had started out as teasing rivalry had turned into something deeper?

As contrary as their relationship had become, simplyaskingher to marry him was out of the question. Any declaration of love would be greeted with disbelief, derision, or scorn. Possibly all three.

But neither of them was getting any younger, and hetook heart from the fact that she hadn’t married anyone else while he was away.

She had feelings for him, he was sure. She kept them deeply hidden, like a seam of gold buried beneath the earth, and since he was far too impatient to chip away at the rock face, something more drastic was in order. Somethingexplosive, to jolt them both free of the rut they were in.

That something would be to demonstrate how exceptional—and combustible—their physical attraction could be. Their kissing bet would give him that chance.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Harriet’s clipped demand snapped Morgan out of his reverie yet again.

“Like what?”

“As if you’d like to wring my neck.”

“I’d never intentionally hurt you, Montgomery. Which is more thanyoucan say.” He raised his chin and pointed to the pale scar visible where his neck just met his jawbone.

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