Page 43 of A Wicked Game

Her counter-bet had come as a surprise. He’d hoped she was enjoying their game as much as he was, but perhaps hehadbeen pushing her too hard. She was a virgin, after all, and presumably still thought she should be saving that virginity for her future husband.

The idea thathecould be that husband clearly hadn’t yet occurred to her.

He still had work to do.

Her suggestion that she was only enduring his kisses because of the bet had stung, but he didn’t believe it for one minute. Harriet was no weak-willed debutante. If she truly hadn’t wanted him to kiss her that first time in the garden she would have kneed him in the groin or bitten his lip. She’d never been one to hide her displeasure. If she’d had a branch handy, she would have hit him with it. He traced the scar beneath his chin in fond memory.

And if she hadn’t wanted to continue the game tonight, she would have refused to have let him blindfold her. He would have stopped the moment she asked.

Surely she knew that?

Morgan frowned. Shedidknow that. Despite the fact that he was a Davies, she’d always trusted him when it came to important things like this.

He skirted a group of dancers and smiled vaguely at an acquaintance while his mind continued to turn.

She’d definitely enjoyed him kissing her breasts. Her fingers had clutched at his head and she’d arched her back, silently offering herself to his mouth. He hadn’t mistaken the little gasps of pleasure she’d made.

Perhaps it washerselfshe didn’t trust? Had the intensity of her own reaction shocked her? It had shockedhim, and he wasn’t even a virgin.

Morgan’s lips curved upward as a new explanation presented itself. Perhaps her desire to avoid kiss number three was less about the fact that she didn’t want him to kiss her, and more about her wanting him to kiss hertoo much.

If that was the case, then winning this race was critical. If Harriet won, there would be no more kisses. No more chances for him to demonstrate just how amazing making love together could be.

He longed to pleasure her with his mouth, to show hereverythingthey could do, but he wouldn’t take her virginity. He didn’t want her to feel like she had to marry him because he’d “ruined her.” She had to marry him because she loved him. As much as he loved her.

Proving their physical compatibility was only one part of convincing her to marry him, of course. Any good military strategist knew the importance of engaging an opponent on more than one front, and Harriet’sbrainneeded to be involved in the decision too.

Since she yearned for adventure, he’d been trying to think of ways to provide it. Ways that—naturally—included himself. Confronting Heron had been ideal: a low-risk way to show her how well they could work together even when theyweren’tin bed. They could be a team. Supporting and complementing each other.

Just as if they were married.

Chapter Nineteen

The following morning Morgan received a note from Harriet, along with one of her own maps of London, carefully folded. A circle had been penciled around a particular area in Holborn, and he squinted to read the name of the place she’d chosen for the race.

The note merely said:Eleven o’clock. Bleeding Heart Yard.

He chuckled. London certainly had some interesting place-names. Had Harriet chosen that one deliberately as the starting line? Was it a threat? Or a promise? If any woman could make his heart bleed, it would be her.

He’d seen her sneaky little smile when they’d shaken hands last night. For some reason she genuinely thought she could win this race and the fact that she’d clearly hatched some devious plan delighted him as much as it worried him.

Any other time he might have considered letting her win. He might have stayed behind her just to enjoy the sight of her delightful bottom jiggling around ahead of him.

But in this instance, he couldn’t afford to lose. Honor and chivalry be damned.

He wondered if she’d be wearing breeches again. She’d looked delicious dressed as a sailor.

His cock stiffened at the thought. God, no wonder the navy didn’t allow women on board. Nobody would get any work done at all.

She was already waiting for him when his coach arrived at the location, but to his surprise she wasn’t alone. Gryff stood with her, along with Maddie.

“What are they doing here?” he demanded as soon as he stepped down onto the cobbles.

“And good morning to you too!” Gryff chuckled.

“We’re here to support Harriet.” Maddie smiled. “And to act as race officials.”

“Speak for yourself,” Gryff said. “I’m here to see Morgan get beaten by a girl. Again. It’s always fun to watch you two each try to best the other.”

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