Page 55 of A Wicked Game

As he’d done so many times before, he hid the truth by making it sound like a joke. “Of course. You’ve bewitched me for years. I’m completely under your spell.”

She snorted.

Unbidden, his brain produced an image of what she would have looked like in that stream, a soaking wet shift clinging to her body. The material, obligingly, would have been transparent: he would have seen the tight buds of her nipples, seen every wonderful feminine curve.

He’d have put his hands on her and pulled her weightless body to him in the water, would have pressed his cold lips to hers. And then he would have dragged her over to the riverbank, stripped off their clothes, and warmed them both up by—

His body hardened and he cursed his overactive imagination. He really needed to make such fantasies a reality.

“We should make another bet,” he said. “Loser has to take a swim in the river at Trellech.”

She shook her head. “No. No more bets. I heard what you said to the Aunts the other day.”

“What was that?”

“You declared, publicly, that you were looking for a wife. Which means it’s high time you stopped making inappropriate bets with me and started considering who you think is suitable wife material.”

You’re suitable wife material.

He bit back the impulsive words. She wasn’t ready to hear them, not yet. Her body might be half-convinced, but she was inherently stubborn, and her intellect was still coming round to the idea.

“I like making inappropriate bets with you,” he said instead. “Especiallywhen you win.”

As he’d intended, she flushed at the reminder that she’d been the one to insist on kiss number three. Unfortunately, the only thing he could do now was to hope she came to want more of the same. From him, and only him.

“No more bets,” she repeated sternly.

He was about to argue when a carriage clattered to a stop outside. Her father emerged, helped down by a footman, and Harriet rushed to open the door. Morgan moved quietly to one side of the shop so as not to interrupt their reunion.

The easy affection between Harriet and her father had always been a source of wonder to him. His own sire, the late Earl of Powys, had been an undemonstrative parent who’d paid little heed to his children unless he thought they needed scolding. He’d sent all four of them, Carys included, off to boarding school, and rarely bothered conversing with them during the holidays. Unfilial he might be, but Morgan really didn’t miss the old bugger.

“Father, you’re back!” Harriet bustled to help him out of his coat and scarf. Taking him by the arm, she guided him gently around the various furniture obstacles in hispath and settled him in his customary chair in the back room.

Henry Montgomery made a big show of shooing her away, but it was clear he enjoyed the attention. “Yes, yes, I’m back. No need to fuss.”

“How did your visit with Mister Bronte go?”

The older man drew his rug more firmly over his lap. “Well, as to that, I’ve come to a decision. Doctor Saunders is going to perform the same surgery on me.”

Harriet’s gasp was audible, even from where Morgan stood. “He is? But that’s wonderful! What made you change your mind?”

“I’ve been selfish,” Henry admitted gruffly. “I’ve let my own fears turn me into a burden. An unnecessary one, as it happens.”

“You could never be a burden!” Harriet protested.

“Pfft. You’re a young woman, Harriet, with your whole life ahead of you. You shouldn’t have to consider me whenever you make a decision. You’ve always wanted to visit Paris, Rome. With Bonaparte defeated, and the windfall from the gold, you can do that. As long as you’re not looking after me.”

Harriet gave him a fond hug. “I don’t blame you in the slightest for being reluctant to have the operation. Anyone would be.”

“Well, Mister Bronte explained the process and his own recovery very well. He didn’t make exaggerated claims about it being a miracle cure, but he did put my fears to rest. No surgery is without risk, but he made me see that the potential benefits by far outweigh it.Nothing ventured, nothing gained, as they say.”

“Have you set a date? Where do you have to go?” Harriet sounded a little dazed.

“Once I realized there was no point putting it off any longer, I asked Doctor Saunders when he could see me. I’m going to his surgery on Harley Street tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow!”

Harriet’s father smiled at her obvious shock. “Might as well get it over and done with. I’ll only sit and fret about it, otherwise.”

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