Page 67 of A Wicked Game

“She can stay with Maddie and I,” Gryff offered immediately.

“That’s what I suggested, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She wants her own bed.”

“And you’re staying with her purely out of the goodness of your heart?” Gryff’s tone was deeply sardonic.

“Yes, actually. I’m not a complete barbarian. Despite what you two think about those of us who joined the navy, instead of the fusiliers.”

Rhys wrinkled his nose. “Even if youdon’tsleep with her, if anyone finds out you’ve stayed in the same house together, alone and unchaperoned, she’ll be ruined.”

“Nobody’s going to find out. But if they did, then I’d do the honorable thing and marry her, of course.”

Gryff opened his mouth to say something, but Rhys beat him to it.

“I don’t think she’d have you,” he said, with brutal simplicity. “I think she’d prefer ruination.”

Morgan tried not to wince. “Yes, well, since I have no intention of finding out, it’s a moot point.” He turned to Gryff. “You and Maddie can escort her home as planned. I’ll ride over to Bury Street later.”

Rhys gave a fatalistic shrug. “It’s your funeral.”

Morgan turned on his heel and went in search of a drink. God knows, he was going to need every ounce of fortitude he could get.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Harriet tried not to fidget as she waited for Morgan to arrive. The house seemed unnaturally quiet. The streets were rarely this deserted, even at past midnight; the night teemed with watchmen and thieves, revelers and whores. But tonight the world seemed to be holding its breath, right along with her.

She forced herself to exhale.

Gryff and Maddie had deposited her at her front door half an hour ago, and she’d bustled through the shop and up into the apartment, hurriedly lighting a fire in the drawing room grate, and another in her bedroom.

As agitated as she was, it was hard not to look at everything with a critical eye, as if seeing it for the first time. The rooms were elegant, but small compared to the rambling medieval chambers of Trellech, where Morgan had grown up. Still, it was nothing to be ashamed of. The furniture might not be the most fashionable, and some of the upholstery had certainly seen better days, but it was comfortable enough.

A sharp rap on the back door made her stomach somersault. She opened it to find Morgan on the step, his broad shoulders made even broader by a heavy greatcoat, his face shadowed by a tricorn hat. When she moved aside tolet him enter, she had the oddest thought that in crossing the physical threshold he was also crossing another, more intangible line. The point of no return.

Stop being so dramatic.

“Good evening. Again.” He swept past her, tugging the hat from his head and introducing a delicious waft of cold air, leather, and man.

“Good evening.” Her tongue felt too big for her mouth. Alarmed by his size, his overwhelmingmalenessin the narrow hall, she stepped back, holding her arms out automatically to take his coat.

He shrugged out of it, revealing the same evening clothes he’d worn earlier, and she hung it on a peg and beat a hasty retreat into the back room.

She hadn’t bothered to light a fire in here. A single oil lamp cast a warm puddle of light in one corner and she bustled over to it, trying to quell her nerves.

Any other night she would have been exhausted, desperate to fall into bed, but instead she felt energized, aware of every breath she took, every swish of her ball gown beneath the shawl she’d thrown around her shoulders.

Morgan, it seemed, shared none of her nervousness. He glanced around, completely at ease, then tilted his head to study her face.

“So, do you want to go straight to bed?”

He must have heard her indrawn gasp, because his mouth curved into that wicked smile she knew so well.

“What I mean,” he clarified, clearly trying not to laugh, “is that you must be tired. If you’ll just show me where you want me to sleep, you can go.”

Be brave. You want this. Take control.

Harriet met his gaze. “I’m not tired yet. Would you like a drink?”

She needed a little Dutch courage for what she was about to do. She’d never propositioned a man before.

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