Page 38 of The Duke of Ice
The ladies drew first. Violet went last, her gaze meeting Nick’s as she pulled her card. Her features didn’t betray her fortune. It was really too bad that she didn’t like to play cards—she’d be a formidable adversary.
The gentlemen went next, and Nick, like Violet, drew last. A king, which meant he’d likely be first up. He tensed waiting for everyone to reveal their card.
“Won’t be me going first,” Seaver said. “I’ve the two of clubs.”
He tossed his card on the table. Everyone else revealed theirs, and Nick’s eye immediately went to Violet’s—the queen. He nearly laughed, but checked to see if any of the other women had queens. They didn’t, and no kings either.
“Looks like it’s you and Lady Pendleton,” Simon said. His voice carried a hint of something.
Nick snapped his head toward his friend and detected the glimmer of a smile in his gaze. He was enjoying this.Hewas playing matchmaker. And he had his sights set on Nick and Violet.Bloody hell.
Nick wanted to be angry, but his pull toward Violet was too strong. He’d felt it last night and again today when Simon had asked if it would be distressing for him to pursue her. Nick had suppressed his reaction—he’d been jealous. Shockingly, blood-boilingly, desperately jealous.
The realization shook him to the core.
“Who’s to be the crier?” Simon asked.
“Why not Mr. Seaver since he won Kiss the Nun?” Adair suggested.
With everyone in agreement, Violet and Nick moved to the center of the room.
“Is this awkward?” she whispered.
“No.” His pulse quickened. Should he kiss her or should he fail?
His mind screamed the latter. And really, that was for the best. Jealousy aside, he and Violet had no future, not when their past was so painful.
And yet when they knelt with their backs to each other, he caught her scent of rose and an earthy spice. It was wholly feminine yet slightly wild. He hadn’t smelled a rose in the past eight years without thinking of her. His body reacted, heating at her proximity.
“Make ready,” Seaver said.
Nick looked over his right shoulder and felt the air move as she looked over her left.
“Present.”
Nick leaned close to her cheek. He could feel her warmth, and his skin tingled.
“Fire.”
He moved closer, but she sprang up. Instinctively, he reached for her, his arm curling about her waist. He pulled her back down. To stop her from hitting the floor, he spun to his back and sprawled, bringing her down on top of him. He cupped the side of her face and kissed her, his lips sliding over hers for a brief but delicious moment.
“The cheek,” she murmured, her gaze locked with his.
He leaned up and brushed his mouth against the soft flesh of her cheek. His lips lingered perhaps a second too long, but he didn’t care. Desire coursed through him, and for the first time in years, he feltalive.
“Well done!” Simon called, applauding. The others joined in. “Shall we draw again?”
Nick rolled Violet to her side, his arm cradling her from fully touching the floor. Her eyes never left his, the intensity in their brown-green depths stoking his hunger.
He took her hands and reluctantly stood, drawing her up with him. She took her hands from his, but didn’t look away.
“You don’t need to draw for this round.” Simon came toward them. “But you do need to move,” he whispered near Nick’s ear.
Shaken from his rapturous stupor, Nick moved to the side of the room. Violet followed him but didn’t stand too close as the next players—Miss Colton and Mr. Woodward—took their places.
Nick stole a glance at her profile and wondered if the kiss had affected her as much as it had him. Then he asked himself why it would matter. As he’d determined earlier, they had no future because of their past.
What about the present?
