Page 72 of Lord of Temptation
“A man would actually bet his ship on the chance of a random draw being in his favor?”
He shrugged. “He wanted the money that was sitting in the center of the table.”
“Did you cheat?”
“You’ll have to take another piece before I’ll answer that.” He watched the way she scrutinized him, saw the disappointment flicker in her eyes, and knew it had nothing to do with his not answering, but with her accurately deducing the truth. He had cheated, dammit. But then so had the men with whom he’d been playing. The encounter hadn’t been so much about the cards but about how well a man could manipulate them without being caught. As with all things, he was very skilled with manipulation. Hadn’t he gotten her aboard his ship when she had decided she didn’t want to be there?
“You renamed itRevenge.”
She hadn’t asked it as a question, and he was feeling magnanimous so he replied, “Yes.”
Two moves later he captured one of her pawns. “Remove your bodice.”
She narrowed those lovely eyes, pursed those succulent lips that he was aching to kiss. “The rules are that you ask a question—”
“Those are not the terms you laid out. You said I could ask of you what I would and you would comply.”
She scoffed. “Yes, but—” Then huffed. “Anyone of any intelligence would know what I meant.”
“I have no interest in playing a game of questions.”
“Have you no interest in me beyond my body?”
He merely arched a brow and quirked up a corner of his mouth in answer.
“I know. You’re a man. Of course, you’re interested in only my body.”
She was upset with him, but she held up to her end of the bargain, even if she nearly ripped off a button doing it. He did want to know the particulars about her but that was so dangerous, more dangerous than having her in his bed. It would create a bond, a deeper intimacy—
Who in the bloody hell did he think he was fooling? The intimacy had been forged in tears when he’d knelt beside her at the British cemetery, and what remained of his heart had nearly shattered alongside hers.
She made her move, garnered no captives, and while it was not very wise strategically, he snatched up another one of her pawns.
“I suppose a corset,” she said sharply.
He’d been considering a shoe, saving the best for last. Instead he heard himself ask, “What became of your mother?”
She might have looked less surprised if he’d said, “By the by, I normally wear women’s clothing when I prance about the ship.”
“She passed,” she finally said. “Three years ago. Influenza. Father had a fondness for her. I don’t know if he loved her. He barely adjusted his stride.”
Tristan didn’t like the thought that popped into his head: if he discovered tomorrow that she had died, he’d have no stride to adjust because the devastation of learning she was no longer in the world would drop him to his knees. These were odd feelings, only for now, only while he was in her presence. Once he was back on the sea, they would leave him. He needed them to leave him. How could he concentrate on his charts, the stars, the storms if he was constantly thinking of her?
“I believe that’s the reason he lost patience with my mourning,” she continued. “It must have been completely incomprehensible to him that I could have been sad and melancholy for so long over someone to whom I was never married.”
“Are you still sad and melancholy?” He didn’t think so, but then he held a tight leash on his emotions.
She gave him an impish smile. “You’ll need to take another piece if you want me to answer that question.”
As she positioned her knight, he considered that perhaps she had answered it. Would her eyes be sparkling with such mischievousness if she were still sad over her betrothed’s passing? Would she be entertaining Tristan now, matching each of his moves with skill and cunning?
And she was entertaining him, but then she always did. From the moment she’d walked into the tavern from the rain, she kept him on his toes, challenged him, intrigued him, made him resent the moment when she would walk away. Everything about her fascinated him. She could be doing little more than sitting there breathing and he was content to watch her.
She grabbed his rook, let her gaze travel over him, and his muscles tensed as he wondered what item of clothing she’d have him remove. Now the game was definitely going to begin to get interesting.
“When you were a boy,” she began, “before you left Pembrook, when you thought of your future, what did you see yourself becoming as a man?”
Another damned question? He’d been halfway toward his buttons. “I’m the second son of a nobleman; I didn’t give it a good deal of thought. My options were few.”
