A Hellion In Her Bed Part 21

They walked to the dance floor in silence, both aware that others were nearby. Only when the music started and he had her in his arms did she venture to speak.

"I suppose you want the truth now."

"What a novel idea," he said coldly. "Yes, let's do have the truth. If you even know what such a thing is."

"Jarret, please don't be angry."

"All this time, you've played me for a fool-"

"No! I believed-I still believe-that investing in pale ale will save the brewery. But I knew you'd never consider helping us if you thought-"

"That your brother was incompetent? That he'd destroyed his own company by drinking himself into a stupor every day?" He cast her an icy glance, not caring one whit that half of the dancers in the a.s.sembly room were straining to see what was going on between them. "You're d.a.m.ned right I wouldn't have considered it."

He swung her into a turn so swiftly that she nearly stumbled, and he had to force himself to pay attention to the music, to keep his fury in check. It felt like a herculean task, which was astonishing. He'd always prided himself on being able to control his temper.

When he could speak again, he hissed, "Plumtree Brewery depends on me not to take unnecessary risks and not to drag it into the same pit your brother has dragged his company into. If you think I'll go along with your idiocy now that you've lured me up here with your sad tale of a sick brother, you're out of your mind."

"Lured you here!" Her eyes flashed at him. "You're the one who suggested that wager. The wager you lost. The wager you've apparently decided to renege on."

His temper ratcheted higher. "That wager was based on false pretenses, as you well know. As far as I'm concerned, that makes the whole b.l.o.o.d.y thing null and void."

They danced in silence for several moments, him going through the motions and her fixing her gaze beyond his head as they stepped and swirled and whirled in time, like two automatons turned by metal gears.

Then she shifted her gaze to lock with his. "What if we were to make the wager again-only this time, without the false pretenses?"

The steely glint in her eyes told him she was serious. And the instant response of his pulse told him he was just as swayed by the idea as he had been last time.

Angry at the way his body betrayed him, he opened his mouth to tell her to go to h.e.l.l. Instead he said, "What do you mean?"

But he knew what she meant. Why was he letting her think he'd even consider it?

Because after everything, he still wanted her in his bed. And he deserved to have her, too! She'd lied to him and manipulated him. He at least ought to get something out of this d.a.m.ned mess.

"The exact same wager," she replied. "If I win our card game, you help Lake Ale with the East India Company. If you win, I ..." She cast a furtive glance around them.

He bent close to whisper, "Share my bed for a night. Say it."

She turned her head the half inch it took to whisper, "I'll share your bed for a night. Same terms as before."

He drew back to stare at her. Her cheeks were pink, but that stubborn chin of hers was set defiantly. His temper flared again at the realization of how much she was willing to sacrifice for a brewery.

But it's no more than Gran was willing to sacrifice. Annabel has a family to save, too.

When that thought roused unwanted sympathy, he scowled. She wouldn't give up her innocence to a scapegrace like him without being sure of getting something for it. This had to be some new scheme ...

"An excellent plan, my dear. Either way, you get what you want. If you win, you gain my help with the brewery. And if I win, you go running to your brother about how I've ruined you, and next thing I know I'm wearing a leg shackle, and I'll have you and your brother's brewery on my hands for good."

She gaped at him. "What a horrible thing to say! I would never-"

"No? And why should I believe that, pray tell?"

Her gaze dropped to his cravat, the color of her cheeks deepening. "Because it's impossible to ruin what is already ruined."

She'd said it so softly he wasn't sure he'd heard her right. "What?"

"Don't make me repeat it," she told him, sotto voce. "I had a fiance, remember? We were young and impetuous and in love. You can guess the rest." She brought her gaze up to his. "Why do you think I've never married? Because no man wants an unchaste bride."

He searched her face, but the very fact that she was telling him this lent it truth. And she'd been far too comfortable with their intimacies, too knowledgeable about things no virgin should know.

"So," he said, trying to take it in, "more lies are unmasked."

Her eyes flashed fire. "I never lied to you about that. You never asked. You merely a.s.sumed that I was ... what you thought."

The words made him grit his teeth, but she was right. She'd never once claimed to be an innocent. And even if she had, he could hardly blame her. That wasn't something a woman revealed about herself to just anyone.

"Does your brother know?" he asked.

"Yes."

"How could he-"

"I've said all I'm going to say on that subject." Her blush had spread to the tops of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s-her quite exposed b.r.e.a.s.t.s, which he suddenly realized he could plunder to his heart's content if he accepted her proposal. And won the card game.

d.a.m.n, how could he be considering this? Making foolish wagers with her had already landed him in trouble once.

And yet ...

This was his chance to extract payment for her lying to him, for scheming to bring him here in the first place. And it wasn't really a risk this time, because he would make sure the odds were stacked in his favor.

"So are you willing?" she whispered.

"I have some conditions."

Her eyes widened.

"This time we play piquet."

"Why?"

"That should be obvious. It relies far more on skill than chance." And piquet was his game. His eyes narrowed on her. "Do you know how to play?"

"I do," she said, but her voice quavered.

Good. It was about b.l.o.o.d.y time he got some advantage.

He tightened his grip on her waist. There was no way in h.e.l.l he would lose this game. There'd be no distractions, no Masters and Gabe making remarks that tore his attention from the cards.

"And we play one game only," he went on. "Winner takes all. I've already wasted enough time on this scheme of yours as it is."

She lifted her chin. "All right."

There it was again-the understated "all right" that never failed to turn his blood to fire. "You agree to both conditions?"

She nodded.

They took another turn about the floor as he weighed his choices. He could throw her proposal in her face, walk out of here tonight, and not look back. But when he won, he'd finally have some compensation for her deception. And he wanted that compensation. Christ, how he wanted it.

What's more, he deserved it, for all the times she'd kissed him and let him caress her without its meaning anything to her. She'd made it quite clear he wasn't acceptable as a husband, yet she'd refused to let them continue as lovers. And with no reason, given she was unchaste. So she'd probably been trying to reel him in, to get him so besotted with her that he wouldn't care what lies she'd told him. And that possibility infuriated him.

"I do have one request before you give me your answer."

"You don't get a request," he clipped out.

"The only time that Rupert and I ... Well, he took ... precautions against certain eventualities. If you win the wager, I would ask that you do the same."

"I can do that," he said.

She swallowed. "Does that mean you accept the wager?"

He paused, but it was a sure thing. And he'd never been one to pa.s.s up a sure thing.

"Yes." The waltz was coming to an end, and they probably would not get another chance to speak privately. "Where and when will this game take place?"

"One a.m. at the office in the brewery. We had to let our evening staff go, so Lake Ale will be closed, but I have a key." The music stopped and they stepped back, her to curtsy, him to bow. "I'll wait for you inside."

As he took her arm to lead her from the floor, she murmured, "And I would appreciate it if you could try not to be seen on your way there."

"Don't worry. No one will ever learn of this from me."

"Thank you. I'm still considered respectable by my neighbors here."

Her tone p.r.i.c.ked his conscience, but he frowned it away. As far as he was concerned, she'd made her bed. And now that she'd done so, he d.a.m.ned well was going to lie in it.

ANNABEL STARED OUT the window as the Lake family coach lurched homeward. She'd averted disaster, but for how long? She'd always been good at piquet, but good enough to beat Jarret? And if she lost ...

The leap in her pulse made her scowl. He shouldn't still have this effect on her, not after his sharp words and angry looks. But beneath his anger, desire had simmered, that ever-present desire that tugged an answering need to the surface of her very skin.

She groaned. Admit it. You want him in your bed.

All right, she did. Which made absolutely no sense. One of these days, she simply must learn not to crave things that were bad for her. Like certain h.e.l.lions who knew exactly how to turn a woman to pudding with a dark glance.

It hadn't helped that he'd been wearing evening attire tonight for the first time since she'd met him. Seeing him so finely dressed had made something flip over inside her chest. Next to the tradesmen, with their ostentatious figured waistcoats and pompaded hair, his exquisitely tailored black tailcoat, simple white satin waistcoat, and snowy linen had fairly screamed his station as a polished man of rank, bred for greater things than socializing with the brash brewers of Burton.

Yet he'd never once showed, by word or deed, that he was aware of the difference. If not for his sophisticated bearing and his elegant clothing, no one would have guessed he wasn't just another brewer. She'd heard snippets of his conversation, and he'd held his own with the clannish brewers in a way that Hugh had never been able to. Or her.

"Lord Jarret seems a good enough sort," Hugh said, across from her. "Knew a bit more about the brewing business than I expected. He stared at me rather oddly when I said I was looking forward to our meeting in the morning, though. That is when we're going to meet, isn't it?"

"Yes." But only if I beat him at piquet.

She forced a smile for her brother's benefit. True to his word, Hugh had only had punch to drink, which technically wasn't spirits, though she suspected it had contained a dram or two of brandy.

"He seemed awfully interested in you, Annie," Hugh said. "Asked me about Rupert. Wanted to know what sort of man he was."

That startled her, until she realized that Jarret had probably just been trying to determine if she was telling the truth about her chast.i.ty.

Humiliation rose in her again. How could he think she would lure him into her bed just to trap him into getting leg-shackled? Beastly fellow. Though he was probably used to women doing such awful things in the city.

What had he said? I'll have you know that there are hundreds of women who would kill to have that life. She couldn't blame them. The idea of being his wife ...

Ridiculous! She wouldn't want to raise a family with him, even if he did want to marry her. And he didn't. He certainly wouldn't now, after how she'd lied to him.

Remembering the fury in his eyes as they danced, she shivered. He'd been so contemptuous, so cutting. He'd arranged tonight's encounter with such ruthless determination that she feared how he would treat her if he won. She didn't know if she could bear having him bed her in anger.

"Quite frankly," Hugh went on, "I wasn't sure what to tell him about Rupert, given what happened. I finally just said he was a war hero. That much is true, anyway."

A war hero. She used to hate that phrase, knowing at what cost Rupert's heroism had come. Now it merely made her sad to think of how little being a hero meant when one lost one's chance at a life.

"I think his lordship is interested in Annabel," Sissy said, with a sly glance at her.

A bitter laugh stuck in her throat. Oh yes, he was interested. He might have lost any soft feelings for her, but he still l.u.s.ted after her, thank heaven.

"Well, she could do worse, I suppose," Hugh said in a gruff voice. He tugged nervously at his shirt cuffs, then set his shoulders as if coming to a decision. "Annie, I want you to be at the meeting tomorrow."

She glanced at him in surprise. Hugh had never allowed her to attend any sort of brewery meeting. It was fine for her to keep the place running, but heaven forbid she should be in on the planning for anything. "Why?"

He shrugged. "You're the one who got him here. He might be ... more comfortable if you're there."

Little did he know. If she won tonight, Jarret would hate her in the morning, and if she lost he would not be there in the morning.

"That's fine." She'd deal with that tomorrow.

For now, she had to concentrate on slipping out of the house unseen. It had been midnight when they'd left the town hall; she had little time.

Fortunately, Hugh and Sissy didn't seem inclined to linger, especially when she announced that she was exhausted and meant to retire after she fetched a book from the study. A deeply felt longing pierced her when Hugh murmured something, and Sissy giggled before they strolled up the stairs arm in arm.

She sighed and dismissed the servants, telling them she'd lock up. She waited until she was sure no one was around, then let herself out the garden door with her key.

The brewery was a short walk from the house. Fortunately, no homes lay near it, just a stables and a cooperage that was closed for the night. It was unlikely anyone would notice either her or him entering, but she did wish that Papa hadn't been so adamant about lighting the street with gas lamps. She felt very exposed.

When a large form stepped out of the shadows near the back entrance to the brewery, her heart jumped into her throat. Until she realized it was Jarret.

Then she saw his eyes, and her pulse pounded even more furiously. Because this wasn't the Jarret who'd teased her at the market, or the Jarret who'd brought her pleasure with drugging kisses, or even the Jarret who'd been furious at her tonight.

This Jarret bore an expression carved in cold stone. Between the time she'd last seen him and now, he had hardened his heart against her. He was clearly determined to revenge himself on her.

G.o.d help her if she didn't win their game. Because this Jarret was not a man she would want in her bed. Not tonight. Not ever.