A Hellion In Her Bed Part 5

Lord Gabriel glanced from her to his brother, then broke into a grin. "Do enlighten us, madam. What is it you'd like to play for?"

With a sc.r.a.pe of his chair, Lord Jarret stood. "If you'll excuse us for a moment, gentlemen ..." Grabbing her by the arm, he hustled her out into the hall.

As she jerked free of him, he said, "What in the h.e.l.l do you think you're up to now, Miss Lake?"

She met his furious gaze steadily. "The same thing as earlier. I want your help. I'm willing to play cards to get it."

"Women like you don't belong in a tavern."

"You know nothing about women like me. All you know is this frivolous life of gambling and drinking and wenching." He was just like Hugh had become, selfish and irresponsible. "You couldn't even stay away from it long enough to speak to your grandmother on Lake Ale's behalf !"

"You were following me?" he said, his voice incredulous. "Have you lost your mind? This part of London is a dangerous place for-"

"Oh, spare me your concern. It's as insincere as your promises."

His expression grew stony as he crossed his arms over his chest. "For your information, I plan to speak to Gran in the morning."

"You told me to return in the morning, remember? And I daresay that after drinking with your friends all night, you'd have forgotten your promise. If you haven't already."

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "So you decided to gain my compliance by gambling with me?"

"Why not? I play cards very well. Your friend Pinter seems determined to leave, and you did say you wanted a challenge."

"I suppose you want to play for something having to do with your scheme regarding Lake Ale."

"Yes. I want your agreement that Plumtree Brewery will help us. That's all."

He glared at her. "All? You have no idea what you're asking."

"I'm asking you to help me save my brother's brewery. Of course, you would probably rather see a compet.i.tor fail."

"Don't be absurd. I don't care about some half-pint brewery in Burton. Plumtree is five times the size of Lake Ale."

"Which means you have no reason to refuse us your help."

A grim smile crossed his lips. "What if I win? What do I get out of this little high-stakes game?"

She slowly slipped her mother's ring off her finger, fighting not to show how much it meant to her. "This. It's solid gold with rubies and diamonds. It's worth at least two hundred pounds. That should make it worth your while."

He uttered a mirthless laugh. "A ring. You think that's equivalent."

"It's a lucky ring," she said, desperate to make him agree to the game. "Whatever brew I make while wearing it comes out splendid."

"I'm sure that adds to the ring's value tenfold," he said sarcastically.

He was so annoying. "Fine, if you're afraid to play whist with me ..."

His eyes turned the same cobalt blue that she'd noticed earlier when he was tasting her ale. "So you think you can best me at whist, do you?"

"Absolutely," she said, though she wasn't at all sure. But she had to try.

He stepped closer, until he loomed over her like some giant in a circus. "The only way I'll agree to your wager is if we make it more personal."

She swallowed. "Personal?"

"The match will be between us-two-handed whist. The first one to win two out of three games wins the match and the wager."

"Very well."

"I'm not finished. If you win, Plumtree Brewery will join Lake Ale in getting into the India market." A sinful smile curved up his lips. "But if I win, you warm my bed tonight."

Chapter Four.

Jarret could tell he'd shocked her. Good. The woman needed some sense knocked into her. If his sisters had attempted something like this, he would have locked them up and thrown away the key.

Follow him through the streets of London alone at night? Sit in a tavern with no protection? Challenge him to cards? The woman was too reckless for her own good. Fetching and desirable, but reckless as the very devil.

She wouldn't be insane enough to accept his wager, though. And when he escorted her back to wherever she was staying, he'd tell her companions to keep a better eye on her.

She tipped up her chin. "I accept your offer."

"The h.e.l.l you do!"

Her lips thinned into a stubborn line. "So you were lying again? You weren't serious about the wager?"

"I wasn't lying the first time!" he practically shouted.

"But you were just now?"

The prim tilt of her head set her curls bouncing. For some reason, that maddened him even further. He had to stop letting her get under his skin, d.a.m.n it. "You, madam, need a keeper."

"And I suppose you're volunteering for the position," she said archly. "But you don't own a cage large enough to hold me, my lord."

He thrust his face into hers. "You're willing to risk ruin, the loss of your reputation and virtue, the hope of ever marrying, on the off chance that you'll beat me at cards and win my help with Lake Ale?"

An odd look came over her face. "Desperate times call for desperate measures."

Sucking in a heavy breath, he glanced away from her. He understood desperation. He'd felt it quite a bit as a boy. And he'd spent many a long night playing cards with men who, down to their last sixpence, prayed that the next turn of the card would recoup their fortunes.

But he'd never seen desperation in any woman but his mother. It unsettled him.

"Besides," she added, "I happen to think it's not an 'off chance.' I'm quite a good whist player, if I do say so myself."

He snorted. Right. Some provincial brewster was going to best him at cards. That would be the day.

Still, he shouldn't risk it, not with Plumtree in its present state. He would never even have suggested the wager if he'd thought she would accept. He had no right to wager the brewery's very future.

"Of course," she went on, "if you're afraid you'll lose-"

"There's no chance in h.e.l.l you'll beat me," he retorted.

Why was he even worrying? He could win a game of two-handed whist blindfolded. Then Miss Lake would trot back home to Burton a wiser woman.

A ruined woman.

He ignored the twinge of his conscience. If she wanted to throw everything away for this, what did he care? It would serve her right. Then she wouldn't continue to do foolish things like accost men in their offices or follow them to taverns.

And G.o.d knows he would enjoy it.

"Very well," he said. "We'll play for the stakes agreed upon."

To his surprise, relief crossed her pretty features. "Thank you." Sudden mischief glinted in her eyes. "I promise not to beat you too badly. I wouldn't wish to embarra.s.s you before your friends."

A laugh erupted from him despite everything. G.o.d, she was a piece of work.

When they reentered the tavern main room, it was to find Masters taking money from other fellows, while Pinter lounged against a post, scowling at the proceedings. Word must have already traveled down the street that a woman had challenged Hetty Plumtree's grandson to a card game, for the place was busier now.

"What's all this?" Jarret asked as he held out Pinter's empty chair for Miss Lake, then took Masters's seat across from her.

"Masters bet that you would agree to let Miss Lake play," Gabe remarked. "Pinter and I said you wouldn't. Odds are five to one against."

"Well," Jarret said dryly, "for once Masters is right."

Several men around the tavern groaned. Masters pulled up another chair and began to count his winnings.

"Do I get a cut of your profits, Masters, since they depended on me?"

"Actually, they depended on my knowledge of you, and clearly I know you very well." Masters cut a sly glance at Miss Lake. "You can't turn down the chance to spend time with a pretty woman, no matter what the reason. Aren't you going to introduce us?"

With a sigh, Jarret performed introductions all around.

"Enchanted to meet you, Miss Lake." Masters flashed her a seductive smile. "We're delighted to have such a fetching addition to our gaming table."

Miss Lake rolled her eyes. "I see that you possess the same manners as Lord Jarret. It must make your mother so proud."

"He doesn't practice them on his mother," Jarret drawled, fighting a laugh. Women were usually easy prey for Masters. Nice to find one who wasn't. "She'd give him the sharp side of her tongue."

"Mother's tongue doesn't have any other side," Masters grumbled. "And now that my brother is happily married, she's been sharpening it on me much too often."

"Enough chitchat," Gabe said. "What are we playing?"

"I suspect that Jarret wants to play Irish whist," Masters drawled, using a vulgar euphemism for swiving.

"What's that?" Miss Lake asked.

Jarret glared at Masters. "Nothing. My friend is merely being an idiot." He shifted his gaze to Gabe. "And we aren't playing anything." Jarret shuffled the cards. "Miss Lake and I are playing two-handed whist."

"With what stakes?" Gabe asked.

"That's private," Jarret answered.

"Ah, a private wager." Masters smirked as he leaned back in his chair. "The best kind."

"Get your mind out of the gutter," Jarret snapped. "Miss Lake is a lady."

"And sitting right in the room-fancy that," Miss Lake said. "If you have an insinuation to make, Mr. Masters, perhaps you should say it to my face."

Jarret glanced at her, surprised by her unruffled tone. Then he noticed that her hands, clasped together on the table, were trembling ever so slightly.

Good. She wasn't as self-composed as she seemed. Perhaps next time she'd think twice before agreeing to something as mad as this.

"No insinuation." Masters's gaze flicked between her and Jarret. "Just an observation."

"Perhaps you should take your observations off elsewhere," Jarret said. "Since it's private, there's really no reason for you lot to hang about."

Gabe laughed. "I'm not leaving, old boy. The night is young."

"And I wouldn't miss this for the world," Masters said.

"Suit yourself." At least he'd tried to get rid of their audience.

Jarret laid out the deck for her to cut. Then they both drew. When he lost, he handed her the deck to deal.

"Masters leaned back to address the men crowding round the table. "I'll offer five-to-one odds that the lady beats Lord Jarret."

He was mobbed by takers; clearly no one expected Miss Lake to win.

"You're betting against me, Masters?" Jarret asked, surprised.

"You've been winning all night. Surely it's time for your streak to end."

"Your loss, then." Jarret noticed that Pinter remained as well, leaning against the post with his arms crossed over his chest. "No reason for you to stay, Pinter," he said irritably. "Since we annoy you so much."

"As I recall, my lord, when you came in you said there was something you wished to discuss with me later."

d.a.m.n, he'd forgotten about that.

"So I'm happy to wait." Pinter cast a glance at Miss Lake. "And watch."

"Ah yes," Gabe said, "Pinter is ever the gallant when it comes to the ladies. He wouldn't risk leaving us alone with poor Miss Lake, for fear one of us might spirit her off to our lair."