Page 41 of Every Rake Has A Silver Lining

And Charlotte was determined to find out.

Cursed memory.Simon pushed it back into the dark recesses where it belonged. How dare Charlotte dredge it up! He should have known better. And how the hell had that Pandora’s box been pried open?

Oh, yes. The wine on the sheet.

Charlotte pointed at the rumpled bed. “If you think that’s going to fool anyone, you’re a bigger nodcock than I presumed you were.”

“Would you rather I slit my throat and make you a widow right away?” He hated the mocking tone in his voice, but he had to deflect her questioning.

She grinned at him, the harpy. “If you’re offering.”

How could she make his blood boil so much? And not just with anger. He hated how much he wanted her.

Pursing his lips, he tilted his head to the ceiling. “Um. I think not. It would make you too happy, and I relish spending more of my time on earth to vex you as much as possible.” He picked up the deck of cards and shuffled them. “Which speaking of. Shall we?”

“As you rightly noted, I’m out of markers.”

“Ah, yes. So you are. Perhaps we could wager for something else?”

“Such as?”

Oh, it was too tempting, especially given her challenging tone. He set the cards down and placed his hands on the arms of her chair, leaning toward her and boxing her in. “What about a kiss?”

“Ha! Not interested. That’s not prize enough for me.”

“I didn’t say it was if you won. That’s if I win—which I will,of course. But”—he pulled away—“In the spirit of fairness. Name your price.”

“If I win, you must answer any question I ask honestly.”

The determination in her luscious dark eyes gave him pause. She could call him a dolt, a rake, a scapegrace, and he would answer to them all. But in all things, he was an honest man.

The prospect was not appealing.

However, honest didn’t necessarily mean truthful. Although he hadn’t yet, hecouldcheat. “Very well. But one question, one answer at a time.”

“And only one kiss at a time. On the hand.”

“No specifying the body part. That is up to the winner’s discretion.” And he thought of many parts of her body he’d like to kiss.

As she mulled over the stakes, he stalked to the bed, sat down and patted the mattress next to him. “We could find other ways to pass the time.”

Ah, there was the bloom of pink on her cheeks, softening her usual austere expression.

“You are?—”

“Incorrigible?”

Rather than freeze him, her scowl heated his blood.

Narrowed, her dark eyes challenged him. “Deal the cards.”

Outside, the rain continued its patter against the windows, and occasionally, Charlotte glanced toward them, a flash of concern in her eyes at a distant sound of thunder.

“You think you’d be used to the rain, living in England.” He meant nothing nefarious in his idle comment, but her attention jerked back to him as if he’d struck her.

“Of course I’m used to it. What type of ridiculous statement is that?” She studied her cards, her lips twitching.

“Do you want another card?” he asked, even though he knew her answer.

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