Page 43 of Every Rake Has A Silver Lining

Her gaze dipped to his card, and he took great care to turn it over as slowly as possible.

Her little rosebud mouth opened the tiniest bit, and he imagined probing inside with his tongue for a deep kiss.

“Now, that, my lady, is a satisfying win.” Before claiming his prize, he leaned back in his chair, enjoying his moment of victory.

“You don’t have to look so smug.”

“Do you mean as you did with your win? My, my, how the tables have turned.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, drawing his gaze to her breasts.

And lovely breasts they were. Full and round, the tops pushed up over her bodice.

“Are you going to take all day? Please get this over with,” she snarled.

“Now, now. A kiss is nothing to rush or endure. It is to be savored, like an expensive brandy, or fine chocolate. My only dilemma is where to kiss you.”

After rising from his seat, he moved over to her and touched her temple. “Here, perhaps?” His finger trailed a line to her jaw. “Or here? Maybe here?”

As his fingertip brushed the hollow of her throat, she shuddered.

Oh, he would definitely come back to that spot later. But first . . .

“I think I shall start here.”

When he lifted her hand, he kept his eyes trained on her face.

The trepidation in her eyes vanished, and her shoulders relaxed.

Until he turned her hand over and pressed his lips to her palm.

She drew in an audible breath.

He lingered for a moment, his tongue sliding over her soft skin that tasted sweet and a little salty. His kiss sketched a line to the pulse point on her wrist, which quickened beneath his touch, the scent of lilac filling his nostrils and arousing his desire.

Yet, he wasn’t the only one affected. The ice queen trembled. Perhaps she had a heart after all.

She jerked her hand away. “Enough! One kiss. You are taking liberties which I have not granted.”

“Then I shall have to win another hand . . . and another . . . and another. For there are many places I wish to kiss you.” If his face in any way evidenced the fire burning inside him, he would surely melt her icy heart with his gaze.

“I don’t want to play any longer.”

“You’re just afraid to lose.”

Oh, there was the glare he’d come to know and love. “I amnotafraid. Deal the damn cards and prepare to answer the most outrageous of questions.”

Hurried footsteps sounded out in the hall, followed by raised voices. Mid-deal, he stopped and, striding to the door, threw it open. A maid rushed past, carrying a large stack of towels.

He stepped into the hall. “What’s going on?”

“Her Grace is having her baby!” the maid called over her shoulder as she rushed down the hall.

Simon spun toward Charlotte, only to find her right behind him. Panic slid up his spine and grabbed onto his mind with sharp claws.

CHAPTER 13

What was wrong with the man? Charlotte stared at Simon’s absolute expression of terror. One would think he was the one about to become a father—or even the one to give birth.

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