Page 61 of A Game with the Rakish Duke
He couldn’t fight it any longer. And what was more, he didn’twantto fight it. He was laying down his weapons at her feet. He had no idea if she would accept the surrender. But as his grandmother had just reminded him, he would never know if he didn’t try.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Would you like a nightcap?” Thomas gazed at Catherine as they hovered at the top of the staircase in their home. “It has been quite a night.”
She hesitated. He could see she was tempted. The ride home had been thick with such sensual tension that it was a wonder they hadn’t started ripping at each other’s clothes in the carriage. They had talked little. Thomas had been content with just watching her intently. He knew that she was feeling the same way as him.
“Perhaps just one,” she demurred, smiling at him almost shyly. “Just to top off the night, as you say.”
He led her to his study. It was dark with just one candle burning and a small fire in the hearth. He stoked the fire and lit another candle, watching her covertly as she took a seat, gazing around.
“You know, I do not think I have ever seen such a sight as you this evening,” he said in a gentle voice as he poured the brandy, handing a glass to her. “You took my breath away.”
“Did I?” Catherine smiled at him sweetly. “Did Lady Isabella take your breath away as well?”
Thomas let out a bark of laughter. “You are truly jealous, are you not?”
Catherine glared at him. “I am not jealous,” she huffed. “I just do not appreciate you flirting with other ladies in a public place. It is humiliating…”
“Youarejealous,” he insisted in a teasing voice. “I already told you that I am not having an affair with the lady.”
Catherine flushed. Desperately, she looked around the room, as if seeking an escape. He could tell she didn’t like being teased about her jealousy. He was about to do it again, just to watch her squirm, when she suddenly put her hands on the table, looking him straight in the eye.
“I have an idea,” she chirped. “Let us play a game of cards.” She paused, her eyes holding a challenge.
Thomas suppressed his surprise. He hadn’t been expecting her to say that.
“I suppose so,” he said slowly before taking a sip of brandy. “I know how good you are at cards. I will have to watch myself. Which game?”
Catherine laughed. “I propose a new game,” she said in a slightly husky voice. “A game with a twist.”
Thomas crossed his legs, gazing at her. “Please, do go on. I am all ears.”
“Very well.” She took a deep breath. “I propose that every time someone loses, they must do what the winner commands.” Her eyes were intense as she gazed at him. “Without argument.”
Thomas felt a shiver of shocked delight. She was back to being her bold, adventurous self again. The woman he had first met at the gambling hell, dressed as a boy, risking everything. She seemed relaxed, almost playful, like a cat gently toying with its prey. The defensiveness that she had been wearing like a suit of armor ever since they got married seemed to have disappeared entirely.
He had never wanted her more than at this moment.
“I agree to your terms,” he said in a grave voice. “But you must realize the ramifications. You might not always be the winner, Catherine.”
She shot him a smoldering look. “I accept the risk.”
He took another sip of brandy before placing the tumbler down. He got up, retrieving a deck of cards from behind his desk, shuffling them without looking at her. He dealt the cards on the low table between them. They sat in silence as they looked at their hands before the game began.
They slipped into a game of piquet, jibing at one another easily. Thomas refilled their glasses. He noticed that Catherine was swirling hers, a challenging look in her eyes. He was already so aroused that it was uncomfortable. It was as if she had decided to throw caution to the wind and simply see where this night led.
What a woman. I have never met another woman remotely like her before.
“I win,” he announced, throwing his cards down triumphantly on the table. “Have a look.”
She narrowed her eyes, looking at his cards. Then she sighed, sitting back, draining her brandy.
“So you did,” she said, crossing her legs and putting a hand over the back of the chair. She looked at him. “Go on, then. What do you want to ask me?”
He tapped his chin thoughtfully. His eyes dropped to her hands. “I am asking you to take off your gloves.”
Her eyes widened. “My gloves? But why on earth would you ask me to do that?”
