Page 27 of The Duke of Fire
“Perhaps.” His smirk deepened. “Let’s play a harmless game, then. Cards. A simple contest of chance. Lose, and you will shed an article of clothing.”
Amelia did not know if there was ever a harmless bone in the Duke of Firaine’s body. She doubted it.
Her breath caught. “I refuse.”
“You may. But if you stay, you will follow my rules.”
The cards appeared between his fingers like magic. She could see how this would unravel her. And yet—
“One round,” she said, setting her chin high as she sat across from him. Why was she always afraid? There was no need to hide anymore.
She stopped then. Her eyes were drawn by the cards in his long-fingered hands, as if they had the answers to all her questions. Her heart was pounding, and her cheeks were warm from the fire in the hearth. Her growing defiance made her think of it as a challenge.
They drew their cards, Amelia holding her breath. They seated as she placed her card on the table. Her eight to his ten.
She lost. She slipped off her gloves with careful precision, as if it were merely an exercise in etiquette. The duke watched her, not with lust, but with maddening curiosity.
“One more round?” he asked smoothly, earning a quirk of the eyebrow from her.
She should have left. But she did not. She was still there for some reason, drawing her card not long after he declared another round. She picked a three. When she hissed a curse at his five, he just chuckled.
With her chin up, she eased out of her shoes. She gave them a kick for effect.
“Again.”
“Ah. I knew you were smart. I mean, I read your work. Did I not?”
Amelia made a less-than-graceful grunt. She was in the game. When fortune tipped toward her, she was surprised. The hand that held her nine trembled next to his six. It was a small victory, but it sent her heart racing.
But what would she do with her win? The man who lost looked at her like he was the winner, with that wicked smirk on his face. He did not protest when he pulled at his cravat. The flames illuminated the line of his throat. How could a small sliver of flesh make her feel so unsettled?
She drew a card. A ten. She made a little yelp of triumph, but it was soon vanquished by his queen.
“No, sweetheart. I am sorry, but you need to remove one more article of clothing,” he crooned.
So, she took off her pelisse, glad that she remembered to wear one. She thought that she needed to be as respectable as possible. She had believed the dowager duchess would welcome her.
When she won with a queen to his jack, he merely laughed. He took off his shirt with deliberate slowness, revealing his broadshoulders and strong arms. Once the shirt was completely off, Amelia had to press her lips together to avoid gaping at his chiseled chest. She had never seen a naked man before, and her imagination was running wild.
After that, Amelia lost again and again until she was down to her chemise. Each time she lost, her heart beat a little faster. Her cheeks were flaming, but her back remained straight. She looked at the duke with defiance, even through her humiliation.
“More?” he asked, his voice softening a little. “You can stop at any time, Miss Warton.”
Her eyes narrowed. “No.”
This time, she drew a seven. He picked a nine. With one more layer left, Amelia wondered why she was not as panicked. She closed her eyes as she pulled her chemise away and let it fall to the floor.Her skin prickled from the chilly air, but the growing realization that this was real, and she was naked, warmed her.
Amelia crossed her arms, shielding what she could. The duke’s gaze trailed over her—not with gloating satisfaction, but with reverence. As if she had just given him a secret no one else was allowed to see. Then, she met his gaze. It was not a glare, but it was not meek, either.
She felt his gaze rake every inch of her, even as she tried to hide. Still, he remained in his spot, making no move to touch her. His decision to do this was a torment of its kind. Strangely, she did not know what would be worse—having his hands caress her skin or having him watch her with fire in his eyes.
His jaw was slack, his eyes wide for a moment. Then, he shook his head and told her gently, “Into the bath.”
She faltered and hesitated, looking at him for answers.
“You do not need to fear me. I told you I will not take anything from you, unless you ask me to.”
Confused, breathless, she nodded.
