Page 29 of Ruthless with a Rogue
She shook her head.Focus on the game.Now to see how she faired.The dealer reached for his face-down card.Livy’s hand shot out and gripped Lord Dunmore’s wrist.Squeezed.She knew the dealer didn’t have twenty-one, because he would have announced that at the start, but if he had an eight or less…she’d winbothhands.Adrenaline simmered under her skin, swirling inside her, faster, faster.She leaned forward.She desperately wanted to win it all.This wasintoxicating.
The dealer flipped over his card…
“An eight!”She turned to Lord Dunmore.“Aneight.I won both!”She leaned toward him and arched a brow.“Andyoubusted.”
“Awfully proud of yourself, minx,” he drawled, but his lips were twitching.That roguish wave fell over his brow again.
She rolled her bottom lip in, her teeth sinking into it.She popped a shoulder nonchalantly.
His stare locked on her mouth, and his lids sank low.She immediately let her lip go.Her heart rate fluttered in her neck.All of a sudden, air was near impossible to draw in.Had they always been this close together?His whisky-scented breath danced over her skin.Her gaze dipped to his lips.Warning bells went off distantly in her mind.Her attention flicked back up to his eyes, dark and green and heady.She shook her head lightly, and he froze.This wasn’t a good idea.It wasn’t a strategic use of a kiss.
“Lord Dunmore,” a low voice boomed.
Livy jumped back.She snatched up her whisky and took a large gulp.Her eyes burned along with her throat, but the distraction was welcome.
All light-heartedness, all traces of amusement instantly fled Lord Dunmore.The sardonic marquess was back.“Lord Pennington,” he murmured, and Livy didn’t miss the disgust in his tone.
She discreetly glanced at Lord Pennington, but he didn’t seem aware of Lord Dunmore’s distaste.Though Livy supposed Lord Dunmore seemed to hate the entire world, so perhaps no one took it personally?
The gentleman standing before them was a lean, middle-aged man, with a narrow face, a slightly bulbous nose, and an unfashionable mustache.His attention landed on her and boldly roved over her figure, locking on her legs.It was all she could do to stop from squirming and covering herself.But in the next moment, she found herself yanked into Lord Dunmore’s lap, his forearm pulling her tight to his chest as a growl vibrated against her back.
Pennington grinned, top lip curled back to show a row of tiny dull teeth.The hairs on the back of Livy’s neck stood on end.
“Excellent choice for your…entertainment tonight, Lord Dunmore.I had wanted to pick your brain over some investments, but I see you have your hands full.”His gaze settled on Livy’s mouth, and Lord Dunmore’s arm tightened.She pressed back into him, as if she pressed hard enough, she’d disappear.“When you’re done with her, just let me know.”
“Her price is well beyond your reach, Pennington.”
The man’s smile vanished, and his nostrils flared.“Perhaps for now.”
Derek abruptly stood, tucking Livy to his side in the process.“If you’ll excuse us.We need to get back to our evening.”He quickly told the dealer to have their winnings sent up to his rooms and then ushered Livy away from Lord Pennington.
The entire walk to the door, she could have sworn she felt Lord Pennington’s gaze burning into her back.She chanced a glance as Lord Dunmore opened the door—and her eyes clashed with Lord Pennington’s from across the gaming room.
Heart quickening, she hurried into the hall.For all the scandalous whispers the ton made about the notorious Marquess of Dunmore, Livy hadn’t once felt unease in his presence.Nothing like the discomfort she’d just experienced under Lord Pennington’s watchful leer.
19
Derek
Derekhatedthatman.And not the normal hate he harbored for nearly everyone who walked this earth.No.He loathed that man.Pennington was worse than scum.Scum didn’t even like that man.He and his oily entourage preyed on the vulnerable—those without the power to push back against the shield of privilege their titles provided.Like his poor wife.
Somehow, that woman still found a reason to smile.She was the only reason Derek endured a second of the man’s vile presence.Lady Pennington was Lady Rutledge’s best friend, which meant Derek by default had to be friendly with the woman.As friendly as he was able.She wasn’t a horrible sort either.In small doses.But, Christ, the respect Derek held for her.He could only imagine what that woman was subjected to being Pennington’s wife.
Derek’s lip pulled back.And the man had looked at Miss Forester like she was his next victim.Not in Derek’s bloody lifetime.Derek had experience saving women who’d been preyed on by Pennington.The man took what he wanted as if it was his due, including women.Miss Forester wouldn’t be one of them.If that man so much as laid a finger on her, Derek would fucking break it off.Followed by the rest of them, so the man would never be able to touch her again.
He shook out his fists, trying to temper some of the blistering rage that had come over him.His heart drummed in an incessant rhythm against his ribcage.Miss Forester washis.It didn’t help that he now knew what it felt like to have her pressed up against him, her arse nestled in his lap, his arm banded around her.She’d leaned into him, had gladly taken refuge in his arms.The beast in him liked that.Something soft whispered in his chest, distant, barely discernable.Something he shook off.He wanted more of her surrender; that was all the reaction was.
He pushed into his private rooms and spun to face Miss Forester.She froze, and their gazes collided.The click of the door rang through the room.Something volatile surged through him; the fevered rush from winning, the primal urge to protect, to stake claim, colliding into something even more heady, impossible to tamp down.His lungs strained for air, the storm brewing inside him threatening to escape with each rough breath.
Visions of the night flashed through his mind.Miss Forester’s head thrown back as she laughed.Wild.Free.Unrestrained.Her long, elegant neck on full display.Mouthwatering.The way she’d easily kept track of the deck.He’d wager his fortune she’d used some sort of mathematical system to determine what cards were left.The way she didn’t just use it to best the house.No, she was a strategist.She was cunning.She used it against Derek too.Why?It’s not as though they were playing against each other.It was because she found itfun.She was so far from a tepid mouse.She was wily.
He needed another taste of her.Needed to feel her bare skin, that spark that lit the minute they touched.He advanced on her.
She took a step back for every step he took forward but didn’t have far she could go.Her back hit the door.Those blue eyes were impossibly wide behind her gold mask.He lifted a hand and hesitated.He needed bare skin.He hastily tore off his gloves and then he was cupping her face.She inhaled, the sound soft, yet sharp, and he hoped it drowned out his own reaction.Because something indescribable tore through him the minute his fingertips landed on her silken skin.
Their gazes held, neither speaking.A silent room that was loud with wicked intentions.His thumb brushed the rim of her mask.A barrier.Too much of her was hidden from him behind it.His hands slid back to find the ties, and then it was gone, nothing but a dullthumpagainst the floor.
A pained noise left him at the red lines marring her pale skin.How dare that mask harm her, how dare it mark something so perfect.The only one allowed to mark his minx washim.His lips were on those injuries in the next moment.He coasted over them, soft, lingering.Like he could take them away with a simple brush of his mouth.Her hands shot to his wrists, gripping him in a strangling hold.Her shuddering breaths bounced off his chin, his throat.But she didn’t push him away.If anything, he could have sworn she pulled him closer.
