Page 8 of A Tempest of Desire
And she’d turned that small spot into a kingdom, surrounded by high walls and a moat.
Yet she didn’t know if it was enough to protect her from Langdon—or the way he made her feel. As she’d once dreamed of feeling: precious and special. Desired. Appreciated. Cherished.
“Fetch me a scotch, will you, love?” Hollie asked quietly, snapping her attention away from Langdon.
She took a quick assessing glance around the table. Only Hollie and Langdon still had cards infront of them. It was her job to pay attention to the play, and she’d not been doing so. “Yes, of course.”
She caught Langdon’s eye and gave him the smallest of smiles before sultrily getting to her feet. Hollie had taught her how to move so men would follow the sway of her hips, and while she normally enjoyed being on display, for some reason she didn’t want Langdon watching her performance. He didn’t strike her as the sort to be trifled with. She reached the sideboard, surprised to find her hand shaking when she lifted the decanter.
Situating herself so she could see over Langdon’s shoulder, she slowly poured, waiting and watching, until he finally lifted his cards. Although he was incredibly guarded with them, she managed to catch a glimpse.
After setting down the decanter, she returned to her chair beside Hollie and placed the drink beside his hand. Then she slipped her own hand beneath the table, slid it along his thigh, and squeezed his knee. The signal that he couldn’t beat Langdon.
She watched as Langdon tossed more coins into the center of the table, his gaze never leaving her. “Twenty quid.”
Hollie leaned back, sighed. “You’ve cleaned me out, old chap. I don’t suppose you’d take my vowels.”
“No.”
“I thought not. However, I do have something to offer that’s worth much more than twenty quid.”
“I’m not interested in baubles.”
“But based on the way you’ve been watching her, I’d say you are interested in my mistress.”
Marlowe’s stomach lurched as she swung her head around to stare at Hollie. “What?”
“You can have the remainder of the night with her in a private room here,” Hollie continued.
“I don’t bed unwilling women.”
“Oh, I think she’s more than willing. I’ve also seen the way she’s been looking at you. You don’t mind, do you, love?”
“Hollie, this is ridiculous.”
Leaning near her ear, he whispered, “Of late, you’ve complained of being bored. I suspect he is anything but.”
She hadn’t complained. She’d mentioned wanting to go ballooning. She shook her head.
“Let him give you what I, of late, have failed to deliver.” He pressed a kiss to a spot just below her ear. “Consider it a gift, a new experience. A broadening of your education.”
He was risking losing her. What was that about? However, it wasn’t as though she had a reputation to protect. Well, unless she considered living up to the title associated with her: London’s most notorious courtesan. Still, none of this sat well with her. “I’m your paramour, not your whore. I’ll not be bartered. I choose with whom I lie.”
“Fair point.” He turned his attention back to Langdon. “You can take only what she is willing to give, although I suspect she won’t object to a kiss. Beyond that, you’ll have to entice her into wanting more. I suspect you’re up to it.”
Good God! Why was he doing this when she’d already signaled he’d lose? What was in it for him? They’d always had an understanding, and he’dtreated her so well. Was this his way of showing he was done with her? “Hollie—”
“I’ll accept those terms,” Langdon drawled.
She couldn’t have been more stunned if he’d suddenly stood and removed his clothing. Words failed her as the fury bolted through her. Men always thought they were in charge, but in this matter they were not. She simply had to determine how best to deliver the message that made that fact crystal clear when they were alone in that room together. That she was intrigued by that perfectly shaped mouth was beside the point. That Hollie was striving to gift her with a kiss from another man might be the oddest gift he’d ever given to her and he’d given her some unusual, unforgettable ones.
“In that case,” Hollie began, “I call.”
With a negligent flipping of his wrist, his gaze never leaving her, Langdon revealed his cards. And she fought with every last bit of weaponry within her arsenal to not let the shock—or disappointment—be revealed on her face. They were not the cards he’d been holding, not the ones she’d glimpsed. Not the cards that would have ensured he won.
Not the ones that would have seen them together until dawn.
No. The assortment of random suits and numbers that formed no meaningful pattern whatsoever ensured he lost. He’d had a chance to win her—and he hadn’t taken it. She was being a complete dunderhead because she was insulted. Hurt. He didn’t want her. When had any man not desired her? Accustomed to sloughing off men’s advances,she was unprepared for responding to a rebuff. She had a strong urge to pick up the glass she’d refilled and toss its contents at that handsome visage. The bastard. No man had never not wanted her. Good Lord. There were even women who had expressed a desire for her.
