Chapter 95

All Splendor had to do was win. Very simple, despite the fact a thick coat of sweat lay on her palms. Very simple until she'd stepped in here. Till he'd started these undermining tactics. Timed Chess? Naked pieces? Tossing that damnable watch of his at Chasens? Developing butter fingers when Chasens heaved it back? Now he even waved away the liveried footman, refusing a drink. Him? When he'd staggered into Boodle's that day, drunk as an empty bottle.
He'd also chosen this room where she was all the more aware of him sitting there in his immaculate, charcoal-gray coat, a dark contrast to the cream walls. The carelessly combed hair falling over his face every time he leaned forward. A raggle-taggle gypsy dressed as a gentleman. A man who had made her the most shocking offer. An offer she had accepted because of Gabe, who, if he ever found out, would surely kill her.
She fingered the back of her neck to mask the cold unease that prickled there like droplets of icy water. It was her move, and she must consider it carefully, especially when the last one had resulted in her losing her bishop. Already she'd lost to Baxby today. And, actually, while it killed her to think so, the earl was better than she had given him credit for. Maybe not much, certainly not as much as he kidded himself into believing, but there it was. Except now as his long fingers fastened about her knight, he was also kidding her.
How had he managed that? Perhaps because she was considering the candlelit sheen on his dark hair. And not just that, the dark stubble framing his sensuous lips. And how her throat cinched as her fingertips brushed his.
By mistake.
She drew her hand back. She'd sooner not move the pawn, even if that move was perfect and would see her out of this hole she'd somehow dug.She had three minutes. She could do this. She could think. Chasens squared his shoulders, clanged like a grandfather clock.
"That's coming up for-"
She shot out her hand. Better a move-any move-than none. She sat back.
The only way Gabe could possibly find out she was here was if she lost. Could she stop thinking about it? She wouldn't lose. And even if she did, there were certain things she would not do.
A night with Stillmore. In his bed, his lips, his body on hers ...It was not something she was going to think of here.
It would not come to that. The man was obnoxious to the very boots encasing his long legs. Obnoxious to his bones. As for being bad tempered? He was horrible. Not the worst man she'd ever met. No. That honor went to Starkadder but he was most certainly a close second. And he'd made her agree to this. Really, he had. Sort of anyway.
Well, it didn't matter that the sweat beading her forehead in the candlelight was in danger of running into her eyes. After this morning when she'd fudged this, she knew one thing. She was not walking out of here without that money. She'd sooner die.
***
Drawing his coat collar up as protection against the chill night air, Stillmore strode to the edge of the curb. "Hang it, Chasens, my cane. And find the woman a carriage, will you? She looks like she needs a ride home." Well, wasn't this a dilemma. How the bloody blazes could she have lost and that check for ten thousand still be in his pocket?
"Thank you, but I shall walk if you don't mind? I am more than capable." Splendor's face was whiter than a ghost's. Still she held her chin high.
"Than you were on the chessboard? Very well, suit yourself."
She must want to spend the night with him really, really badly. How else could he explain her sitting there like a moonstruck mouse messing up every single move she made? How was he meant to reward such imbecility? By making himself look stupid? He'd tried. He'd let her have his rook, his bishop, his knight, and half his pawns. But his queen? No. There were things he drew the line at. God knew he had tried every trick he knew to throw the game in her favor without making it glaringly obvious, and she had still lost. She was a damnable woman. Not at all his type. Too tall. Too argumentative. Too vexing.
Too much trouble.
And had he said, too stupid?Imagine wanting to get married at her age? To a runt at that.
He withdrew his watch from his pocket and snapped it open. "Although you must know you are being perfectly ridiculous insisting upon walking at this hour. It's late. It's been a long day. And you don't exactly live close at hand. The streets can be dangerous. Let us be clear, that area you live in can hardly be termed salubrious."
"And that is somehow your concern?"
"Well, no, now you come to mention it, it's not." Having admired the watch's pale face glinting in the moonlight for several seconds, he flicked it shut. "I was merely trying to be helpful."
Her widened eyes left him in very little doubt that she didn't just believe the concept of him being helpful was as far as the stars beyond him, she believed it was going to stay at that distance for some considerable time. If not forever.
He was just going to have to keep the ten thousand pounds after all. Anything else would make him look a fool. His gaze flitted over the oval of her face, shadowed by the street lamps. Correct him if he was wrong but they'd had a wager, hadn't they? At least he might as well get his wager's worth.
"But I shall pick you up by carriage tomorrow evening at seven. Be ready."
She better not think of bolting either.