All I Want Read Online Free PDF

tempting as winning the next hand of Speculation.
    To feign disinterest in the twitches and tells of the other three men at the card table, Anthony lifted his untouched glass of brandy to his lips and leaned back in his chair. Careful to keep a watchful eye on the other gamblers, he glanced about the inn while he waited his turn.
    This particular inn was a bit dear, given the unpredictable condition of Anthony’s purse, but he’d chosen it for that very reason. Rich guests meant higher profits at the gaming tables.
    Bored gentlemen—after all, who stopped at a small village on the border between Scotland and England save those on a long, dusty journey?—meant virtually every soul present had wandered into the guest salon after supper to be entertained for a moment or two.
    For Anthony, the most interesting of all was the intriguing woman in the corner. She drank nothing. Spoke to no one. Seemed uninterested in the bustle of life about her. Yet she was not.
    Light from a nearby candle reflected in her eyes every time she looked his way.
    Anthony was certain she was the catalyst for his phenomenal luck this evening. As a lifelong gambler, he was accustomed to both long stretches of near-invincibility as well as dry spells of dashed fortune. From the moment he’d laid eyes on this mysterious woman, every trump that turned up matched the cards in his hands.
    She was his talisman. His saving grace.
    Her moss-colored gown was simple muslin, but the blood-red rubies about her neck and dangling from her ears indicated wealth. A nondescript bonnet bathed her face in shadow. Were it not for a rogue ringlet slipping out the back, he would not have known her hair was spun gold.
    “Fairfax?” prompted Leviston. “You in?”
    “Absolutely.” Anthony placed a dizzying sum of money on the corner of the table. Thirty pounds was more than he’d seen in months—and far more than he could afford to lose. But with Lady Fortune gazing in his direction, he knew he could not fail.
    Smugly, Mr. Bost tossed his final card onto the table, face-up. Mr. Leviston and Mr. Whitfield groaned as they displayed their cards.
    As Anthony had expected, their cards were no match for his. Not tonight. He turned over the last of his cards without fanfare.
    Bost gasped in dismay. “You are positively beggaring me tonight, Fairfax!”
    Anthony gazed back impassively as he tucked his winnings into his purse. He knew a thing or two about being beggared. It was what had chased him from London to Scotland—but only temporarily. He would recover his losses.
    Beau Brummell might be able to hide in France the rest of his life, but Anthony had friends and family in England. Friends and family who would welcome him back with open arms once his vowels were paid.
    Tonight was the night. He could feel it. Fate had been on his side from the moment Leviston had suggested a game of Speculation. Anthony could not possibly have resisted.
    He had always preferred games of chance over strategy. His strength was not in counting cards or doing figures, but in being incredibly lucky. Any gambler experienced periods of soaring highs and devastating lows but, in Anthony’s case, fortune favored him so often that his winnings at the gaming tables had been his family’s sole income for years.
    True, he had recently suffered agonizing losses but, as any gambler knew, a windfall was always a mere turn of the cards away.
    All he needed was one big win.
    Whitfield shook his head. “Demme, I should never have believed the rumors of your luck running out. You’re unsinkable! Think you’ll ever retire from the gaming tables and leave a few pence for us mortals?”
    Anthony twisted his face into a comical expression of horror. “Never!”
    Chuckling, Whitfield gathered the remaining cards and began to shuffle.
    Anthony sent a quick smile toward his shadowy Lady Fortune. She was his charm, his muse. He had won that last round simply because she’d gazed upon him.
    “I see our