Leigh, Tamara Read Online Free PDF Page B

against accepting Bernart Kinthorpe's challenge. He should not be here.
    Wondering what had possessed him, Gabriel folded his arms over his chest and waited to see if Erec fared any better in the treacherous game of dice. Hardly had the next round begun when he was struck with the sensation of being watched. He knew who it was without looking around. During the past hours he'd become inured to the man's scrutiny.
    Bernart was laying his plans, whatever they might be.
    Hips swaying, a serving wench approached—the same who had thrice attended to Gabriel's thirst, whose dark eyes spoke of another thirst she'd willingly quench. Nesta, she called herself. Not that it mattered. Names were of little import when two people came together for pleasure.
    "More ale, Lord De Vere?" she invited.
    He nodded.
    The wench leaned forward and settled her pitcher against the rim of his tankard.
    His loins stirred at the sight of twin globes pushing up from the neckline of her gown. Though he was only a sennight without a woman, he was feeling strangely deprived. True, he had an appetite for the cradle of a woman's thighs, her panting breath in his ear, the rake of her nails down his back, but this night his need was stronger than usual.
    The wench drew back. "Is there aught else ye require, Lord De Vere?" Her voice was a husky purr that gave promise of the moans he would wring from her.
    Gabriel trailed his gaze to her somewhat thick waist, then to flared hips thrust forward beneath her gown. Was there a darkened corner within the donjon where he might sample her? Behind a tapestry? The storeroom? Mayhap his tent—providing his squire had finished pitching it.
    She brushed against him. "Sire?"
    Gabriel was about to suggest the gardens when a movement to his left drew his regard. Bernart. His limp more obvious than it had been earlier that evening, he advanced. The man had not lost his talent for picking the most inopportune time to appear. Gabriel looked back at the wench. "Perhaps later."
    Disappointment pouted her thin lips. "Mayhap." With a toss of her head, she sauntered to those gathered around the dice.
    A smile found Gabriel's mouth. She would wait for him. She had not gone to the trouble of turning other wenches from his path only to cast her eyes elsewhere.
    Bernart halted a stride from Gabriel.
    "Try a few casts, Lord Kinthorpe," one of the knights invited.
    Bernart shook his head. "I prefer to watch you lose your money, Sir Tarrant."
    Several rounds later, with the silence between Bernart and Gabriel grown heavy, Bernart asked, "Is fortune not with you this eve?"
    Gabriel met his gaze. "I cannot say it has looked kindly upon me." For proof, his purse hung lighter from his belt.
    Bernart cocked his head. "What of the morrow? Think you fortune will look kindly upon you then?"
    Gabriel considered him. Though Bernart had once been among the strongest, not to mention most handsome of men, it was obvious he'd fallen victim to excess and lack of discipline. There was spare flesh around his eyes and jowls, the dark hair visible beneath his embroidered cap was thin and dull, his hands were slightly bloated, and his belted waist was by no means trim. A worthy opponent? Though they had once been fairly matched in arms, it appeared those days were gone. "I assure you," Gabriel said, "you will not find me lacking."
    Bernart pursed and unpursed his lips. "Nay, I do not think I will."
    An exultant shout, answered by groans and the clatter of coins, proclaimed the winner of the latest throw of dice. Sir Erec.
    Flashing big teeth, the knight turned to where Nesta hovered over his shoulder, pulled her against him. He kissed her loudly, then set her from him.
    Nesta swept her gaze to Gabriel. With a seductive dip of her lashes, she slid her tongue over her flushed lips.
    Though she thought to make him jealous, it was an emotion to which Gabriel was immune. No woman was worth such destructive feelings. Still, he wouldn't mind satisfying himself with