On a Wild Night Read Online Free PDF Page A

him, worrying her full lower lip between small white teeth. He’d meet her gaze, hold it . . . as if gaining strength from that fragile contact, she’d draw breath, then play her card—straight and true, as he’d asked. For a female, she was proving surprisingly good at holding to a difficult line. His respect for her grew as the cards continued to fall.
    The candles burned down. Mellors came to replace them. All four players sat back and waited, grasping the moment to rest eyes and minds.
    They’d been playing for hours.
    Martin, Connor and Meredith were used to all-night games. Amanda was not. Tiredness dulled her eyes even though she fought to keep it at bay. When she stifled a yawn, Martin felt Connor glance—surprisingly—at him.
    He met the old reprobate’s gaze. Sharp as a lance, it rested heavily on him, as if Connor was trying to see into his soul. Martin raised his brows. Connor hesitated, then turned back to the cards. They were neck and neck, two points each, but the hands continued to turn without adding to either result, so evenly were they matched.
    He dealt the next hand and they continued.
    It was experience, in the end, that handed them the game. Even so, when the habitual counter in Martin’s head alerted him to the revoke, he didn’t immediately call it.
    Why Connor would make such a mistake was difficult to see. Even had he been wilting, which he wasn’t. Anyone could make a mistake, true enough—Martin was sure Connor would offer precisely those words if asked.
    He waited until the last trick was played. He and Amanda had gained one point on the hand. Before Connor could sweep up the cards, Martin murmured, “If you’ll turn up the last four tricks . . . ?”
    Connor glanced at him, then did. The revoke was instantly apparent. Connor stared at the cards, then blew out a breath. “Damn! My apologies.”
    Amanda blinked at the cards, then raised her eyes to Martin’s face, a question in the blue.
    He felt his lips curve. “We’ve won.”
    Her lips formed an O. She looked down at the cards with greater interest. With increasing delight.
    The crowd watching from afar had dwindled, but all present now woke up, leaving the tables to learn of the outcome. Within minutes, an excited hum of conversation and exclamation lapped around them.
    Against it, Connor, in quite gentlemanly vein, considering the circumstances, explained his fault to Amanda, and how the penalty had handed them the game and thus the rubber. Then, with an almost comical switch in his tone, he pushed back his chair and stood. “Well! That’s that, then!”
    He scowled down at Amanda.
    Amanda blinked, wary of the mischievous, malicious light that gleamed in Connor’s eyes.
    â€œI’ll send the mare around first thing tomorrow morning—Upper Brook Street, ain’t it? Enjoy her in good health.”
    That last was said with unholy glee.
    Reality crashed down on her. “No! Wait—” Where the devil was she to stable this horse? How could she explain how she’d come by such an animal? And it was odds on that Demon, currently in town, would drop by the instant he heard, recognize the beast, know to whom it had belonged—and start asking all manner of awkward questions.
    â€œLet me think . . .” She glanced at Reggie, blinking owlishly, half asleep. No help there; Reggie resided with his parents and his mother was her mother’s bosom-bow. “Perhaps . . .” She glanced at Connor, still standing over her. Could she refuse the horse? Or, given the incomprehensible slew of rules surrounding male wagers, was even suggesting such a thing a base insult?
    â€œI daresay—” Martin’s deep voice, cool and calm, cut across her whirling thoughts.
    She and Connor turned to him, a conquering hero elegantly at ease in the large chair, a glass of champagne in one long-fingered