The Captain's Wicked Wager Read Online Free PDF Page B

posturing are not for me.”
    The ormolu clock interrupted their conversation by striking five, taking them both by surprise.
    “We should take the opportunity to rest before dinner,” Ewan said with a wicked glint in his eye. “With any luck it’s going to be an eventful night.”
    A frisson of pure anticipation coursed through Isabella’s veins. What would the fates have in store for her this time?

Chapter 4
    Belle dressed simply for dinner in a gown of pale green muslin worn open over a white slip, the sleeves tight to her elbows, below which the ruffles of her chemise billowed. Green ribbon formed a sash around her waist, and was also tied artfully into her hair, one long ebony curl allowed to trail over her shoulder. She studied her reflection in the long mirror with satisfaction. Au natural, a veritable milk-maid in the style made popular by Queen Marie-Antoinette. With a frisson of excitement she headed downstairs to the dining room. Whether she won or lost, she was determined to have Ewan in a fever of wanting.
    He was different in the candlelight. Less approachable in his dark evening clothes. More self-contained. She felt a quiver of apprehension. Or was it some less admissible emotion?
    They sat adjacent to each other at the oval table. Ewan dispensed with the servants and served her himself. She took claret, he burgundy. Roast woodcock met with her approval. Expertly, he carved the game bird and placed a portion on Isabella’s plate.
    White teeth nibbling on the tender meat. Fingers first licked, then sucked clean, one by one. A luscious mouth dabbed delicately with the table linen. A glimpse of pink tongue. Ewan shifted uncomfortably against the high back of his chair, feeling himself stiffen against his breeches. He could not but help imagining her mouth on him. Licking. Sucking.
    “What have you in mind for me if you win againtonight,” she asked, fixing him with her gaze.
    He grinned. “It does not do to depend upon winning, for that way disappointment lies.”
    “So you would be disappointed if I win,” she teased.
    “I would not be the only one.”
    “Sir, you flatter yourself.”
    A hand grasped her firmly by the chin. “At least I am honest with myself, Belle. I want you. If I win the throw I will have you, and you will be willing. But if you win, what then? ’Twill be a frustrating night, for you will spite us both.”
    She pulled back, anger sparking in her eyes, not wanting to hear the uncomfortable truth. “For you perhaps. I told you earlier, you have already served your purpose for me.” She pushed back her chair impatiently. “Come, let us settle it at once then, since you are so clearly unable to wait.”
    Ewan laughed softly and followed her wordlessly upstairs to the small saloon where the dice box lay waiting on the table.
    Isabella looked blankly at the dice when they stopped rolling. “It seems you have won, Captain Dalgleish. Once again, I am at your disposal. What would you have me do this time?”
    “Come here, Belle.” He could see her breathing through the thin muslin of her dress. A long curl, glossy black, trailed down over the white skin of her neck. So lovely.
    She stepped closer. He smelled of clean linen and soap, a hint of wine on his breath. She looked up, found his lips close, felt his breath warm on her cheek,an arm snaking round the ribbon at her waist. She could feel her nipples harden against the cotton of her chemise. Wanting flared in her, a need she had not known until yesterday and which since then had stubbornly refused to subside.
    Her wrists were captured, tugged tight behind her back. She was pressed close to him, chest to chest, so close she could feel the buttons of his coat digging into her. His smile was cruel but she was not frightened.
    “So I have served my purpose have I? You do not dispense with me so easily, Belle. I will make you ache for me.”
    His words served to boost her determination to deny him. “You may try, but you will not