Chapter Twenty
Markham followed Rayne through Bromton House toward the cardroom. The same cardroom where he’d infamously wagered his sister’s hand in marriage, intending to make sure Bromton won.
In his mind, he saw the round mahogany table exactly as it had been that night, the moment he’d played the final card. The idea had been for them all to wager secret high stakes—not only high stakes, but something they held dear.
Bromton hadn’t been alarmed when Markham won his bet. Instead, he’d leaned back in his chair, appearing almost relieved. He recalled Bromton’s words—I suggested secret bets. To begrudge them now would be…dishonorable.
Markham had been out of his element in the argument that followed. He’d privately sparred with a brooding Bromton, trying to figure out the what and the why of the strange game they’d played, while simultaneously seizing the opportunity to lift his sister out of shame.
His wager may have eventually brought Katherine and Bromton happiness, but the grief it had brought others—Julia, Rayne and, now, himself—was a thief that just kept taking.
He hadn’t any idea what Rayne intended, but he meant to put an end to any suggestion that he would gamble.
“For the last time,” he said to Rayne’s back as they entered the room. “I do not wager. Not anymore.”
“That’s a pity.” Rayne stepped aside. “You might want to change your mind.”
Little had changed in the room. The brass chandelier still hung low from the center of the ceiling, directly above the dark wood table. Bromton and Farring occupied the same chairs. Rayne’s seat remained empty, but his…
He’d fooled himself into believing the sharp, heightened awareness he felt in Clarissa’s presence must have dulled in the passing week. But when she turned her head, that awareness cut with the sharp, thin precision of a blade.
Her gaze raked him up and down. “It’s about time.”
Trepidation and relief warred for dominance—one emotion hot, one cool, both jostling as if he were rattling down a hill in the back of a driverless donkey cart.
“What is going on?” he asked.
Farring pulled a pipe from his mouth. “We’re playing a game, of course.”
“And”—Bromton tossed away his cards—“the lady has won, again.”
“Not the lady,” she corrected. She glanced to Markham. “I’ve been wagering on your behalf.”
He forced himself to swallow. “I don’t wager.”
She smiled faintly. “You gave me leave to do so the day we went to the maze.”
He had, hadn’t he?
The scent of yew danced at the edge of his memory. She’d been lost. He’d found her. She’d kissed him—freely, fully, and deeply.
He was the one lost, now.
“I’d be careful, Hearts.” Farring pushed back from the table. “She’s already won quite a bit.”
Bromton stood. “Nothing we couldn’t afford to lose, of course.”
“Where are you going?” Markham asked.
“I asked them to leave when you arrived,” Clarissa answered. “I prefer to play the final round with you.”
Farring handed Clarissa a deck with a grin. “Kindred spirits.”
“I know,” Clarissa replied.
Just before leaving with Farring, Bromton grasped Markham on the shoulder and squeezed. A gesture of what? Manly solidarity?
Markham turned back to see Rayne take Clarissa’s hand.
“The result of your discussion?” Clarissa asked.
Rayne shifted his gaze to Markham. “I have no objections…but are you sure?”
Sure of what?
She nodded. “I’ve never been more sure.”
Rayne kissed Clarissa’s cheek. “Then you have my blessing…and my wish for good luck.”
And then, just before leaving, he shook Markham’s hand.
“Final round.” Clarissa turned back to the table. “I deal. You sit.” She glanced through her lashes. “Please.”
A sense of unreality followed Markham to Rayne’s chair. He gazed at Clarissa and only one word came to mind—“sweetheart.” He swallowed the endearment he hadn’t been able to say since they’d been together at Southford.
He had no right. Not anymore.
Yet, still, she tugged at his heart—his battered heart, still clinging loyally to a ship he had no hope of saving.
“What is going on?” he asked. “Are you with child?”
She made an odd expression and then shook her head no. He slumped and ran a finger back and forth across his brow.
“A relief, I’m sure,” he forced.
“Is it?” she asked.
She dealt him a card and herself a card. Then she set aside the deck. She rested her elbow on the table and her cheek on her hand. A black curl spiraled down over her chin. Her expression remained neutral, but her blue eyes smiled.
“What is this?” he asked.
“I haven’t the patience for complex games—not when it comes to us. And right now, I’m finding you far too distracting by half. A single card. That is all.”
He reached for his card, but she moved her hand from her cheek and caught his wrist in her gloved fingers.
“First,” she said with a stern little pinch to her lips, “the stakes.”
Heat radiated up his arm from the point where her fingers held him still. “I keep telling everyone I don’t wager.”
“And I kept telling you I would not marry…but we may each review our rules from time to time, don’t you think?”
His pulse jumped. “Does that mean—?”
“Unfortunately,” she interrupted, “I can no longer offer a dowry.”
He frowned. “What’s happened?”
“It’s amazing what clever barristers can accomplish. I asked Rayne to sign over my dower funds to me. And, after some convincing, he complied. It’s important you understand I do not intend to relinquish them.”
The two sentences did not fit. Why would it be important he understand? “You have the means to set up your own household, then?”
“I do.”
His gaze fell to her fingers, still lightly gripping his wrist. “You have everything you wanted.”
“I’d rather talk about what you want.” She lifted a brow. “I hear you’ve been eager to obtain a certain betting book.”
Her calm excoriated. After all they’d been through, he’d failed at his primary aim—to protect her from that ridiculous wager.
“Someone took it from the club after it closed. But I will find it, I swear.”
Her eyes softened, and she touched his cheek. “I understand the entry implies you courted and abandoned me on purpose. The book could be used against us both.”
He slammed his free fist against the table. “No one should be forced to alter their lives because of a bet.”
“True,” she replied. “But I’m counting on Hearts the Gallant, who is prone to excess when a lady’s honor is at stake…”
“What do you mean?”
She pushed a piece of paper across the table. “If you want the betting book, here’s what I am willing to wager.”
“You have the book?”
She placed a finger on his lips. “Yes. But before you ask any more questions, read my wager.”
She released him and Markham picked up the paper. He read—
We will wed by license, or special license, if you prefer.
Marriage contracts will allow me control of my fortune.
You will make me tea in the mornings.
You will undress me before bed.
You promise never to be embarrassed.
And, when mutually agreed, you may bend me over any table and—
He stopped reading and looked up.
All the breath he’d been holding jammed in his chest. A hot blush traveled up his neck.
“You’re wagering a marriage contract?”
She nodded. “There’s a more official one waiting. It might be more prudent to keep this one private.”
Private? It violated every decency law he could think of.
“May I assume you approve?” She bit her lower lip.
Approve? He hadn’t dared hope. While he’d been alternatively trying to obtain that blasted book and wallowing in self-pity, she’d found a way to reconcile her opposing desires.
Hell yes, he approved. He couldn’t be more in awe.
But—“What can I wager in return that could possibly be of equal value?”
“I’m not interested in equal. What I want you to wager is of far greater value. I want Hearts’s heart.”
Ah.
Warmth spidered through him, spreading like liquid happiness.
With one terribly romantic gesture, she’d replaced the haunting memory of this room with a moment that he’d cherish for the rest of his days.
With a challenging grin of his own, he refolded the paper and tucked it beneath his waistcoat—a stolen memento of this sudden, marvelous reversal of fortune.
“Hey.” She rose from her seat and towered over him, scowling. “That’s mine. Give it back!”
“One hundred and ninety-five,” he said with glee. “And you cannot have it back, because I intend to win.”
“Give it back now”—she straddled him on the chair—“especially if you intend to win.”
He’d never tire of her weight in his lap. “Why especially?”
“Because once you’re mine”—she cupped his cheek and leaned in, intentionally crushing her breasts against his chest—“I can devise all sorts of punishments.”
He caught her other hand—the one that had been slowly moving toward the folded piece of paper.
“Remember, sweetheart—to bind me”—he moved both her wrists behind her back—“you must, too, be bound.”
She smiled indulgently and lightly nipped his nose.
He chuckled, capturing her mouth in a passionate kiss. He poured himself into that kiss, all the things he wished for them both—anticipation of the moments small and the moments life-transforming—the marriage they would create. A marriage of true minds.
How could he describe the feeling of being fully bound, caught up within his lady’s heart?
Pure relief.
Absolute solace.
The promise of comfort and care.
He didn’t need rules any longer.
All he needed was his wife.
…
Clarissa had been sparking with anticipation since she’d first come up with her twin ideas—the claiming of her fortune, and then the use of the betting book to insist Markham make a claim of his own. She lost herself in Markham’s kiss, and the sparks fanned to flame.
In his kiss she found everything she’d wished for and more—he kissed with presence, with promise.
Dizzying to go from despair’s nadir to the very heights of passionate triumph.
But she hadn’t triumphed—she broke their kiss—not yet.
She wiggled her hands out of Markham’s loose grasp.
He groaned. “I definitely prefer a special license.”
“But with a regular license we could wed at Southford.”
His eyes grew serious. “Would you like that?”
“Couldn’t you tell I loved your home?”
He shook his head no. “I’m,” his voice cracked, “glad.”
She ran the back of her hand down his cheek. “You haven’t won, lapin,” she whispered. “First, we must see who turns over the higher card.”
She leaned back, grasped her card between her fingers, and danced the Queen of Hearts in front of his face.
A little crease appeared between his brows. “That will be hard to beat.”
“Indeed,” she replied as she walked her fingers up his chest. “And perhaps…”
He covered his pocket. Her wager crinkled beneath his fingers. “Oh no you don’t. That wager is mine. As is this card.”
He reached past her waist and flipped his over.
She already knew what it would be, of course.
Still, the pleasure that spread across his cheeks warmed her heart.
He eased back into the chair. “It looks like the Queen has a King.”
She lifted a brow. “A consort, perhaps…”
He chuckled.
She sighed dramatically. “I suppose this means I’ve lost the wager.”
She yelped as he lifted her up and stood at the same time. He set her down on the table.
“Sweetheart.” He kissed her. “My lady.” He held her face. The gold flecks in his eyes glittered in their pools of deep green. “My Queen.” He etched the symbol into her neck. “You already had my heart.”
She ignored the tears in her eyes. She didn’t mind if they fell. She knew where she could find a handkerchief if she needed one.
She’d been so afraid. So afraid of losing herself—and of giving herself, too.
But there was one place she could trust.
One place she could rule and be ruled.
One place where she need never be afraid.
Hearts’s heart.
She reached around and squeezed his lovely, muscled behind. He groaned, low and needy—a sound she adored. Then again, it wasn’t just the sound, was it?
She drew back so she could hold his cheeks and look fully into his eyes.
“I love you, lapin.”
He sighed as if the whole world had just reordered to his pleasure. His eyes unfocused, and a lazy smile slowly graced his lips.
“Do you, now?” he asked.
She nodded. “You’re mine.”
“And what do you intend to do with me now that you have me?”
“So many things,” she replied. “But I thought I would begin by buying you a Gunter’s ice.”
“That would be—”
“I wasn’t finished,” she interrupted sternly. “This time, I’ll not permit you to stand by the rail.”
“No?”
“No. I’ll expect you to come back to the carriage, draw the curtains closed, and stay very still while I—”
She leaned down and whispered the rest directly into his ear.
She sat back. His eyes had widened and darkened with a hot rabbit’s hunger.
“I love you, too,” he groaned.
“Show me.”
She smiled with deep satisfaction as he proceeded to do just that. She had a feeling she was going to thoroughly enjoy being Hearts’s Queen.