Chapter Nineteen

A thrill of excitement speared through her, but caution still tugged at her brain.

How many times had Harry made the same offer to a woman? She surely wasn't the first.

Still, there was something refreshing about his honesty. He wasn't luring her to his home under false pretenses, as so many men might have done. He'd put all his cards on the table and was leaving it up to her to make the call. That in itself was liberating.

She still didn't entirely trust his motives for being in London. Did he truly want to leave his life of crime behind, or was working with her just a ruse to cover some larger scheme he had planned? She had no idea, but reason warned her not to expect too much, or to involve her heart.

Men like Harry stole hearts as easily as they picked pockets, and she was too sensible to allow herself to be duped.

Oddly, she did trust him when it came to the rest of her body. For all his criminal ways, he was a gentleman, and she knew that if she refused his offer, he'd see her safely back to King she'd have done far better to pretend to be a malleable, empty-headed featherbrain if she truly wanted a husband.

Harry wasn't matrimonial material, but why shouldn't she grasp this chance for a reckless, imprudent fling? Provided they took the necessary precautions against pregnancy, there was little danger of her being ruined, and she was aching to know if lovemaking really was as wonderful as it sounded.

She met his gaze, decision made.

"I'm not sleepy yet."

His pupils darkened and her heart thumped erratically in her chest. Amazed at her own uncharacteristic daring, she looked out of the window, at the darkened streets rushing by.

Harry stayed silent, and in no time at all they pulled up outside a neat white stone mansion.

"Welcome to Cobham House."

A liveried servant opened the front door and Ellie looked around in interest as Harry took her cloak and removed his own coat. The marble-lined hallway held an array of expensive-looking mirrors, paintings, and gilt sconces.

He indicated a staircase with a wooden banister that curved upward. "My study's upstairs. Come on."

The room was decorated in rich burgundy tones, and she crossed to warm her hands in front of the fire that crackled in the grate. Harry poured two glasses of red wine from a decanter on a side table, and she took a sip to steady her jittery nerves.

"So, this is your lair," she said. "It's very nice."

"Thank you. I was delighted to discover the place was furnished. I believe credit for the decoration should go to the Earl of Cobham, but he seems to have been a man with excellent taste. We clearly share a love of beautiful things."

His eyes rested on her face and, flustered again, Ellie reached up and unfastened the emerald necklace at her throat.

"Speaking of beautiful things, here—have these back before I lose them." She slipped the bracelet from her wrist, tugged the earrings from her ears, and thrust them toward him. "Please thank your friend for letting me borrow them. They made me feel like a princess."

Harry held out his hands and received the glittering mass with a solemn smile. "They made you look like a princess. And thank you. I'll tell him."

The loss of the jewels made Ellie feel oddly naked; she became incredibly aware of the expanse of skin displayed by the low neckline of the dress, and Harry's slow sweep of her cleavage didn't help her feel any less exposed.

She cleared her throat and cast around for something to say as he deposited the jewelry in the drawer of his desk.

"Let's see the book, then," he urged, and she blinked. She'd actually forgotten the entire reason for the evening!

She dug in her pocket, slightly surprised that he hadn't already removed the book with those magical, thieving fingers of his, and held it up to the light.

Both the front and back covers were made of solid, beaten gold, warm to the touch now from being pressed against her body. Smooth, circular jewels were set in a thick band all around the edges, with more bordering a raised image of the Virgin Mary chased in gold in the center.

Ellie traced her fingers over the green emeralds, blue sapphires, and bloodred rubies. Some of them were a little skewed, and irregular in shape, indicating the age of the piece.

She let out a reverent breath. "This must be worth a small fortune."

"It's called a treasure binding," Harry said. "In years past, certain gems were believed to possess magical properties. Diamonds were for healing. Emeralds protected against devils. Sapphires guarded against poisoning."

"It seems whoever had this book made wanted as many protections as possible," Ellie smiled. "Maybe that's where its reputation for being lucky came from?"

She opened it, and was amazed at the brightness of the painted illustrations within. Considering it was several centuries old, it was remarkably well-preserved.

Fantastical borders of colorful flowers and plants decorated the edges and encroached onto the beautiful medieval script. Huge gilt letters filled with dragons and angels, soldiers and birds added to the incredible richness.

"Can you feel good fortune seeping into your body?" Harry teased with a smile. He slid his finger over a page depicting a great feast, brushing her thumb as he did so, and her heart missed a beat at the seemingly innocuous contact.

Nothing he did was an accident.

Oh, he was wicked, bringing her to a slow boil.

"Put it somewhere safe," she urged, pushing it toward him.

He crossed to the bookcase behind her and, after a moment's perusal, selected a large, leather-bound book that appeared to be a weighty treatise on agricultural practices. It opened, however, to reveal a hollowed-out space within, where the central parts of the pages had been removed to create a hiding place the perfect size for the jeweled book.

He placed it inside with a wry glance at her, then put the book back on the shelf.

Ellie had to admire the simple but effective strategy. The brown leather binding blended perfectly with the other books. Finding it would be like trying to locate a needle in a haystack.

"There. Now, I promised to show you how to cheat at cards. Still interested?"

He indicated two chairs set on either side of a green baize-topped card table. She sat, and watched in awe as his nimble fingers picked up a pack of cards and shuffled them with such dexterity and speed that it was as if they came alive in his hands.

"I first saw this done in Venice, when I was just sixteen," Harry said. "In Italy it's known as gioco delle tre carte . In France it's called bonneteau . There are several variations on the theme, but the important thing is the way the three cards are held and tossed on the table."

He selected three cards from the pack, two black jacks and the queen of hearts, then turned them over so the backs were uppermost. He picked up one of the cards in his left hand, and two in his right, and showed her the queen as the bottom card of the pair. "Now, watch closely."

He tossed what appeared to be the bottom card—the queen—onto the table, then followed with the other two, laying them down in a straight line in front of her. He then moved the three cards around, switching their positions until he stopped and looked expectantly at Ellie.

"Where's the queen?"

Ellie pointed to the card she was sure was the right one. He turned it over to show a black jack.

"What?!"

He chuckled at her astonishment. "I made it look as though I threw down the queen first, but in truth I discarded the upper card, the jack. Watch again."

He picked up the cards and repeated his movements extremely slowly, using exaggerated motions to show how it was done. He curved the cards slightly in his hand, his big palms making it look easy. Then he repeated the trick at full speed, his hands moving so quickly that it was impossible to detect the substitution. Ellie chose the incorrect card again.

"It takes a lot of practice to be able to deceive people," he said, when she shook her head.

"But surely the person you're fooling occasionally chooses the queen, just by sheer luck."

"True. And when that happens, they win the pot. The frequency with which that happens, though, is very small. The odds are strongly in the dealer's favor."

"Don't you feel the slightest bit guilty for conning people out of their money?"

"Why should I? It's their greed and foolishness that makes them enter the game. They take part with the absolute certainty they're going to win. It's their choice. Shouldn't such arrogance be punished?"

Ellie frowned, unwilling to debate the point, but still stubbornly determined to beat him. "Give me one more chance."

His dimples appeared. "Think you're going to win?"

"Now that I know what you're doing, perhaps."

He laughed. "Very well. Let's make a bet. If you win, and find the queen, I'll kiss you."

She shook her head at his shameless maneuvering. "That's very magnanimous. And what if I lose?"

His eyes dropped to her lips, and she waited for him to say something like Then you'll kiss me .

Instead, he said, "If you lose, and select a jack, I'll take you straight back to King and Company."

She blinked, convinced he was joking, but he appeared completely serious.

Her spirits sank. He was so skilled at this game that the chances of him winning, and her losing, were extremely high. Had he changed his mind about wanting to bed her? Was he looking for a way out?

She didn't want to leave. Now there was the possibility of not kissing him, she wanted it more than anything in the world.

"So, you're leaving it up to luck," she said, pleased that her voice didn't betray her disappointment.

"I prefer to call it fate." His dimples appeared, dispelling his stern look, and the wicked glint in his eyes allayed her fears a little. He definitely still wanted her, but he was enough of a gambler to enjoy these heightened stakes.

"Very well. Go ahead."

He'd been shuffling the cards as they talked, but he showed her the red queen in his hand before he started to move them around on the table. Ellie wrinkled her brow, watching his hands with fierce concentration. When he stopped moving, she was certain the queen was the center card, but knowing his skill, she deliberately pointed to the left-hand card in the row. If the central card was unlikely to be the queen—simply because that was where she'd been led to believe it was—then she had at least a fifty percent chance of it being on the left.

His brows rose. "That one? Are you sure?"

He would be an excellent poker player. His expression didn't betray a thing. She couldn't tell if he was pleased, or disappointed.

She bit her lip and nodded.

Instead of turning the left card over, he inverted the one on the right, and she breathed a silent sigh of relief when it revealed a black jack. His hand hovered over the central card, deliberately teasing her, and she scowled at him.

Impatient, she reached for the central card herself, and flipped it over. The jack of clubs stared back at her, and her heart skipped a beat as he turned the queen of hearts over on the left.

His odd eyes met hers, one blue, one brown.

"You win."