Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

AUGUSTA

M y heart pounds so hard behind my breastbone, I fear he must hear it. Sweat gathers at the nape of my neck as I continue to shuffle the cards, contemplating my options. While here, he cannot do anything.

To expose me would lead to my ruin and thus the ruination of my brother. He wouldn't do that to a friend. Besides, the longer I hold out, the harder I might feel his fierce touch against my skin.

"I. Am. Waiting," he growls, the sound dancing over my skin and trailing down below.

"I understand your predicament, good sir," I rasp out in my false manly voice. "But I have no other option but to stay and try my luck. Here, I am nigh untouchable. You could, perhaps, throw something else into the pot to sweeten the deal?"

His jaw jumps as his teeth grind together. Perhaps I'm pushing him too far? But then, really, what recourse do I have?

"Allow me to enlighten you, minx. You are already to be tawsed without the aid of my hand first. Continue in this fashion and I will make it oh so much worse."

I bite down on my lower lip, unsure of what to do next. The pain from the tawse was extreme. In truth, it was his hand that tempered the sting, morphing it into bliss.

"You surely cannot attempt to do so in my house again. At this hour, we will gather all manner of undue attention."

"I never said I was going to deliver my punishment at your house. You are indeed correct in your thinking. Now will you cease this stalling? I'm half a mind to toss you over my shoulder and pretend you're far too deep in your cups to stand on your own."

Again, I hesitate, this back and forth causing the most delicious churning in my stomach. "Surely your servants will talk."

"I'm not taking you to my house either," he grinds out, anger blazing in the depths of his eyes.

His words pique my curiosity, propelling me to end this tête-à-tête. "Fascinating proposition, good sir, but shall we make a wager before we away?"

With a heavy sigh, he pinches the bridge of his nose. "You try my patience in the very worst way. What wager do you think to entice me with?"

"One draw each. High card. If I win, you will most certainly use your hand and make every strike feel amazing."

One arch of his dark brown brow is all I get in response. After a moment, he leans forward, his eyes glinting. "I will take your wager. If I win, however, you will receive no gentle touch of my hand before the act, and I will add to the punishment in a way of my choosing. Are we of an accord?"

I stare at the Duke, my hands turning clammy as I contemplate his rebuttal. Unfortunately, there's nothing left to do but to call his bluff. Again, I shuffle the cards and lay them in between us.

"Oh no, my devious minx. I do not trust you not to have some trick up your sleeve." From his coat pocket, he produces his own deck of cards.

Heat fans my face at his veiled accusation. "You dare accuse me of cheating? I've had others thrown out of here for less."

His mouth drops open as the cards plop onto the table. "Just how long have you frequented here, moonlighting as someone you're not?"

Blast. If only I kept my mouth shut. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of an answer.

"Don't bother trying to think of a lie, minx. Your words already betrayed you. Let's see to our wager then leave this place. If honor is as important as you claim, then I have your word you will leave with nary a fuss."

Sullen, I sit back in the chair, furious at myself for being caught. "Nary a fuss."

"Good. At least in that, we have an agreement. To meet you in good faith, I will spread my cards for you to see that I, too, do not game the deck."

As I go to grab my own deck to slide my precious cards into the safety of my jacket, he places his hand on mine and swipes them out from under me with the other. "You have no further need of these. I will keep them safe for now."

Tears prick my eyes as I jolt up, prepared to snatch them back. "They were my Father's."

"Sit, before you call any more attention our way. I'm merely holding onto them for the moment. No harm will come to them. As a gentleman, I give you my word."

"I don't trust it," I hiss.

Hurt and anger swirl inside me until I'm nearly blinded by emotion. How dare he handle something so precious to me?

"You will simply have to. I have never lied to you before, and I don't plan on starting now."

Flipping his deck over so the numbers and face cards show, he fans them out, allowing me to inspect for any duplicates or schemes. I take my time, drawing it out, even though I can clearly see they're without tampering. Eventually, I have no choice but to concede.

"To make this even more fair, I will have a neutral party shuffle and deal. Is this amenable to you?"

"It is. But I wish to change the conditions."

"Oh?" Again, that infernal eyebrow raises, making my pulse pound and my thighs quiver. "A bit late in the process to do so, don't you think?"

"The cards are not dealt yet. I can make my request."

"I will hear it but make no guarantee about agreeing to changes."

"Fair enough. If I win, I get my deck back. You may discipline me without the aid of your hand."

His lips split into a wide grin. "How lucky do you feel tonight? For I wish to make an amendment of my own. If I win, I will not only add to your punishment, but keep your cards as payment for such a hellacious evening."

I stare at the deck in longing. He holds it gently in his grasp, rocking it back and forth in an enticing manner. Do I dare?

"And if I refuse your amendment?"

"Then I refuse yours and keep your deck until I see fit."

Blast. Either way, I lose. "I will agree to your terms."

With a nod, he waves down a man milling about, supervising the tables and bets. "Croupier, we would be forever in your debt if you were to shuffle the cards and deal one to each of us face down."

"My honor, gentlemen."

I bristle at the look of irritation on the Duke's face at his address. For me, it merely confirms I'm able to slip into this ilk unawares. No doubt, that is what vexes him the most.

The man shuffles, his fingers flying over the deck with a speed I have yet to master. All those who work here possess such skill. Indeed, I do envy them, and try out what I've learned when playing at home with my aunt.

I'm so mesmerized, I almost miss the card being placed in front of me.

"That is all," the duke booms. "I am grateful for your assistance."

He gives a curt bow. "My pleasure. May the cards show in your favor."

"Yes," Portswell growls as the man walks away, his fingers hovering over his card. "May it show in mine."

The heat of his gaze sears me as he stares me down. "Or," I tease back, not sure what's come over me. "May it show in mine."

"Enough stalling. Ladies first."

My fingers tremble as I flip the card over. The Queen of hearts stares up at me, making my heart flutter for an entirely different reason.

"The Queen is indeed a high card," he murmurs.

"Frightened, Your Grace?"

"Never," he shoots back, his brows furrowing. "Even if your card does indeed prove to be higher, which it probably will, I lose nothing. Your arse will be tender to the touch by the time you lay your head on the pillow to sleep."

My core clenches at the promise in his words. But then, little does he realize my loss is also my gain. Three days I've mourned the waning sensations in my body. So with this card, I plan to win it all.

As his card flips, my heart instantly sinks. The king of diamonds. How on earth can one man be so lucky?

"Seems as if king trumps all. Now then. As you agreed."

My stomach plummets as I put my card back onto the stack. Of all the luck. Rotten, rotten luck. His lips thin into a wan smile as he gathers his deck and slides it into his pocket, along with mine. It was daft of me to bet that deck.

"Are there any debts you need to collect on before we go?"

"No, Your Grace," I murmur. "All is as it should be."

"Then follow me."

The low din of the establishment quiets down until I can't hear a thing. All I can hear is a strange whooshing noise as it floods my ears and threatens to shut down my brain. My pulse pounds under my skin, driving me to scratch at my wrists. But I don't dare draw attention to how he's making me feel.

I'm hot and cold all at once. I'm clammy, yet feverish. I've seen Portswell angry before, but nothing like this. There's a calm quiet about him, like the dead before the storm. Have I bitten off more than I can chew?

Once we step through the doors and into the road, the cool air of London kisses my cheeks, bringing me back to the present. Should I run? Should I try to escape? It's not as if he'd hunt me down and thrash me in my own home. His honor would forbid it.

As if he can guess the tenor of my thoughts, he grabs my arm and hauls me next to his side. "One false step, and I'll haul you over my shoulder like I threatened earlier. Now be a good little minx and honor your promises."

Blast. I don't want him to think any less of me than he already does. I fall in step with him, walking through the streets to parts unknown. Perhaps if I plead my case, he'll be more lenient toward me.

"You must understand-"

"I care to understand nothing," he growls out. "You will walk in silence. There will be plenty of time to speak your fill when I strap you into place."

Blood drains from my face. "Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere you will never wish to return."

As we walk by, women lean outside of doorways, wide grins on their faces. "Oi. Care to sup at Sally's? Only the best for gents such as yourself."

"Thank you for the kind invite," Portswell says while tipping his hat. "But we are expected elsewhere."

"Come then," she cackles. "You'll find no better meal. Nice and warm. Ready to eat."

At that moment, my stomach begins to growl. Tugging on the duke's shoulder, I attempt to stall for time once more. "I am a bit hungry. Perhaps one bite won't-"

"There now! A lad who knows what he's after."

"Forgive us, kind lady," the duke answers, hauling me backward. "But we cannot tarry."

"But-"

He gives me a murderous glare. "The only thing on her menu is pussy. And I don't think you wish to sample any of that tonight."

"Cat? They serve cat?" My lips curl up in disgust as I try to put distance between us.

The woman cackles, her laugh bouncing around the streets. "Get you a green one there, did you? No harm in letting Sally be his first meal."

"Again, I'm afraid we must away. His first meal is spoken for."

"Who in their right mind eats cat?" I hiss, the sound of her maniacal laughter following us.

"Bloody innocent," he grumbles, pulling me along until we're in a far more acceptable area.

We stop short in front of a beautiful house, but it's not one I recognize. "Is this your place of residence? I thought you were taking me elsewhere."

"No. This place is your perdition."