Page 7 of A Wager With A Rake (Wicked Widows #32)

Court

T he flickering candlelight cast long shadows across Court’s study as he pored over the ledgers spread before him.

Trying as he might to focus on the columns of figures, his mind kept drifting to Theodosia, much as it had done for the past several days.

He couldn’t stop picturing the curve of her neck, the sparkle in her eyes when she challenged him, and the wicked moans she made.

Court had never been one to lose himself over a woman, yet she had somehow seeped into his every thought, igniting a restlessness he hadn’t yet been able to shake. And all he’d done was kiss her.

With a frustrated sigh, he pushed the ledgers aside and reached for a folded piece of parchment tucked just inside the top drawer of his desk.

He unfolded the worn paper and ran his finger down the list of crossed-out items, a litany of his father’s misdeeds he had vowed to make right.

The matters that, once rectified, would prove to himself that he was a better man than his father had believed him to be.

Near the bottom, he paused at the word “Rosewood,” now struck through with a bold line.

“Rosewood is mine,” he murmured, a bittersweet ache in his chest as he recalled the disappointment that winning the estate had caused for Theodosia.

Many years ago, losing Rosewood had been a devastating blow when his father gambled it away.

Winning it back from Theodosia’s drunkard father had been immensely satisfying, though the victory now felt somewhat hollow.

He had enjoyed visiting the estate as a boy with his mother and sister.

It was one of the few places he felt peace because his father rarely attended with them, and he didn’t have to suffer his father’s continual verbal lashings and lips pursed with disappointment.

His gaze fell to the last item on the list, the only one yet uncrossed. One that had proven difficult to complete until he could learn the location of the woman in question.

A sharp rap at the study door jolted Court from his thoughts. Hastily folding the list and returning it to its place in the drawer, he called out, “Enter!”

The door swung open to reveal Court’s butler, Brown, who entered, announcing a merchant that Court had requested to bring a collection of items for him to see.

A portly gentleman with a shock of white hair and an enormous mustache entered the room. The man bowed deeply, his round belly straining against the buttons of his waistcoat.

“Mr. Fitzgerald, at your service, my lord,” he announced in a surprisingly high-pitched voice. “I’ve brought the… items you requested.”

Court’s eyebrows shot up. “Ah, yes. Do come in.”

As Mr. Fitzgerald waddled into the study, Court’s gaze fell upon the leather case he carried. His pulse quickened, anticipating what the man had brought.

“I trust you have a varied selection?” Court asked, keeping his voice steady.

Mr. Fitzgerald’s mustache twitched with barely concealed amusement. “Indeed, my lord. Only the finest for a gentleman of your standing.”

With a flourish, he opened the case on Court’s desk, revealing an array of intricately carved phalluses of various sizes and materials.

Court cleared his throat, heat creeping up his neck. “I see. And these are all… suitable for a lady’s use?”

“Oh, most certainly,” Mr. Fitzgerald chirped. “This ivory one is particularly popular among the fairer sex. Smooth as silk, you see.”

As Court examined the items, his mind wandered to Theodosia.

Would her jaw drop? Would she be rendered speechless by such a gift?

Outraged? Or perhaps… intrigued? It was highly improper, but when had he ever been a model of propriety?

Most would agree this was a tame display compared to what the ton thought of him.

“I’ll take that one,” Court decided, pointing to a sleek, medium-sized piece crafted from polished rosewood.

The irony of the material was not lost on him.

And his ego wouldn’t allow him to select a size that outmatched his own.

Which was more than substantial, if he said so himself.

Not that he felt threatened enough by an inanimate object to whip out his cock to compare.

The men completed their business with Court giving the man the required amount of coin to complete his purchase, while the man placed the piece in a box and wrapped it.

After Mr. Fitzgerald departed, Court paced his study, the wrapped package weighing heavily in his hands.

Was he truly going to send the piece to Theodosia?

The very thought made his blood run hot as coals.

She would be far too enticing. He’d intended the gift to be a joke, but deep down he hoped she might use it and think of him when she did.

Even better, he wanted to be the one to introduce her to it.

Unable to bear the confines of his home any longer, alone with his thoughts, Court grabbed his coat.

“I need a drink,” he muttered, heading for the door.

And perhaps another woman to help him forget all about Theodosia.

If he’d bedded her, he’d have been able to move on.

She was only stuck in his thoughts because she had turned him down.

That was all. Another woman would erase the memory and ease the ache between his taut legs.

After a quarter-hour carriage ride, convincing himself that a few ales and a beautiful woman would ensure he slept well that evening, his carriage rolled to a stop in front of his village’s tavern.

The Golden Lion was bustling with life, with scantily dressed barmaids and drunk men singing bawdy lyrics.

Court found a spot at the bar, ordered a tankard, and let his gaze sweep across the crowd.

As was typical for him, he’d already captured the attention of a few women. They returned his gaze with enchanting smiles and suggestive glances. They could surely tell from his clothing that he was a lord and would have ample funds to make their time in his presence worthwhile.

A striking redhead approached with a confident slink toward him. “Looking for company, handsome?” she purred, her finger tracing a line down his arm.

Court downed his ale and motioned for another. “Perhaps.” He wasn’t so sure, but another ale might aid in deciding for him.

“I promise I can make it worth your while,” she said, shifting so her barely covered breasts were in his direct line of vision.

But his reaction—or lack thereof—irritated and confused him.

He had never remained flaccid from the presence of a beautiful woman, as thoughts of Theodosia clouded his mind.

Even more ale was needed, indeed. He’d forget about Theodosia as he got another beautiful woman beneath him, or against a wall, and he’d finally cure himself from what plagued him.

Once he had a fresh tankard, he drained it with several swallows. The ale would wash Theodosia away and he’d be free. Several nights of brandy hadn’t done so, but ale and a busty beauty would set his mind and body right.

The redhead reached forward and massaged his inner thigh there at the bar for anyone to see. Not that he was a prude, but something about her hand on him brought a taste of ash to his tongue. And his head spun from the tankards of ale on an empty stomach.

Theodosia’s far too beautiful face held in his mind as his eyelids became heavier. The feeling of the woman’s hand on his inner thigh crept higher and, just before she reached his falls, he gripped her wrist.

“No. Not tonight.” What in the devil was wrong with him?

“You don’t mean that, my lord,” she whispered. “I can do all the things you like.”

Court stood and kicked the barstool out from beneath him.

It pained him because he did mean it, unsure why he felt like he’d be doing something wrong if he allowed the woman to touch him.

It was preposterous. He and Theodosia didn’t have an arrangement.

She wasn’t his, and he most certainly wasn’t hers.

He didn’t belong to anyone and never would.

He’d always been free to fuck whomever he wished and could do so without guilt at present.

But yet, his cock was as limp as could be, and it was deuced maddening.

And he certainly didn’t want the woman to realize as such.

She’d think he didn’t fancy an interest in women. “I must depart.”

He dropped coins on the bar, grabbed his hat, and hurried away from the woman before she could say anything else.

Court stumbled out into the cool night air, frustration and desire warring within him. He refused to go the rest of his life without the feel of a woman wrapped around his cock, so he’d better work through whatever had taken hold of him, and quickly.

Once he was inside his carriage, each moment that passed left alone with his own thoughts was a reminder of his growing obsession with a woman he couldn’t have.

Back in his bedchamber after he’d grumpily sent his valet away and undressed himself before crawling into his bed, Court tossed and turned, sleep eluding him.

In moments where he thought he might sleep, Theodosia’s face haunted him, and then finally his cock decided it did, in fact, recall how to rise for the occasion.

He imagined what it would be like to feel her soft skin beneath his fingertips and bite into her bottom lip as he sank inside of her, making her gasp in pleasure.

“Damn it all,” he groaned, punching his pillow. It was going to be a very long night indeed.

As dawn’s pale light crept through the curtains, Court stared at the fabric covering his four-poster bed, his mind a haze of exhaustion and longing.

Sleep hadn’t come easily, but he wasn’t certain he could say the same for himself.

His eyes drifted open and his stomach was covered with his spend.

He hadn’t even recalled doing so, which was even more maddening.

His cock was still hard and aching for her.

He’d always thought she was beautiful, but he’d never given the notion of bedding her much thought.

So why was she so hard to remove from his every thought?

After being married to the aged Dundas, she probably didn’t even know the first thing about what to do in the bedchamber, so why on earth was his mind stuck on her?

The thought of her with her husband was enough to rid him of his immediate desire.

He supposed he should give silent thanks to have relief from his silly longing, but it had been replaced with irritation that her father would marry her to such a dastardly man.

It was no wonder their fathers ran in the same circles. They were both arses.

Giving up on sleep, he reached for the bell pull, then washed his face, as well as his hand and stomach, at the washbasin, appreciating the cool water against his skin.

His valet, Jenkins, appeared. “Good morning, my lord. I brought up your correspondence with me.”

Court took the envelopes from him, Jenkins not fazed at all that he still stood there completely naked.

He rifled through the stack of letters, and an intriguing seal caught his eye. His heart raced as he broke the wax and unfolded the missive. It was her. He was no better than a girl in the schoolroom at the way his mood changed, knowing she had written to him.

He quickly read the missive silently to himself. Court, I request for you to meet me at Rosewood in three weeks’ time from the date of this letter. I have a proposition that I believe will be of great interest to you. See you soon. Theodosia

The letter was dated exactly a week ago.

Court’s cock throbbed. “A proposition?” he murmured, a slow smile spreading across his face.

She must have been as affected as he was.

He’d most certainly be there. If she wished to take him up on his offer to bring her to his bed, it would suit them both.

And then he could go about his life in the same fashion he’d always done. On his own terms.

“My lord,” Jenkins mumbled, averting his gaze. “Should I return later?”

Court shook his head at himself from the realization that his cock protruded proudly in front of the man. The realization helped to quell his desire. He grabbed his banyan and wrapped it around himself.

“That won’t be necessary, Jenkins,” Court replied. Not that he couldn’t make quick work of stroking himself if given a few moments, but departing for Rosewood was far more important. “I wish to dress at once. We have a trip to plan.”

It would be the longest couple of weeks in his life until he met Theodosia and agreed to whatever this proposition of hers was. He would do whatever it took to get her into his bed.