Page 42 of A Wicked Game

“No,” he growled. “They dothese thingswith me because they feel like they’ll die if they don’t.”

“That’s a little dramatic, isn’t it?”

“Let me give you kiss number three and we’ll see what you have to say about it then,” he drawled. “I guarantee you’ll be screaming for more.”

Dear God. What arrogance!

Harriet was about to laugh when he raked a hand through his hair in a frustrated gesture and dipped his chin.

“Bloody hell. You’renot only doing this because of the bet, are you?”

His voice was quiet, more unsure than she’d ever heard before, and her conscience gave her an uncomfortable stab in the gut. Making him think he’d coerced her into doing something she didn’t want to do was a low blow. She’d been enjoying their byplay just as much as he had. More, probably. But how could she admit that without revealing how much she wanted him and humiliating herself?

“I have been enjoying the game,” she said carefully. “But you have to admit that you’ve twisted the rules. Youknew I was expecting to give you three kisses on the mouth, not grant you free rein to my body. I didn’t know what I was getting into.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he didn’t deny it.

“So what if… we make a new bet? Now I know exactly what’s at stake.”

He raised his brows for her to continue.

“If you win,” she said quickly, “I’ll willingly grant you kiss number three. Wherever you like.”

“And if you win?”

“Then I get to choose your forfeit.”

Harriet held her breath, praying that he’d agree.

“Fine,” he grumbled at last.

Her heart soared.

“What do you suggest?” he asked. “A coin toss? Game of cards?”

She shook her head. Both of those were too reliant on luck. She needed something she could definitely win. “A footrace.”

He gave a bark of surprised laughter. “Afootrace? You’re joking.”

“Not at all. Over a distance of a hundred yards.”

Morgan’s lips had resumed their customary curl. He shook his head, good humor fully restored. “You’re just delaying the inevitable. Look at us. Even if you wear those breeches instead of skirts, I’ll still win. I’m faster than you. It’s simple biology.”

Harriet held up a hand. “I have two stipulations. One, I get to choose the course. And two, you give me a twenty-foot head start. To compensate for all that unequal biology.”

“Done. Even so, there’s no way you’ll win.”

She tried and failed to keep the delighted grin off herface. Morgan might think he had the upper hand, but she had an ace up her sleeve.

“Shall we shake hands on it?” she suggested.

“Fine.” He took her outstretched hand and gave it a threateningly hard squeeze. “May the best man win.”

“Or woman.” She smiled at him. “And thank you, I intend to.”

Chapter Eighteen

Morgan was in a daze as he and Harriet made their way back to the ballroom, making sure not to be seen together. Harriet peeled off in the direction of the ladies’ cloakroom, and he slipped easily into the crowd of newcomers filing into the hall.