Page 65 of How to Fall for a Scoundrel
The barmaid tilted her chin subtly in the direction of a card table set in the far corner. It had drawn the largest crowd, but without her glasses Ellie couldn’t see the players at all.
“He’s over there, wearing a bottle-green coat and brown boots,” Kitty said. “He’s been here for an hour or so, and won most hands. He’s been drinking, but he’s not drunk.”
“Has he wagered the jewel you saw the other night?” Harry asked.
Kitty’s eyes widened in admiration as she glanced up at Harry, and her cheeks dimpled prettily. “He hasn’t, but that’s probably only because he hasn’t needed to. The stakes haven’t been high enough.”
“Then it’s high time someone gave him a proper game.” Harry smiled, and Ellie rolled her eyes at the way Kitty giggled in response.
Honestly, did the man have to flirt with every woman in a skirt?
“Thank you, Kitty,” she said. “If your information proves to be right, you’ll get the five pounds we agreed.”
Kitty nodded and bustled off, and they moved closer to the corner table.
Christopher Blake sat easily in his chair, and played with a speed and assurance that even to Ellie’s untrained eye seemed extremely confident. His face was thin and clever-looking, but there was a cynical curl to his lips and an air of impatience about him that made her oddly uncomfortable.
The game was vingt-et-un, and Harry pressed close to her back in the crowd as they watched the next couple of rounds. His fingers still rested on her hip, and her mouth grew dry at the feel of his strong body pressing up against hers every time someone in the crowd jostled them. It was slow, delicious torture, and she thought with a silent laugh that she didn’t need to be drunk to feel “insatiably amorous” toward him. He was horribly addictive.
She forced herself to stay still as he stroked aside her curls to expose her neck, then dropped his head so his chin touched her shoulder and his lips brushed her ear.
It’s a game. I’m the harlot he’s paid to accompany him tonight.
But her body couldn’t seem to tell the difference. Her blood pulsed thickly in her veins, and for the first time in her life she envied girls like Kitty, who could take their pleasure with any man they fancied, without fear of social ostracism.
“I’ve seen enough,” Harry murmured.
Ellie turned her head, just a fraction. Her lips were so close to his that his warm breath shivered across them.
“Is he cheating?” she breathed. “Or just very good?”
“Oh, he’s cheating, all right. And he’s extremely good at it too.”
“Is he working with an accomplice?”
Harry’s hand slid to her lower back, and she suppressed a shudder of desire.
“No. But he’s dealing the best cards to himself, bringing the ones he wants to the top of the pack, then shuffling the deck in such a way that he has the advantage.”
“What about when another player shuffles?”
“I suspect he’s also marked some of the cards, by nicking the edges with his thumbnail, or something similar, so he knows where certain cards are, even face down.”
“Impressive.”
“I’m better.”
He chuckled as she deliberately nudged her shoulder into him to punish him for his arrogance.
“Pride comes before a fall,” she chided softly.
His lips ghosted the shell of her ear. “It’s not arrogance if it’s true. Now let me get to work and stop distracting me.”
A moment later, Blake’s last remaining opponent let out a groan and dropped his cards face down on the table in defeat. Blake gave a knowing grin and scooped the pile of coins in the center of the table toward him. He took a deep swig of ale from the tankard at his side, then glanced around with an air of challenge.
“Anyone else want to try their hand? Who knows, I’ve had the Devil’s own luck tonight. It has to end sometime.” He smirked, as if not truly believing it.
“I’ll play a few rounds with you, sir.”