Almost Perfect by Denise Domning Page B

were.
    “You don’t mind playing for coins instead of using counters?” His smile was both threat and promise. He didn’t expect to lose his kiss.
    “Of course not,” she replied, a shiver coursing up her spine. She was far too susceptible to him. This match must end as soon as possible, before his charm overwhelmed her sense.
    “What game shall we play?” he asked.
    “Why not Speculation?” she replied, unable to think of a game better fitted to her needs. The hands played quickly and if she raised the value of a point it could prove very lucrative in a short period of time. “What do you say to a ten shillings a point with a reckoning after ten hands?” she suggested, finding a certain symmetry to the thought of winning five hands, then losing five to keep five pounds.
    Lucien paused mid-shuffle to look at her, his gaze lambent. “That’s a little steep even for a game as unusual as ours, Mrs. Marston. Indeed, it’s so steep I might think you eager to lose.”
    The raw sensual edge to his voice stirred something deep and hidden within Cassie. He was utterly convinced she meant to seduce him while she wasn’t certain that she didn’t want him to seduce her. Oh Lord, but she needed to put distance between them, and soon.
    “That’s something only the cards can determine, my lord.” Cassie relaxed into her chair as best she could. “You may take the first deal.”

The match went well enough through the first hands. Even with Duchess Eleanor’s constant complaining at the nearby table and the laughter from those guests who hadn’t gone out of doors, Cassie had no difficulty reading Lucien’s face and form. She easily sensed when to stay, when to buy cards and when to speculate. Just as she planned she lost a little the first game, won substantially in the next, then lost a little again, gaining, her tiny pile of coins growing. By her fifth game she had almost eight pounds, something that left Lucien frowning in surprise.
    In keeping with her pattern Cassie lost that game, returning some of what she’d earned. Then, luck happened. In each of the next two hands she drew several penalty cards, each one costing her ten shillings. She lost both of those hands, decreasing her winnings to three pounds.
    What had she been thinking, setting an arbitrary end to their match? Now, to leave the table with the five pounds he’d promised her and that she so desperately needed she’d have to win all of their remaining games and that might well win her an accusation as a sharp from Lucien. Cassie gritted her teeth and won the next two hands, but only managed to return her winnings to just four pounds, ten shillings.
    The tenth and final deal belonged to her. As she shuffled she watched Lucien. He was the consummate gambler, his expression flat, his eyes revealing nothing in their depths.
    Ah, but it wasn’t just a man’s face that exposed his thoughts. Cassie eyed the taut line of his shoulders and the way he held his right hand, working the ring he wore on his third finger. Those two aspects announced his intention to win the next hand, even if he did so by will alone.
    That wasn’t all she saw. The creases at the corners of his eyes screamed of suspicion, something she couldn’t afford. If Lucien believed he’d been cheated he’d demand a rematch. Convention required she honor the request. Even if she lost every hand in that match the damage would be done.
    Cassie’s future couldn’t afford the scrutiny. She had to lose. Giving Lucien his kiss meant she remained free to gamble.
    She dealt, sensing as she laid down the cards that his hand was the weaker. She lost by refusing to speculate. Across the table Lucien smiled in satisfaction then gathered up the pot. The creases at the corners of his eyes relaxed.
    “You played well,” he offered as if to console.
    “Good of you to say, my lord,” she replied, repressing her urge to snort at his lie. She’d played that last game like a fool and he knew it, but