own prowess that you believe you could seduce me within six meetings?"
"Better reasoning," he acknowledged, "but still not good enough."
"I don't see why using one die should matter so much," she said in a tone just short of wheedling. "After all, I am agreeing to risk my reputation and my person for the sake of this wager. The least you could do is accommodate this request."
That smile of hers could probably charm birds from their leafy perches and well she knew it. He stroked his chin. "I suppose I might consider it ..."
"Excellent. I knew you'd come around," she said, beaming.
" ... if you'd grant me a request in return."
Her brow furrowed. "What sort of request?"
"Nothing much. Just a kiss. To seal the bargain, you understand."
" Another kiss?" she said with clear dismay.
"Yes, Miss Fines. A gesture of good faith on your part for all the concessions I am making." It was his turn to smile. "Unless you're afraid of kissing me again?"
NINE
Drat and double drat. Hunt thought he'd cornered her; she could tell by the arrogant look on his face, the relaxed line of his scar. Why was the man so ... befuddling? Earlier, she'd glimpsed a wholly unexpected side of him. A streak of kindness and nobility. He had shown compassion for that unfortunate boy and apparently many others as well. Though she cringed at how she'd maligned Hunt in that instance, the current ruthless set of his features sent a thrill of warning up her spine.
She gave her head a wary shake. "I cannot kiss you."
"Then I'm afraid I cannot agree to your request."
"That is not very gentlemanly, sir."
He lifted a sardonic brow in answer.
She tried to summon a viable alternative, but came up short. After Charity's report on Paul yesterday, Percy had known what needed to be done. Her friend's trembling voice played in her head.
Mr. Fines was not at all as I remember him. He was ... out of sorts, t-terribly so. Charity's face had drained of color. He's tired of hiding, he said, and doesn't give a ... a damn about anything anymore. Oh Percy, he said he's going to march over to Mr. Hunt and hand over his inheritance!
Percy straightened her shoulders. She could not allow her brother to destroy his future and their father's legacy on a drunken whim. She would not. And what difference would another kiss make? She'd made it through the other one unscathed, after all. And now she knew what to expect of Hunt. She could manage this.
"One kiss," she said, her nape tingling, "but I get to roll the die first."
He inclined his head and reached to the desk for the die. She came to stand beside him, her gloved hand held out. He dropped the ivory cube into her palm; given the fortunes lost and won by that small piece, its weight felt oddly insignificant.
She cupped her palms together and shook. In her head, she tried to visualize a single black dot. Please, God, let it be a one ...
"Praying doesn't help." Hunt's mocking voice cut through her focus. "Just so you know."
"Will you kindly stop talking and let me concentrate?"
"That doesn't help either," he said.
Gritting her teeth, she gave the die another shake and let it loose onto the blotter. The cube rolled several times, her heart flipping with each motion. When it teetered on an edge, her breath caught. All air whooshed from her lungs as the die fell.
On six .
"Devil take it!" The words burst from her.
"I think he already has, Miss Fines."
Her gaze cut to Hunt, who made no attempt to hide his look of satisfaction. Temper piqued, she said, "I ... I demand to roll again! You interrupted me."
"Tossing more than once was not part of the contract," he said. "I never took you for a welsher, Percy."
Despite her competitive nature, she believed in playing fair. He had the right of it, and it galled her to no end to know it. "I am not a spoilsport," she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest, "but you did interfere with my focus."
"As I said, it would not have made a lick of difference." He smiled, no
"Better reasoning," he acknowledged, "but still not good enough."
"I don't see why using one die should matter so much," she said in a tone just short of wheedling. "After all, I am agreeing to risk my reputation and my person for the sake of this wager. The least you could do is accommodate this request."
That smile of hers could probably charm birds from their leafy perches and well she knew it. He stroked his chin. "I suppose I might consider it ..."
"Excellent. I knew you'd come around," she said, beaming.
" ... if you'd grant me a request in return."
Her brow furrowed. "What sort of request?"
"Nothing much. Just a kiss. To seal the bargain, you understand."
" Another kiss?" she said with clear dismay.
"Yes, Miss Fines. A gesture of good faith on your part for all the concessions I am making." It was his turn to smile. "Unless you're afraid of kissing me again?"
NINE
Drat and double drat. Hunt thought he'd cornered her; she could tell by the arrogant look on his face, the relaxed line of his scar. Why was the man so ... befuddling? Earlier, she'd glimpsed a wholly unexpected side of him. A streak of kindness and nobility. He had shown compassion for that unfortunate boy and apparently many others as well. Though she cringed at how she'd maligned Hunt in that instance, the current ruthless set of his features sent a thrill of warning up her spine.
She gave her head a wary shake. "I cannot kiss you."
"Then I'm afraid I cannot agree to your request."
"That is not very gentlemanly, sir."
He lifted a sardonic brow in answer.
She tried to summon a viable alternative, but came up short. After Charity's report on Paul yesterday, Percy had known what needed to be done. Her friend's trembling voice played in her head.
Mr. Fines was not at all as I remember him. He was ... out of sorts, t-terribly so. Charity's face had drained of color. He's tired of hiding, he said, and doesn't give a ... a damn about anything anymore. Oh Percy, he said he's going to march over to Mr. Hunt and hand over his inheritance!
Percy straightened her shoulders. She could not allow her brother to destroy his future and their father's legacy on a drunken whim. She would not. And what difference would another kiss make? She'd made it through the other one unscathed, after all. And now she knew what to expect of Hunt. She could manage this.
"One kiss," she said, her nape tingling, "but I get to roll the die first."
He inclined his head and reached to the desk for the die. She came to stand beside him, her gloved hand held out. He dropped the ivory cube into her palm; given the fortunes lost and won by that small piece, its weight felt oddly insignificant.
She cupped her palms together and shook. In her head, she tried to visualize a single black dot. Please, God, let it be a one ...
"Praying doesn't help." Hunt's mocking voice cut through her focus. "Just so you know."
"Will you kindly stop talking and let me concentrate?"
"That doesn't help either," he said.
Gritting her teeth, she gave the die another shake and let it loose onto the blotter. The cube rolled several times, her heart flipping with each motion. When it teetered on an edge, her breath caught. All air whooshed from her lungs as the die fell.
On six .
"Devil take it!" The words burst from her.
"I think he already has, Miss Fines."
Her gaze cut to Hunt, who made no attempt to hide his look of satisfaction. Temper piqued, she said, "I ... I demand to roll again! You interrupted me."
"Tossing more than once was not part of the contract," he said. "I never took you for a welsher, Percy."
Despite her competitive nature, she believed in playing fair. He had the right of it, and it galled her to no end to know it. "I am not a spoilsport," she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest, "but you did interfere with my focus."
"As I said, it would not have made a lick of difference." He smiled, no
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