Your Scandalous Ways by Loretta Chase Page A

“Would you care to make a wager?”
    His attention snapped back to her face.
    The tension in the felze increased by a factor of ten.
    â€œI don’t wager with women,” he said. “It’s unsporting.”
    â€œMen so often say that when the truth is, they can’t bear the mortification of losing to a woman.”
    â€œI don’t lose,” he said.
    â€œYou will,” she said. “Let me see. What shall it be?” She closed her eyes briefly, thinking. When she opened them, they glinted. “I know. There’s a peridot parure at Faranzi’s shop that took my fancy.”
    â€œMerely peridots? You don’t rate your powers very high.”
    â€œI’m rating your income,” she said. “You’ll find these peridots painfully expensive. You’ll have toborrow to pay for them. But they aren’t beyond the borrowing abilities of one of Lord Westwood’s younger sons.”
    â€œI see. You wish it to be not merely a costly wager, but a painful and humiliating one.”
    She nodded. “Well?”
    â€œAnd if you lose?”
    â€œI won’t,” she said. “But if it soothes your masculine pride to imagine you’ll win, then by all means choose a forfeit.”
    The letters, James thought. The reason I’m obliged to tangle with you. All I want is the damn letters, curse you. But even if that had been completely true, if the letters were all he wanted, it was the one forfeit he couldn’t ask for.
    â€œThe peridots,” he said.
    That did surprise her. She took her hand away from her cheek and tipped her head to one side, studying him.
    â€œThey’ll be a gift to my betrothed,” he said.
    She blinked. “You’re betrothed?”
    It was an easy lie, too easy. He was far too angry to utter it. “Not yet,” he said. “But before too long. It will be a fine symbol for my bride-to-be. It will signify my ability to defend my principles and honor in the face of all-but-irresistible temptation.”
    Her exotic eyes narrowed. “There’ll be no all-but about it.”
    â€œWe’ll see,” he said. “Name your time and place.”
    She glanced out of the window. “Now,” she said. “We’ve plenty of time before we reach my house. This shouldn’t take so long, at any rate.”
    Her confidence—hell, her insolence—was beyondanything. It was infuriating. Knowing he was in a temper, he should have held his tongue. He should have given himself time to cool down and think. But he was too angry—with her, with himself.
    â€œDo your worst,” he said.
    Â 
    Francesca couldn’t remember when last she’d been so furious.
    She’d made a fool of herself last night, and now he presumed she was his for the taking—if and when he felt like it.
    To him, she was merely a whore.
    You are, a rational voice within reminded her. You chose to be.
    True enough. Nonetheless, the pearls he called a sign of men’s weakness were in fact a sign of respect, a sign of her power.
    Since she’d left England—that frigid island of provincials, Puritans, and hypocrites—no man had shown her disrespect…except this one.
    An Englishman, naturally. Half an Englishman, to be precise, but half was more than enough.
    He needed desperately to be taught a lesson.
    Unhurriedly she slid shut the casement beside her and closed the blinds. She reached across him, letting her bosom brush against his chest, and closed the window and blinds on his side.
    As she moved back to her place, she felt his chest rise and fall a little faster than it had done a moment earlier.
    She folded her hands in her lap. “There,” she said. “No one can see.”
    â€œThere won’t be anything to see,” he said.
    â€œWe’ll see,” she said.
    She looked down at her hands. She looked at them for a while, making him wait.
    Since he sat to her right,