The Duke's Proposal

by Sophie Weston

  Niall gave her another of his most charming smiles. Jemima’s suspicion redoubled.

  ‘Give it a chance,’ he said. ‘Like walking on the beach. Small steps, one at a time. You’ll get there.’

  Her eyebrows twitched together savagely. Not suspicious any more. Certain. He was laughing at her and he was trying to seduce her. What sort of an idiot did he think she was?

  This time the smile was downright caressing. ‘We’ll take everything. And see how far the lady wants to go,’ Niall told Al wickedly.

  Jemima met his eyes and said deliberately, ‘The lady knows exactly how far she is going to go.’ Then, to Al, ‘Just the fish and the salad, please.’

  Al was philosophical. ‘Shame. Maybe another time.’ He made a note. ‘Are you going to the casino tonight?’

  Niall was serene. ‘Of course.’

  Al shifted from foot to foot. ‘Sure? I mean—a night off wouldn’t hurt.’

  Niall cocked his head. ‘Listening to gossip, Al?’

  Al looked uncomfortable. ‘You know your own business best,’ he said unconvincingly. ‘I’ll tell Ellie two fish, then, shall I?’ And he almost took off at a run.

  Jemima watched his disorderly retreat with astonishment.

  ‘What was that about?’

  ‘Al trying to save me from myself.’ Niall picked up his beer and toasted her silently.

  ‘What?’

  ‘He was suggesting I spend a charming evening with you instead of going over to the Casino Caraibe as I usually do,’ he interpreted.

  ‘Oh.’

  Jemima digested this. She was not pleased.

  Why did Niall have to have it suggested to him? Not that she would go, of course. Of course she wouldn’t. But still, he should have thought of it for himself. Men did not normally need prompting to ask her on a date.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Thank you, Al, ‘she muttered.

  Niall looked startled.

  So startled that Jemima was even more annoyed. ‘Well?’ she said pugnaciously. ‘Are you going to ask me to go to the casino with you, then?’

  ‘No,’ said Niall with unflattering promptness.

  Jemima gasped.

  He seemed to work out that he was not giving satisfaction. He said, on a faint note of apology, ‘I’m a professional gambler. It’s my work. Would you take a complete stranger into the office with you?’

  Jemima was so flabbergasted that all she could think of to say was, ‘I don’t work in an office.’

  He shrugged. ‘Wherever. My point is that you don’t party when you’re earning the monthly wage.’ He gave her one of his slow, seductive smiles. ‘Ask me any other time but the evening and I’ll be head of the queue.’

  Jemima was outraged. For a moment she could hardly speak. ‘You just overwhelm me.’

  He grinned suddenly. When he smiled like that, his eyes crinkled up at the corners and two deep clefts appeared on either side of that sensual mouth. They were just begging to be touched. Stroked.

  Jemima sat on her hands. Fast.

  ‘Overwhelm you? I don’t think any guy would overwhelm you.’ he said ruefully. ‘Certainly not me. I just annoy you. Even when I’m not trying to.’

  That shook her. ‘You’ve been trying to annoy me?’

  His eyes danced. ‘You’re beautiful when you’re angry, Miss Cooper.’

  At last Jemima’s sense of humour reasserted itself. Two could play at this game. ‘I’m beautiful all the time,’ she said calmly. ‘Got the references to prove it.’

  She watched with glee as his eyebrows hit his hairline.

  He recovered well. ‘Poets write you sonnets?’

  Jemima put her head on one side. She was enjoying herself. ‘Something like that.’

  Niall was clearly intrigued. ‘You’re an artist’s model? An artist’s inspiration? A weather girl?’

  She shook her head, laughing. ‘Keep trying.’

  Niall snapped his fingers. ‘You are Kuan Yin, the goddess of good fortune. Come down to earth in human form.’

  ‘Goddess is good,’ she said naughtily.

  He did the crinkled eyes trick again. ‘Then I’m changing my mind,’ he announced. ‘If you’re the goddess of good fortune, then Al was right. You’re coming with me to the casino.’

  Jemima stopped laughing abruptly. ‘What?’

  He raised his glass to her. ‘Welcome to the world of Niall Blackthorne, adventurer.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THERE was a covered walkway to the casino. It was lit by Chinese lanterns and discreet low-level lights tucked among the bushes. It was pretty and safe and civilised, like a path through a suburban garden.

  But as they walked Jemima heard things rustling in the dark beyond the lights, things that darted and croaked and grunted. Beyond the lights, it did not sound safe and civilised at all. And the man beside her was no reassurance. He was much too unpredictable.

  Niall Blackthorne, adventurer! What did that mean?

  She said dryly, ‘If the rhinoceros stampedes, can I count on you to save me?’

  He looked down at her and did that sexy eyebrow-flick again. ‘Rhinoceros?’

  She waved a hand at the shadows of bushes beyond the walkway. ‘The one that’s stamping around in the undergrowth.’

  Niall gave a shout of laughter. ‘Sounds as if you haven’t taken Africa in yet.’

  Jemima bridled. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘A rhinoceros would be in full surround-sound.’

  ‘You’ve met lots of them, I suppose?’

  He shook his head, still laughing. ‘You don’t meet a rhinoceros. You get out of its way fast. I’ve legged it away from a couple, yes.’

  Jemima’s eyes narrowed to slits. ‘So that’s what an adventurer is,’ she mused.

  That threw him. ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘I was wondering what an adventurer was, exactly. And now you’ve answered the problem for me.’ She beamed at him, all innocence. ‘Someone who runs away from wildlife.’

  But Niall was not crushed by the put-down, not a smidgeon. He said with odious kindness, ‘You know, you really have got to visit Africa. You’ve got a lot to learn about nature. Let me tell you, there’s wildlife and wildlife.’

  Jemima did not like being patronised. She said sharply, ‘And I suppose you’re personally acquainted with whatever it is that’s clog-dancing in the bushes over there?’

  His eyes danced. ‘Well, at a guess I’d say it’s an agouti.’

  Jemima had never heard the word before. ‘You made that up.’

  He shook his head solemnly. ‘Cross my heart.’

  ‘I don’t believe you. Nothing could be called an agouti,’ Jemima said positively. ‘It sounds halfway between a zombie and an angora rabbit.’

  ‘Actually, it’s a sort of grown-up guinea pig.’

  ‘Oh, pu-lease.’

  ‘Why does the woman not believe me?’ he asked a Chinese lantern, mock mournful.

  Jemima was crushing. ‘Because I had guinea pigs as a child. I know they only come in one size.’

  He shook his head. ‘You sure you’ve been to the Caribbean before? They’re not hard to spot.’

  ‘The last time I was in the Caribbean I—’ Too late she realised where this was taking her and skidded to a halt.

  ‘Yes?’ he asked mildly. ‘The last time you—?’

  ‘Wasn’t looking for guinea pigs,’ she finished lamely.

  She bit her lip. What a terrible liar she was turning out to be! She might just as well given him her name and profession from the start. Along with her agent’s phone number!

  ‘So what were you looking for?’ He sounded amused. But wary too.

  ‘What are you?’ she said disagreeably. ‘The Spanish Inquisition?’

  ‘Just trying to get my facts clear. I mean, I thought you said that you were a great traveller. But your experience seems a bit limited.’

  Jemima stopped dead and rounded on him, hands on hips. She said between her teeth, ‘My ex
perience is not limited at all.’

  He didn’t say anything. Instead he stopped too, and looked her calmly up and down. And then that wicked eyebrow went up again.

  Jemima could have danced with rage. The only thing that stopped her was the thought that that was exactly what he was trying to goad her into.

  She stepped away from him and started to walk again. Or march.

  ‘Well, I’ve certainly never gambled for a living.’ It was poisonously sweet. ‘Come and show me what that bit of adventuring is like.’

  She set a heck of a pace to the casino. But Niall never broke out of a stroll. He just lengthened his stride and kept up with her easily. It was as irritating as everything else about him, Jemima decided.

  She steamed into the plush interior with a face like thunder.

  It was like a futuristic hotel. Bigger than it looked from the outside, it was built in an octagon. Great walls of windows gave onto the sea on six sides. Small cocktail tables were set all round the outer walls, where people could sit and play two-hander games or sip their drinks and watch the stars. But the middle of the room was where it all happened.

  ‘It’s like a skating rink,’ said Jemima, fascinated.

  There were card tables and roulette tables and games of backgammon. There were brilliant banks of lights over the tables. There was muted conversation. But mostly the sound was the click of chips, the whirr of the spinning wheel, the slap of cards coming out of the shoe. And the chink of ice and the click of ultra-high heels on a floor as dark and shining as the sky outside.

  ‘It’s like a party,’ she said, wondering. She gave a crack of sudden laughter. ‘And I’m underdressed. Well, that’s a first. A very classy party.’

  Niall was at her shoulder. He looked down at her at that. ‘Is it? Look again.’

  Waiters wove expertly through the crowd, lifting their trays of drinks high above the heads of the crowd. But, for all the diamonds and four-star tans, there were no party buzz. No laughter. No music. Instead the air was tense with attention.

  ‘I see what you mean,’ she said slowly. ‘Everyone is either playing or watching someone else.’

  ‘Your first time in a casino too, huh?’

  Her first instinct was to deny it. She did not like this man writing her off as inexperienced. Then common sense reasserted itself.

  ‘Yes,’ she said ruefully. ‘Never got closer than a James Bond movie.’

  ‘I thought not.’

  In spite of that common sense she stiffened. ‘Does it show?’ she said with an attempt at lightness.

  ‘Yes.’

  She lifted her chin, all lightness dissolving. ‘Are you calling me naı¨ve?’

  ‘Wouldn’t dare,’ he said promptly.

  She didn’t believe him.

  ‘How naı¨ve do you think I am?’ There was an edge to her voice.

  ‘Haven’t a clue,’ said Niall, with a ghost of smile. ‘I’ll look into it.’

  And what did that mean? The words could have been a veiled threat. But Jemima had been on the receiving end of threats from Basil Blane for months now, and it didn’t feel like a threat. It felt—if that weren’t totally stupid—like a promise. She gave a little shiver of anticipation.

  ‘Only not just now. I’ve got to go to work. So stick with me, look charming, and don’t talk.’

  He bought her the orange juice she asked for. He paid in dollars and the price made her eyes widen. Jemima had drunk orange juice in the most exclusive clubs in London, Paris and New York and this place beat them all.

  ‘Wow. This is not for the guy on a budget, is it?’ She remembered the scruffy beach bum gear in which he’d first met her and conscience smote her. Professional gambler or not, he did not look as if he could afford this. ‘You must let me pay—’

  He shook his head. ‘Business expense. But thank you.’

  He gave her a sudden smile. The sweetness of it made her blink. So did the way her heart seemed to go into over-drive.

  Oh, no. That’s all I need.

  It was that, more than his instructions, that kept her quiet as a mouse as they strolled round the casino floor.

  He watched each table with interest for a while, before taking her on with a word and a smile. After a while Jemima realised that he had a strategy. She was dying to ask him if he had a system. But you didn’t interrupt a man when he was working!

  Eventually he stopped at the blackjack table. He slid his arm casually round her waist and she held her breath. His body was so lithe, so warm under the tuxedo. And the arm was almost possessive. Nobody had stood beside her in public with a possessive arm round her since…

  She thought about it. Well, ever. Basil had not put his arm round her. And with Basil hovering jealously no one else had either. And since Basil she had not let anyone get close enough.

  A new experience, then. Jemima shivered voluptuously and lost track of time.

  So she did not know how long he watched the game. She almost jumped when one of the gamblers got up from the table and Niall removed his arm.

  ‘I’ll sit in for a while.’

  The dealer, sober in a tuxedo nearly as elegant as Niall’s own, nodded.

  Niall slid into the vacated seat and the dealer started to deal again.

  Jemima found there was a lump in her throat. Help, what was wrong with her? A man she did not know took his arm away from her waist and she felt bereft? Get a life, Jemima.

  Without taking his eye off the green baize and the other players, Niall reached up and took her hand. He put it on his shoulder. ‘Bring me luck, sweetness.’

  It was like an unexpected present. A perfect moment. A thrill and a coming home.

  It was like being loved.

  Jemima stood like a statue. Her thoughts whirled.

  Like being loved? How pathetic is that?

  But it felt so right. And that was a new experience too.

  It was some minutes before she brought her attention back to what was happening on the tables. Niall appeared to be losing. But he did not seem to mind. His voice stayed amused, his smile rueful, his stance casual. Only, under her fingers, his shoulder was taut as a tiger about to spring.

  And then it seemed his luck changed. A little. Then more. Then he put down a big sum on the last turn of the cards and it came up. The players and the dealer stayed impassive, but there was an almost visible frisson among the watchers.

  He put up his hand to cover hers.

  ‘Bored, darling? Just one more. Then we’ll go and look at the stars.’

  It sounded perfect, the indulgent lover placating a bored beauty. But for all the caressing note in his voice he did not look at her, not for a moment. He did not take his eyes off the dealer.

  He won again. Their table was beginning to attract a crowd. He pushed back his chair.

  ‘I’m out.’ He stood up and nodded to the dealer and his fellow players. ‘Good game. Thank you. Now, darling, let’s go find some moonlight.’

  He turned to Jemima and that warm, wonderful arm came round her again. But this time her heart did not miss a beat.

  I’m just window dressing. An alibi for a professional gambler. How clever he is.

  It was chilling.

  He walked close. Jemima thought she felt his cheek brush against her hair. She swallowed and stared straight ahead, dry-eyed.

  Then she heard in her ear, ‘Keep walking and look devoted. Manager at ten o’clock.’

  At that she did look up at him. He did a very good devoted lover, she found. Her heart felt squeezed like a lemon.

  A tall, authoritative man appeared at Niall’s elbow. ‘Mr Blackthorne? Leaving early this evening?’

  Niall said easily, ‘Ah, but tonight I have company, Henry.’

  The manager paced beside them. ‘We’ll see you again, I hope?’

  Niall nodded. ‘You can count on it.’

  He cashed their chips. Jemima was startled to see the amount of money on the draft.

  ‘Wow,’ she said, momentarily
diverted from her strangely hurting heart.

  ‘Quit while you’re ahead,’ he said lightly. He grinned at the manager. ‘Don’t worry, Henry. I’ll be back tomorrow.’

  The manager smiled. ‘You know you’re always welcome.’ He held the door open for them. ‘See you soon, I hope. Goodnight, Mr Blackthorne. Goodnight, madame.’

  Jemima’s eyebrows flew up.

  ‘Cor,’ she said, as they started back under the Chinese lanterns. ‘Haven’t been called madame before.’

  ‘You’ve led a sheltered life.’

  She shook her head vigorously. ‘Don’t think it’s that at all. I think it’s because I’ve never walked out with a guy shipping a quarter of a million dollars in his inside pocket.’

  ‘Henry won’t be worried about that.’ Niall’s voice was cynical. ‘He was a lot more worried last week.’

  Jemima was intrigued. It was a relief. Better than thinking about that unexpected little pain around her heart, anyway.

  ‘What happened last week?’

  ‘I hit a losing streak.’

  She was puzzled. ‘But isn’t that good for the casino?’

  ‘Not if they think you can’t honour your debts.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘You don’t ask professional gamblers if they’re on a losing streak,’ Niall said in an academic tone. ‘But Henry got very confiding, for a couple of nights. There must have been rumours in Queen’s Town.’

  ‘Maybe it’s because you looked as if you were odd-jobbing for the hotel,’ suggested Jemima tartly. ‘Kind of the jet-set equivalent of doing the washing up when you can’t pay the restaurant bill.’

  Niall gave another one of his great shouts of laughter. ‘I didn’t think of that.’

  She slid a look at him from under her lashes. He looked ultra-relaxed: smooth, sophisticated, in control. It was impossible to imagine him being worried about anything.

  ‘Were you worried at all?’ she ventured.

  ‘Counting up my losses, you mean?’ He sounded astonished. ‘No. Losing is against my principles.’

  ‘You and the casino, both,’ said Jemima dryly.

  ‘That’s why Henry and I understand each other. We both take the long view.’

  Enlightenment dawned. ‘So that’s why you’re going back tomorrow. So they get some of it back!’