Her Wanton Wager

by Grace Callaway

  "Why?" Her lips drew into a pout.

  His jaw tightened. "Because I said so. Now be off."

  "Is it someone else? You've found some tart, is that it? You think any light-skirt can give you the kind o' sport you need?"

  "You'd better watch yourself," he warned her. "What I do is none of your business."

  Abruptly, she switched tactics. "Come on, Hunt. Give us another try. No doxy can fuck you the way I do."

  His patience came to an end. He opened his mouth to order her out ... but a flash of genuine emotion lit her eyes. Anxiety, the kind that even her practiced sultriness could not mask.

  "What's this really about, Evangeline?" he said.

  It wasn't jealousy—he knew that much. In the months they'd been bed partners, she hadn't given a damn whom he fucked and vice versa. No ties came with fornication. His unemotional dealings with Evangeline and others before her had never bothered him; yet now, with Percy in his life, he experienced a stab of regret. For the tawdriness that had gone on before her.

  God help him, he wished he'd been a better man.

  Evangeline's darkened lashes lowered. When she raised them, her eyes were as hard and cold as jade. "I need blunt, lover, an' I'll do whate'er it takes to get it." Reaching to the bar, she picked up her bag and untied the strings. "Anything you want, Hunt. For old time's sake."

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Holding up the veil that covered her bonnet, Percy made a polite curtsy and said, "'Tis a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Stewart."

  "Back again, are you?" Hunt's partner, a giant of a man, looked her up and down and grunted. She'd met him in passing at her previous visits to the club, and he hadn't been any friendlier then. "What are you wantin' this time?"

  So much for niceties. "I'd like to see Mr. Hunt, if I may," she said. "I shan't bother him long. My chaperone thinks I'm on an errand at the apothecary's."

  "As a matter o' fact, now is a good time to see Hunt," the man said suddenly. "I'll show you the way myself."

  She smiled at him. Perhaps she'd misread his reaction to her—Gavin had said that his mentor tended toward surliness. "I'd appreciate that ever so much, sir."

  He led her through the club. When they reached a closed door at the end of the hall, something close to a smile curved his lips. "Seein' as you're old friends, there's no need to knock. Go ahead an' show yourself in."

  "Thank you, Mr. Stewart—" she began.

  But his long strides had taken him halfway down the hall. What an odd man. Pursing her lips, she reached for the brass knob and pushed the door open.

  She saw Gavin standing by the bar. He was casually dressed in shirtsleeves, without a cravat ... and he was not alone. A woman in a scandalous red gown sat on a stool next to him. The two were so absorbed in conversation that they did not notice her standing there. As Percy watched, blood rushing in her ears, the doxy upended a bag, raining an assortment of objects onto the polished wood. Chains, rope ... a pair of cuffs?

  "I've brought your favorite toys, lover," the woman said, running her bare fingertips over his chest. "What say we 'ave ourselves a l'il game?"

  Gavin took the hand—and removed it. A look of distaste crossed his features. "If it's money you need, say so," he said curtly.

  The woman—Evangeline—tossed her brassy curls. "I won't be indebted to you or any man. 'Tis an exchange I'm after ... and you want what I 'ave to offer." Leaning forward, she reached between his thighs.

  "Get your hands off of him."

  The words exploded from Percy. Both Gavin and the other woman jerked in surprise as she marched toward them. Unfamiliar fury boiled in her veins, and she could scarcely think.

  "Who the bloody 'ell are you?" the woman said with narrowed eyes.

  "I. Am. With. Him." Percy stabbed a gloved finger in Gavin's direction. He was staring at her, wariness edging his blunt features.

  "You and 'im?" Snorting, the tart had the temerity to eye her up and down. "Hunt needs more than a milk-faced miss to satisfy 'is particular appetites."

  "That's enough," Gavin said in a taut voice. "Get out, Evangeline."

  Percy glowered at him. "What appetites?"

  With a superior smile, the trollop waved toward the counter. "See for yourself." She slid from her stool, sauntering toward the door. "Oh, and a word o' advice, luvie,"—she flung the words over her shoulder—"give 'im a struggle before 'e ties you up. The gent likes 'is wenches with a bit o' sauce."

  The door slammed behind Evangeline, and Percy rounded on Gavin. Her breath rushed in and out of her lungs, unaccustomed rage pounding in her heart. All her life, she'd been known for her sunny nature; at the moment, she felt like thunderclouds ripe for a storm.

  Hunt eyed her, rubbing the back of his neck. "That wasn't what it looked like."

  Of all the asinine things to say. "So that wasn't a strumpet hanging all over you?" she said through clenched teeth. Who is she? You're supposed to be mine.

  He took a step toward her, but she moved out of his reach. "She is no one to concern yourself over," he said in stark tones. "Percy, come here."

  "I will not. Not until you tell me what is going on." Her throat tight, she said, "Don't lie to me—are you … involved with her?"

  He cursed. In the next moment, he moved quick as lightning and snatched her up. A squeak left her as he hauled her onto the bar, his hands planting on either side of her hips. Face-to-face, his gaze bored into hers.

  "Evangeline and I had an arrangement at one time. But that is over," he said. "It has been over ever since I met you."

  Some of the tightness in her chest eased. Whatever Gavin was, he was no liar; she could see the truth in the molten ore of his eyes. "You haven't ... been with her since we met?"

  He shook his head.

  Another thought assailed her. "Or anyone else?"

  "No. Nor have I thought to." He looked at her steadily. "'Tis you I want, Percy."

  Even as relief seeped through her, her gaze wandered to the assortment of objects next to her on the counter. Her belly fluttered at the coil of silken, tasseled rope. Swallowing, she waved her hand at the paraphernalia. "And what about this?"

  His scar whitened. She saw the flexing of his strong, bare throat and had a revelation. Gavin Hunt was nervous. Hah. He ought to be. And she supposed she ought to be shocked by Hunt's proclivities; instead, she felt ... intrigued. But mostly hurt by the fact that he would share his desires with a light-skirt, but not with her.

  Does he think I'm too missish to handle his needs? Is that why he hasn't spoken of marriage? I'm ... I'm not enough for him?

  All of a sudden, she saw herself waiting by the window. Small and insignificant. Not important enough for anyone to return home for.

  Though her heart squeezed, she lifted her chin. "I deserve to know," she said.

  He straightened, ran a hand over his mouth. "This isn't the sort of thing one talks about with a well-bred miss," he said, dumping salt onto her wounds. "I don't want to shock you, Percy."

  "Tell me the truth," she snapped. "Tell me, or I will go. And I won't bloody come back."

  Perhaps an ultimatum wasn't the wisest approach. But she was too hurt and angry to care.

  His hands dropped to his lean hips. "Have it your way, then." A challenging flare lit his gaze. "What do you know about the prison hulks?"

  The non sequitur took her aback. A chill of premonition passed over her. "They're old battle ships. They're used to house prisoners when the jails are overcrowded," she said slowly. "The conditions aboard are said to be deplorable."

  "There was one moored not far from here, up on the Thames Estuary." Heartbeats passed. "I spent ten years of my life in that stinking hellhole."

  Gavin had been a convict? Shock percolated through her. "For ... for what crime?"

  "A house burned down, and I was blamed for it," he said in terse tones. "I was innocent, but it didn't matter."

  Her chest clenched. "How old were you? What about your family?"

  "I was ten." His jaw
ticked. "My mother had abandoned me months earlier. She got tired of supporting a bastard. I never knew my father."

  Just a boy, with no one to protect him. Eyes welling, she said, "Gavin, I—"

  "You asked me once how I got this." He touched his scar, his lips twisting. "'Twas Stewart who gave it to me my first day in that hell. Do you know why?"

  She shook her head, a wooden movement.

  "Because being pretty gets you buggered. Because if you don't beat the hell out of them first, they'll do worse to you." Gavin's hands fisted at his sides, his eyes burning pitch. "I became a man in that place, and I survived by learning that power is everything."

  "You did what you had to," she whispered.

  "I lived like a beast," he said darkly. "When another convict tried to steal my food, I cut out his tongue. When a guard flogged me, I took the pain, knowing the scars would toughen my skin. When a whore ridiculed me,"—his knuckles whitened—"I showed her I was a man."

  Though she trembled at the savage confession, Percy saw the hidden torment of the man in front of her. For the first time, she began to understand Gavin's complexity. Pieces fell into place ... his ferocity and primal need for parity. His compassion for children who'd had to endure too much. And her heart wept a little.

  "I'm so sorry," she said, "so sorry you had to go through—"

  "I do not want your pity."

  The checked rage in his words broke through her numbness. Instinctively, she knew that this was the first time he'd told his story. He was looking at her with a savage expression: as if he expected her to bolt or scream in fear. Oh, her Hades, her scarred hero—did he not know her better by now?

  "It's not pity. Gavin, I—"

  "I am telling you this because you wanted to know about my appetites. For me, control is everything,"—his gaze shot to the rope—"and sex is no different."

  She blinked. Um, that's your revelation? She might be a virgin, but she wasn't a fool. In the times they'd been together, Gavin had always been masterful. Dominant ... and deliciously so. Her insides grew hot at the notion of what he might do with the objects beside her. She'd always known he wanted her surrender, but she hadn't yielded, not completely, because of the wager. And because she hadn't understood his need the way she did now.

  Clarity struck her. He might call it control, but what he truly needed was ... love. Someone to trust. She'd sensed his loneliness from the start, and it had drawn her, his intense need for what she could offer. Because she did have something to offer: her heart. In that instant, she knew beyond a doubt that she was fully and completely in love with Gavin Hunt.

  "Shocked you into silence, have I? There's a first," he said in stark tones.

  With a tremulous smile, she said, "Thank you for sharing this with me. For trusting me."

  He stared at her. "You're … thanking me."

  Hopping down from the bar, she crossed to him. Placed her palm against his hard jaw. "I have feelings for you, Gavin. I know how foolish it sounds coming on the heels of my infatuation with Portland; if I were you, I wouldn't believe me either. But there it is."

  His hands closed roughly on her shoulders. "You have feelings ... for me?"

  Knowing his mistrust of love (and the fiasco with Portland did not help her case), she told herself to ease him into the idea with patience and tact. To try to explain herself in a way Gavin could understand. And believe.

  "When I am with you, I feel truly myself—truly free as I have never been before. You don't judge me or try to make me into someone I am not. And," she said, flushing yet determined to be as honest as possible, "I desire you. Being in your arms is the best place I've ever been."

  "Percy." He sounded stunned.

  "Wait, I'm not finished." She put a hand against his chest, his power thrumming beneath her palm. "It pains me beyond bearing to think of the hurt you must have endured. Yet your past has made you the strong, fearless fighter that you are. A man I admire and accept,"—she tipped her head toward the items on the bar—"in all ways."

  Flames of need rose in his dark eyes. How badly he wanted to believe her.

  "How can you say that when I control your family's future?" he bit out.

  She'd asked herself the same question so many times; now, her heart gave the answer. "With Paul—it's about justice, isn't it? You want what's owed to you, and I cannot fault you for that. 'Tis the way of your world."

  Expression shuttered, Gavin gave a slow nod. "Aye, justice."

  "You've never lied to me, and I won't lie to you: I won't betray my family. If you will not release my brother, then you leave me no choice but to win the wager." Trying to keep her voice from trembling, she said, "And in that case ... would you still want me?"

  Her breath held.

  "I will always want you."

  His arms surrounded her, crushing her to his chest. Her eyelids closed as he took her lips in a hot, demanding kiss. She clung to him, opening herself completely to his passion. His hands gripped her bottom, pulling her tight against him. She sighed at the contact with his muscular form, his erect member so strong and fierce between her thighs.

  "I've missed you." The admission sounded ragged, torn from a place deep inside him. "I've never wanted anyone like I want you, Percy."

  "I'm glad," she said, linking her arms around his neck. "Because if you did, I'd have to scratch her eyes out. And that doesn't sound very pleasant."

  At that, his brows raised. "Possessive, are you?"

  "Mine goes both ways," she informed him.

  He kissed her again, this time with a tenderness that made her heart sing. "You have nothing to worry about," he murmured.

  Actually ... she did. Recalling the purpose of her visit, she felt her belly flutter. Gavin had entrusted her with so much today; could she show the same faith in him?

  "There's something I need to tell you. It's about my brother." She faltered and forced herself to say, "He's ... he's in trouble again."

  Gavin released her. "What sort of trouble?"

  "Cards. This time he lost money to a man named O'Brien—do you know him?"

  "Aye."

  Biting her lip, she said, "I gave Paul all I had, and it still wasn't enough to cover the debt. And I'm afraid he'll only lose more. I don't know what else to do, Gavin. So I thought I'd ask for your advice." She gave him a hopeful look. "Surely you've encountered men with the same affliction?"

  Expression neutral, he said, "You trust me when it comes to your brother's welfare?"

  "You gave your word that you wouldn't harm him," she said.

  His knuckles grazed her cheek. "And my word is enough?"

  She nodded. Please prove me right.

  He sighed. "I have seen this many times, Percy. Once a man starts down the path to ruin, no one can turn him back but himself. And that usually doesn't happen until the ground falls from beneath his feet."

  "That can't be." Her insides turned to ice. "I won't let that happen to Paul."

  "It's not your choice, buttercup." Gavin rubbed his neck. "If it puts you at ease, however, I will pay off your brother's debts and request that O'Brien bar him from the premises."

  "You'd do that for me?" she breathed.

  He does love me as much as I love him …

  "For you—and also to protect my own investment. Fines won't be of much use to me if O'Brien gets to him first," he said in wry tones.

  Um ... or maybe not.

  Sighing, she told herself the reason did not matter; for now, the fact that Gavin would intervene on Paul's behalf filled her with gratitude and relief. Until another thought occurred to her. "But what about the threats on your life? You said other proprietors might be involved. Is it safe for you to go to O'Brien?"

  "I'll be fine. As I said, I can take care of myself." When she made to argue, he placed a finger against her lips. "I was planning on paying O'Brien a visit anyway."

  Was he just saying that to make her feel better? "For what purpose?" she said.

  He hesitated. "Robbie Lyon
was murdered last week."

  "Murdered?" she gasped. "By whom?"

  "That is what I aim to find out," Gavin said.

  Her stomach roiled with apprehension. "Do you think Mr. Lyon's death is related to the threats on your life?"

  "He is the second club owner to perish in six months. More than mere coincidence."

  "Then you must have a care! You cannot go traipsing about as if you're invincible." When he raised a brow that clearly said I'm not?, she said in exasperation, "Can't the magistrates look into the matter?"

  "Charleys don't know their arses from their elbows," he said derisively.

  "A private investigator, then. Bow Street Runners or ..."—she hit upon an inspiration—"I know a member of the Thames River Police. A Mr. Kent. He is a friend of Nick's and ever so clever. I could contact him—"

  "Over my dead body." The sharpness of Gavin's tone took her aback. "No policeman is getting involved in this. Nor are you to interfere with my affairs, Percy."

  "How can you expect me not to concern myself over this? I love you, you stubborn lout!"

  He grew still. His eyes hooded.

  So much for patience and tact. "I know your opinion on love," she said, straightening her shoulders, "and that you take no stock in it. But it means something to me, and I cannot allow you to take unnecessary risks. Even for my brother."

  "You're worried for me—over your brother?"

  She frowned; it wasn't an either-or situation. "I'm worried about you both. But there's no danger to Paul's life at the moment. Whereas with you there's more afoot than you've led on."

  "I've told you more than I've shared with anyone." His voice grew hoarse, and he seemed to struggle to get the words out. "You are … important to me, Percy."

  'Twas the closest he'd come to declaring his feelings for her. Hope blossomed within her. He was capable of love; surely with time he would come to return her feelings.

  "As you are to me," she said. Then, looking to the clock, she sighed with frustration. "Dash it all, I have to go, but can we talk more about this tomorrow night?"

  He hesitated. "For your safety, perhaps it would be better to postpone—"

  "Oh no. You're not getting rid of me that easily. I took great pains to convince Lisbett to let me stay over at my friend Charity's tomorrow night." Rising on tiptoe, she pressed her lips to his scarred cheek, and the large, ferocious lord of The Underworld actually trembled at her touch.