How the Lady Was Won (Survivors)

by Galen, Shana

  Daphne tugged at another finger of her glove then another until the top slid down, revealing the pale skin just above her elbow. She pulled gently on the white silk until a fraction more of her soft flesh was revealed. He meant to look away, but he couldn’t seem to stop watching as inch after inch of her arm was revealed to him.

  Colin shifted in his seat, trying to find a comfortable way to sit. He felt like a boy again. He was hot and flushed from the mere glimpse of cleavage. Daphne pulled the rest of the glove off, revealing long, thin fingers. “That’s better,” she said. She looked at him, her blue eyes glowing with mischief behind the mask she still wore. Oh, she knew exactly what she was about. “Will you hold this for me?” She tossed it to him, and he caught the glove mid-air.

  “No more,” he said, his voice hoarse.

  “Why not?” She tugged at the other glove, and it slid down quite easily. He watched its progress over the inner skin of her elbow, and he wondered how she tasted there, if she was sensitive in that spot, what she would do if he teased her with his tongue right where the glove had been.

  The glove lowered further, dragging his gaze down with it.

  “Feeling anything new?” she asked, her voice low and seductive.

  He didn’t answer.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to come sit beside you? You look a little frustrated.”

  That was an understatement, but thankfully the hackney slowed and the jarvey called out their destination. Colin jumped to his feet, opened the door, and gulped in the night air. The hackney hadn’t felt warm when he’d first climbed inside.

  He held out his hand to assist the now cloakless and gloveless Lady Daphne. Colin tried not to notice her bare shoulders and arms, encased only in a thin, gauzy material that was certainly more for show than function. He tossed the jarvey a handful of coins and started up the walkway just as Mayne’s butler opened the door.

  “Good evening, Mr. FitzRoy. Lady Daphne.” Banks greeted them as though he had been expecting them. “Would you like to join the others in the drawing room?”

  Colin halted. “Others? Is Mayne back?”

  “No, sir. But Mr. Fortescue and Mr. Murray have stopped in.”

  “Not the Scot,” Daphne murmured, but it was too late. Duncan was already on the stairs.

  “Just the lass I wanted to see,” he said, coming down a few steps. He took in her mask and paused. “I dinnae ken there was a masque tonight. Let me find something to wear, and I’ll join you.”

  “We didn’t come looking for you,” Colin said.

  Duncan folded his arms over his chest. “I must say, yer lass is doing a puir job of finding me a bride.”

  “Is this your wife, FitzRoy?”

  Colin blew out a breath. Now they had Stratford and Duncan to contend with. “Lady Daphne, may I present—”

  “Mr. Fortescue,” she said. “We know each other, of course. How is your cousin?”

  “Unfortunately, she has a sniffle tonight,” he said, not looking the least bit troubled by that fact. “Else I would be squiring her about.”

  Daphne gestured to Duncan. “Why not introduce her to Mr. Murray? He is looking for a bride.”

  Duncan held up a hand. “I’m beginning to think matchmaking is nae your forte, lass. My mother won’t have a woman like Fortescue’s cousin.” He lowered his voice. “She’s far too mannish.”

  “I say, Murray.” Stratford turned on him. “She’s as much a lady as any other. She just has ideas.”

  “Why would I want a bride with ideas?”

  “Yes, by all means, marry a witless girl,” Daphne said, her voice full of exasperation. “I do not know why I am even here. I have somewhere more important to be.”

  “Oh no, you don’t.” Colin grasped her arm. Her bare arm. God, had he ever felt skin so soft? “Lady Daphne and I have a matter to discuss,” he told his friends.

  “What aboot the masque?” Duncan asked.

  Stratford put his arm about Duncan’s shoulders. “Not tonight, friend.” He called down to Colin. “We’ll be in the drawing room for at least another hour or so.” He winked.

  Daphne blew out a breath. “Really. Don’t you men have a club or something?”

  “We do, actually. Banks, I believe we will use the parlor again.”

  “Yes, sir. Would you like wine?”

  “No.” Colin ushered Daphne into the parlor, closing the door behind him. The fire had already been lit, as though he had been anticipated. Daphne went immediately to one of the green chairs and sat.

  “Will this take long?” she asked. “I have a gaming hell to visit.”

  Colin went to the hearth and leaned against the mantel. “I told you I’d take you.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Surely there is some condition.”

  “Take off your mask,” he said.

  She frowned, clearly surprised at his words. But he couldn’t see her face as well with it in place, and he wanted to be able to read her expression.

  “Why?”

  “Nevermind. I will do it for you.” He moved behind her low-backed chair and loosed the silk ribbons. She caught the mask and set it on the table beside her.

  “That actually feels much better,” she said. “I hadn’t realized it was sticking to my skin. And my head really is beginning to ache.” She reached up and pressed a hand into her tight coiffure.

  “Take it down then,” he said, his voice far lower than he would have liked. Her hand stilled, and he saw her slight shiver. “Allow me.” He took hold of a pin that was already out of place and plucked it out. One lone curl descended, and he moved closer, bending to kiss the spot it grazed. Daphne inhaled sharply as his lips brushed against the back of her neck.

  Slowly, he rose and studied her silvery hair again. He plucked out another pin and then another and more hair tumbled down to the middle of her back. He unwrapped a coil of it and she let out a soft moan and rolled her neck. Seeing no more pins, Colin brushed her hair back off her face and threaded his hands through the thick mass. He found her scalp and gently massaged.

  Daphne made a sound of unmistakable pleasure. She let her neck fall back, and he pressed against her temples. Her eyes closed, and he tried very hard not to look down the front of her gown. He moved his hands, massaging the base of her neck, and her head fell forward.

  “Where did you learn to do this?” she asked, her voice thick with pleasure.

  He didn’t think mentioning a brothel in Spain was wise. “Here and there,” he said, then moved her hair to the side and stared at the delicate flesh of the back of her neck. He bent and placed a kiss there, and her hand came up cupping him around the base of his neck. She turned her face and kissed him full on the lips. Colin’s hands landed on her shoulders as her mouth moved against his. He slid his palms down to the silk of her gown, feeling the ridges of the fabric-covered buttons securing the gown. His fingers felt big and clumsy on the small round buttons, but he managed to loosen one and then another.

  Daphne stopped kissing him and pulled back, her vivid blue eyes meeting his. He didn’t mistake the desire in her eyes. He knew she saw it in his own, and he knew that this was a sure way to entangle himself further with him.

  But there was no altering course now. It would happen tonight or another night, and he would have to find a way to deal with the emotions that came with their lovemaking. They were married, and he couldn’t escape her forever.

  Nor did he want to.

  He undid another button and the fabric of her bodice slid down, revealing the pale pink of her stays. His gaze slid there and to the flesh that had been lifted by the undergarment. The bow beneath her breasts was still in place, which meant he had only a glimpse of the top of her breasts. But it was enough. He moved around the chair and knelt before her. She stared at him, watching to see what he would do next, her breath coming quickly. He reached out, fingered the bow, ran the soft material through his hands, then yanked. It came loose, and the bodice dipped lower, revealing the lacy stays with a pi
nk bow right between her breasts. He couldn’t remove the stays. Not without taking the rest of the garment off and then unhooking the undergarment. It was all a froth of silks and muslin to him, and he’d probably never get her back into it if he managed to get her out. But he told himself this was enough. He only wanted to look at her, and perhaps taste.

  He put his hands on her knees and opened her legs. She resisted for just a moment then allowed it. Her skirts gave way as he slid between her legs and took her face in his hands.

  Her breath was audible now, hitching in her throat. “Kiss me,” she ordered him.

  He did. He kissed her long and hard and until she was whimpering for more. When he drew back so they could both catch their breath, she closed her legs about his waist, keeping him in place. He gave her a long look then drew a line from her swollen lips to her chin, down over her throat. She shivered and arched back, and he couldn’t resist. He pressed his mouth to the half-moons of her breasts, inhaling her sweet, tart scent and feeling the silky skin against his lips.

  Her hands threaded through his hair as he kissed her warm flesh. He tugged at her stays, managing to free first one rosy nipple then another. Colin drew in a breath, certain he would never be able to look at her dresses in the same way. Her aureoles were pale pink while her nipples were a dusty rose. He ran his tongue over one and watched as her skin pebbled. Her hands in his hair tightened and he took the hard bud in his mouth, sucking lightly.

  Daphne moaned and arched, giving him more access. He teased and licked before moving to the other nipple. While his mouth worked, his hands dove between them, inching up her skirts. When he reached the tie of her garters, above her knee, she jerked at the feel of his bare hands on her leg. She pushed back, giving him a lovely view of her upthrust breasts. Her gaze drifted down to where his hand made a small hill under the fabric of her gown.

  “Unlock your knees,” he murmured, stroking the knee she had clamped at his waist. “I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

  He thought she might argue or protest, but she released him, her eyes glittering with interest. His hand slid higher, over skin so soft and smooth he would have sworn it was the most expensive silk. Her eyes fluttered closed, and he watched her face, enjoying the way her lips parted when his fingers brushed over the damp curls at the juncture of her thighs.

  “I’ve never done this before,” he said, leaning forward and kissing one breast. His heart pounded with desire and alarm at what he’d just admitted. If he opened himself a little, would she wedge her fingers in and pry him open all the way? He wanted her enough to risk it. “I’ve been told there’s a small nub that will bring you pleasure. But I’m not certain I can find it.” His tongue slaked over the hard point of her nipple. “Will you help me?” Those last words were the hardest. His throat had closed, and he’d had to force them out.

  “Yes,” she breathed on a moan, not seeming to notice the difficulty he had even with this small admission.

  His hand slid higher, cupping her. She was hot and pushed against his hand, her slick flesh sliding easily against his fingers. “Is this it?” he asked, parting her outer folds.

  “No,” she whispered.

  He stroked her, finding her opening and pausing. “Here?”

  “Colin,” she breathed, her sex tensing against his hand. He slid higher, and he didn’t need to ask if he’d found the spot. She jumped, and her eyes flew open to meet his.

  “Here?” he asked, sliding one wet finger over the small bud.

  “Please,” she moaned, moving against his hand. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright, and her chest heaving. He had never seen a more perfect image in his life, and he would never forget how ravishing she looked in that moment. He’d taken a risk, and the benefit had been priceless. His thumb circled her, and she threw her head back. “Yes. Oh, don’t stop.”

  He should tell her to lower her voice, but truthfully, he wanted more. She sounded so husky and raw. He watched her reaction, learning what she liked and responded to. When she cried out and grasped the arms of the chair, he knew he’d brought her pleasure.

  The only question was what would happen when it faded.

  Eight

  Daphne felt too good to be embarrassed. She knew she’d behaved in an unladylike fashion, but she really didn’t care. She opened her eyes to find Colin’s beautiful green ones watching her. He had a smug smile on his lips, and for once she didn’t feel like wiping it away. She’d give him that smile. He’d earned it.

  She leaned forward, watched as his gaze dipped to her bared breasts, then up to her lips. She kissed him, pulling him close. She couldn’t seem to get enough of his hands and his mouth. She wanted more.

  And then something else occurred to her. She pushed him back and quickly yanked up her stays. His brows rose, but he didn’t look surprised. He looked as though he expected this. “I see what you’re doing now,” she said. She pushed him back, closed her legs, then rose. The back of her gown was still unfastened and her bodice gaped, but she pushed down her skirts and held her bodice up with one hand.

  “What am I doing?” he asked, resting one arm on his bent knee. He hadn’t even bothered to rise from the floor.

  “You’re trying to distract me. You don’t want me to go to St. James’s Street.”

  His face darkened. “Of course I don’t want you to go to St. James’s, but if you think this”—he gestured to the chair—“was about me trying to trick you, you are wrong.”

  “What else could it be?” she demanded. “Don’t tell me you couldn’t resist me. You’ve resisted me for seven years.” She had thought he’d been swept away by passion, as she had been, but she was a fool. He didn’t suddenly care for her. He’d more than proven he cared nothing at all for her.

  Colin rose slowly and deliberately. “I told you I would take you to St. James’s if you wanted to go.”

  “Fine.” She gave him her back. “Do me up. I want to go.”

  For a long moment she thought he would argue or walk away, but then she felt the heat of him behind her. His hands ran down her back, and he closed the first button. “If we’re to go to a gaming hell, we need a plan. Fortunately, we have one of the best strategists in the country upstairs.”

  She whipped her head around to look at Colin. “Murray?”

  “No. Mr. Fortescue.”

  Daphne shook her head and faced away again. “No. I don’t want him to know. I don’t need his help.”

  He sighed quietly then said in a resolute tone, “What is your plan?”

  “I’ll wear the mask and find a game I like. If possible, I’ll find a game where the other players are deep in their cups. I can smile and flirt and leave before I win too much. Then I’ll move to the next club.”

  His hands paused at her buttons. “That’s not half bad.”

  “Thank you.” She straightened her shoulders.

  “But it won’t work.”

  She swung around to face him. “Why not?”

  “Because this isn’t a card party or a ball. The games are run by the management. You go to a table with a dealer. He won’t be drunk, and if you start to win, the management will replace him with someone who will make sure you start to lose. I told you. These places wouldn’t stay open if they lost money.”

  “I have brothers, Colin FitzRoy, and I hear them talking about winning fifty or seventy pounds all the time.”

  “And how much do you need?” he asked.

  She opened her mouth to tell him then closed it again.

  He let out a breath and closed his eyes. “That much?”

  “I don’t know why I told you anything.” She pushed past him. “I knew you wouldn’t help.”

  “I can’t help if you won’t tell me anything. How much do you owe? It has to be an exorbitant amount or you would have asked me for the money.”

  She couldn’t argue. He was no duke, but he was far from poor. He was the son of a viscount, one of the older titles in the realm. By all accounts, he had a sizeable yea
rly income.

  “It’s more than I have,” she admitted grudgingly.

  “Why not tell the lady who holds your vowels you’ll pay in installments? Surely your father gives you generous pin money.”

  “It’s no lady, and if I don’t pay soon, he’ll—” She broke off. She didn’t want to admit what a fool she’d been. She’d been playing so well. She had not believed she could lose, but she’d been an idiot. She was the one being played all along.

  Colin grabbed her arm before she could escape. “He’ll what?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Who is it?”

  “No one you know. Now, will you take me to St. James’s Street or not?”

  “No.”

  “Then I’ll go by myself.” She pulled loose, gathered her cloak, and started for the door. But when she opened it, she found Stratford Fortescue and Duncan Murray blocking her path.

  Mr. Fortescue’s eyes widened slightly, and she realized her hair was still loose and her bodice not quite repaired. Murray seemed not to notice. “I told you the lass would change her mind,” he said. “Tell us where the masque is and we’ll escort you.”

  Colin stepped out from behind her. “We’re not attending a masque,” he said to his friends. To her he said, “And we’re not visiting St. James’s Street. You don’t need to win at the tables to fix this. I have another plan”

  She stared at him, waiting for him to go on.

  But he glanced at his friends. “I’ll explain more later. Right now, I’m taking you home. We have a busy day tomorrow. Your mother is taking us to see our new home.”

  “You have a town house?” Fortescue asked. “Where?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “My mother won’t be up before noon,” Daphne said. “It’s not even two in the morning. Tell me your plan now.”

  He shook his head. “It needs a bit of polishing. I promise to tell you tomorrow.”