The Gamble

by Laura Parker

  Jack chuckled. “Loyalty is no match for love. It is a new lesson for me.”

  Randolph dug into the pockets of his formal coat and pulled out another sheaf of papers. “This is yours as well.”

  Jack did not reach for these. “What is it?”

  “Christ!” Randolph slapped the furled pages against Jack’s chest. “ ’Tis the deed to Rockingham.”

  Jack backed up a step. “You won it fairly.”

  “Actually, no.” Randolph reached up and pulled open the neck of Jack’s coat and tucked the papers into the opening. “I could no more afford the wager than you. I had hoped to ruin you when I thought you had won something infinitely more precious from me.”

  For a long silent moment their gazes met and held, two very strong and determined men, and each was glad that the other was a man he would never have to meet on a field of honor.

  “So then, we are even.” Randolph returned to her side and hugged his wife close. “Lotte thinks I am a hero for saving you.” He smiled down at her, feeling the luckiest man alive. “She now intends to build monuments to my consequence.”

  Jack smiled at them. “You are the better man, for her.”

  “Indeed. Consider Rockingham our wedding present.”

  “Mind your own damned business!”

  “You will find Miss Lyndsey at—”

  “I know where,” Jack said grimly and looked at Lotte who nodded in confirmation.

  “How do you know?” Randolph asked testily, for it seemed he was missing a great deal of information.

  Jack smiled. “Your lady wife. She has a most remarkable talent for intrigue.”

  Lotte blushed. “I simply had my maid slip over to Merripace’s side during the trial to ask where the ceremony would take place so that I might attend.”

  “You are a wonder,” Randolph said in affection.

  Lotte blushed. “Our carriage waits below, Jack. The driver has orders to take you anywhere you wish. If you hurry you may just prevent a tragedy.”

  Jack stopped short at the door. “I do not suppose either of you have a pistol on you?”

  Sabrina had never been colder. As she stood in the rear of a small side chapel of a church whose name she did not even know, the chill had started deep within her, against her spine, and radiated outward until she could no longer feel her hands and feet.

  The ceremony was to be a private one, the chapel rented for a half hour. Only two candles burned, one on either side of the altar. There would be no cakes and ale, no toast to the new bride, or even a simple wedding supper. She was marrying in haste in a dark and cheerless place, and it seemed only fitting.

  “Come, Sabrina,” Robert McDonnell called impatiently from the front of the chapel. “Take your place at your husband’s side.”

  Sabrina paused and compressed her lips hard. She must not think about anything, nothing at all. She must not look at Merripace or Cousin Robert, or she would begin to think and feel a dozen angry things. She could go through with this. She must not think of herself now. Kit was safe. Jack was saved. She had done all she could for those she cared most about in this world.

  She forced herself to move forward awkwardly on feet that felt like blocks of wood. Mrs. Varney and her guardian’s driver stood to one side as witnesses. It would be over so quickly she would scarcely realize it. A few words, ordinary words, and it would be over.

  When she reached Merripace’s side the minister opened his book.

  “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here together in the sight of heaven …”

  His voice droned on but Sabrina forced her attention away. She would not participate, not in her thoughts, not in her attention, and never in her heart!

  “Repeat after me. I, Sabrina Lyndsey…”

  “I—I …” Sabrina looked up into the face of the old and shallow man who was to be her husband and released her full revulsion with this travesty. “I will not!”

  McDonnell’s features contorted as he reached for her. “What say you?”

  “The lady demurs, sir! And that is enough for me!”

  That voice! Sabrina swung round, her heart leaping in foolish helpless joy even before she spied her savior at the back of the church.

  A tall figure in a gentleman’s overcoat stood at the back of the chapel, his tricorner pulled low and his face muffled by his cravat. Nearly as welcome as he was the pistol he carried.

  “What the devil!” cried Merripace.

  “The unholy soul himself,” the masked intruder answered as he came forth, the pistol in his hand as steady as it was deadly.

  “Darlington!” McDonnell spat.

  “I would not be so certain in my judgement, fellow, lest I decide your life is forfeit in my need to escape.”

  He came up beside Sabrina and motioned Merripace back with the barrel. “You may now continue, padre.”

  “With the ceremony?” the small man asked doubtfully.

  “Yes, but with one minor alteration. Miss Lyndsey is to pledge herself to Jack Laughton.”

  “You cannot do that!” cried McDonnell.

  “Can and will.” He leveled the pistol at the man’s middle. “Do you wish to stand as witness here or in heaven?” The man visibly paled. “If you are uncertain, then I suggest you remain mortal a while longer.”

  Sabrina tucked her hand in her outlaw’s as the minister began. He faltered several times at the beginning, then went on more strongly. The vows were quickly exchanged, though Jack could not spare her a glance away from their enemies even as he pledged himself to her, “Until death do us part.”

  “It is not binding,” McDonnell jeered when the ceremony was complete. “I have not given my blessing.”

  “It will serve my needs.” Jack backed over to where the document lay open, waiting for the wedded couple’s signatures. He dashed Merripace’s name from the text and then recorded his own.

  Sabrina followed suit, smiling foolishly as she did so. When she looked up, there was mischief in her eyes.

  “I did not know your middle name was Larchmont?”

  “Only one of the many dubious surprises married life is bound to serve you,” he answered. “Are you ready to forsake all others for me?”

  “Yes, yes!”

  He drew her quickly with him back down the aisle up which he had come. McDonnell started after them, yelling quite crude oaths that Sabrina would never have expected from so pious a man.

  Once through the doors, Jack paused to stick a key he drew from his pocket into the lock and turned it.

  “ ’Twas on the other side as I entered,” he explained and then tore off his mask, put his pistol away, and picked up Sabrina to carry her the few short yards to the waiting coach.

  It was snowing again, the crisp white flakes falling softly through the twilight to kiss Sabrina’s cheeks. And she laughed aloud, thinking them as beautiful as any blossoms showered upon any bride and groom.

  The earl’s traveling coach pulled away the instant Jack slammed the door behind them. Darkness descended about them as he drew closed the leather curtains, wrapping them in a dreamy world where nothing existed but themselves.

  Sabrina felt suddenly shy. He had seated himself opposite her, as if uncertain he would be welcome by her side.

  “They will give chase,” she said, because she could think of no other topic.

  “I doubt even the hounds of hell can outpace the earl’s best team,” he answered lightly.

  Sabrina gazed at him through the dark, wishing she could see his expression. His voice sent flushed ripples though her body. “Where are we going?”

  He leaned forward and placed his hands at her throat. “Ah, well, there was a stipulation in my release.”

  “Was there?” she whispered faintly, feeling the heat of desire in his touch.

  His hands unbuttoned her cloak and pushed it from her shoulders. “I am, it seems, an undesirable person in my homeland. I’ve been charged into exile.”


  Sabrina gasped softly as his hands found and strongly traced the curves of her breasts to her waist. “For how long?”

  “Forever, sweeting.” His hands went round her back and begun plucking the strings that held her gown closed. “What do you think of that?”

  “Where shall we go?”

  He smiled. She had not hesitated to ask. What a woman! “First to Plymouth, which is where Zuberi has been hiding Kit.” He quickly pulled her free of her bodice. “Then I had thought we might sail to Barbados. The trade winds are sweet this time of year.”

  “I hear it is very like—” His thumb found and circled an instantly puckering nipple. “Paradise,” she breathed softly as his lips touched her neck.

  “So some say,” he murmured against her throat. “You will have to judge for yourself, my love.” He raised his head and brushed his lips across hers. “You are my love, my life, my wife.”

  “Wife!” The word rang with sudden intense truth inside Sabrina’s thoughts. She was Jack’s wife!

  The joy of it made her fall back against the soft leather squabs of her seat in giddy, abandoned laughter.

  Given the invitation, Jack quickly moved over to her and lifted the hem of her skirt, fighting petticoats and hoops and a half dozen other impediments until he found what he sought.

  “We will be cast as outlaws wherever we go.”

  She sighed and closed her eyes and hugged him closer. “I have always been accounted an outlaw by those who knew me best.”

  “You’ll be gambling your life away on a thorough-going devil.”

  She reached down between them and cupped him through the fabric of his breeches. “Then I see I shall have to practice my she-devil tendencies.”

  “I beg you, do,” he gasped softly as she kneaded his swollen flesh.

  When she had released him from his breeches, he pushed into her, sliding. home where he belonged. “Then the West Indies it shall be,” he answered in laughter.

  “And what will we do there?” she whispered as he plied the soft, melting center of her.

  “Oh, we shall do this, and this, and most especially this!”

  As the coach rocked briskly along the road south toward the coast, Jack and Sabrina lay wrapped tightly in one another’s arms and legs, riding their own way to paradise.

  More from Laura Parker

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  Hadrian Blackburne returns to London from the war. Thought to have been killed at Waterloo, he soon wishes he were, instead bored to tears by his unruly family and his role as Lord. He misses the spy games of Persia, where he was a master of intrigue. His attention is snared by a ravishing, veiled beauty who has swept into London’s Regency society on a cloud of exotic mystery.

  Who is this Princess Sultana el Djemal? Hadrian must know, even if playing the game of love could cost him body and soul.

  Clarissa Willoughby’s harmless deception was designed to open doors for a widow ready to shed her weeds. Once Hadrian begins his pursuit of “Sultana,” his passionate seduction makes Clarissa jealous of the exotic temptress she herself created. The game of love becomes more perilous than way when Clarissa sets out to win Hadrian’s heart, battling again his suspicions and her alter ego.

  Mischief (The Masqueraders Series - Book Two)

  One night of passion can build a world. One memory can tear it down.

  As Napoleon invades Persia, clever but shy Japonica Fortmon is chosen by the ailing English Viscount Shrewsbury to arrange his escape from Baghdad. To get him out, Japonica must enlist the aid of the infamous Hind Div, a man as mysterious as he is ruthless. Whispered to be a spy, an assassin, and even a sorcerer, Hind Div agrees to help Fortmon, and all it will cost her is a night of passion.

  A year later and the war is over. Freshly widowed Japonica arrives in England, wishing only to settle her unruly step-daughters with Devlyn Sinclair, the new Viscount, and to return to France, and the son conceived on that one night of surrender. She is stunned to recognize the new Viscount, for he is none other than Hind Div, only scarred by war and missing any memory of the merciless man he once was. If his memory returns, he could claim back his son and destroy Japonica. She must live with this man who once ignited her passions, and has started to once more, and to restore to him a sense of pride, of honor, of identity, even if it costs her everything.

  Beguiled (The Masqueraders Series - Book Three)

  Everything has a price — except for love, and revenge…

  In the darkest hours of her life, disgraced heiress Philadelphia Hunt is approached by a handsome stranger, a Brazilian jewel-miner named Eduardo Tavares. He makes an outrageous proposition—disguise herself and join him in a devious con to swindle America’s upper crust out of their riches. Philadelphia is desperate, and intrigued, by both this enchanting stranger and his promises of her return to high society.

  But a deeper masquerade is afoot. Little does Philadelphia know that the man responsible for her father’s disgrace and suicide is Eduardo himself, the very man in whose arms she is discovering the scorching heat of desire. And little does Eduardo know that Philadelphia’s thirst for vengeance cannot be quenched. Nor can their passion, as secrets and betrayals set this pair of lovers on a path that will lead to a new life—or to their destruction…

  Emerald and Sapphire (The Masqueraders Series - Book Four)

  He’s known as Merlyn Ross, an actor and petty thief. He’s a handsome commoner who wears a leather eyepatch, his other eye a piercing emerald green. He’s also known as the Comte de Valure, a dashing French nobleman who wears a grey wig and a silk eye patch, his other eye an chanting sapphire blue. Admired by men, adored by women, no one suspects that Merlyn and the Comte are one and the same, or that both men steal more than kisses when setting out to seduce London’s wealthiest women.

  But one night changes everything.

  Cassandra, a highborn lady, is the target of a robbery, and the victim of amnesia. Locked away as a vagrant, she is sold for one night’s pleasures to a prisoner who has been condemned to death, a man with an emerald eye. One year later, as Cassandra’s memory has been partially restored, her child, conceived on that fateful night, is being held hostage by her father-in-law. It is only here that she meets the Comte and realizes who he really is. Determined to keep the woman he fell in love with on their night together in that dark prison, Merlyn must pull off the heist of his lifetime against a formidable foe, and he must become the one singular man worthy of his one true love.

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