“That’s tonight’s lesson? Duplicity and guile? And where did you pick up bourbon”—She held up her glass—“and Mississippi riverboat games?”
“On a Mississippi riverboat.”
“Nick”—And she’d thought he could never shock her again—“when were you on the Mississippi River?”
It occurred to her that she must forget everything she thought she knew about this man and start from scratch. Before her stood a spy who made secret ocean voyages, drank exotic whiskeys, and played cards on Mississippi riverboats.
Oh, and he happened to be her husband.
Three taps sounded on the door.
“I shall save that story for another time,” he called over his shoulder.
A shrill, excited squeal from downstairs burst into the room alongside two saucy young strumpets who sauntered in with arms linked, each gripping an open bottle of champagne. Their dark flashing eyes flitted between Mariana and Nick before one whispered into the other’s ear, and they giggled in unison. Mariana’s hand felt for the chair beside her, and she searched Nick’s face for a clue about tonight’s proceedings. But he betrayed not a single thought.
The subject of the strumpets’ matching smirks and giggles became immediately apparent to Mariana. They were speculating about her and Nick, and what such a couple would require of them. In their place, she would wonder the same. Actually, now that she thought about it, shedidwonder the same. What would be required of these two strumpets tonight?
One fact was obvious: they weren’t innocent virgins, and this situation was neither new nor shocking to them. In fact, she was likely the only person in this room to whom this particular circumstance would be . . .fresh. Every muscle in her body tensed at the perverse notion. She readied herself for the night with half the contents of her glass.
“Yvette and Lisette will be playing with us,” came Nick’s low voice, closer to her ear than she expected.
Playing with us?Mariana turned to find him at her elbow. “Are you on a first name basis with every strumpet in Paris?”
A quicksilver grin crossed his lips as he pulled out the chair beside her. “Shall we?”
She bit back a responding smile. She liked the way that particular smile transformed his serious and intense visage into that of a carefree boy. She’d made herself forget all about that smile, and now she remembered it. She was remembering too much.
If she knew what was good for her, she would hasten to Calais and board the next ship bound for England. But she didn’t know what was good for her, because she lowered herself onto the proffered seat and arranged her skirts as if settling in for a long evening. Nick sat to her left, Yvette and Lisette to her right, and the croupier across.
One could almost forget the croupier, so quiet and understated he was, eyes cast down, face obscured by the beard so characteristic of a certain class of Parisian. Yet a familiarity hung about the man that she couldn’t lay a finger on.
The thought was replaced by matters more urgent when Nick nodded, and the croupier began dealing several sets of five cards arranged in various combinations.
Nick made no move to pick up the cards. “Poker is a vying game, similar to Brag.”
“Brag uses three cards,” Mariana pointed out.
“Similar. Not the same.”
Again, that patient note sounded in his voice. It found its way beneath her skin and nestled there.
As Nick proceeded to explain the rules of the game and its winning combinations, Mariana only caught every other word. Yvette and Lisette, with their ceaseless whispering and giggling, provided constant distraction. They, too, had found their way beneath her skin.
Uninterested in the words coming out of Nick’s mouth, they displayed a most definite interest in him as a man. One strumpet leaned forward in feigned curiosity, when really she was offering him a view of her décolletage, while the other strumpet skated her tongue across her bottom lip in a brazen attempt to draw his eye to the nature of its potential charms. Mariana had seen it dozens of times. Women simply couldn’t help themselves around Nick.
“Shall we?” he asked once he concluded his tutorial. He distributed three bags of small coins around the table before the croupier performed a quick shuffle and dealt. The game was on.
Mariana picked up her cards and hid an unruly smile. A straight flush. Even though the cards were low, it was one of the best combinations in the game.
She added a few coins to the pot and glanced around, trying—and likely failing—to mask her elation. Nick’s face, on the other hand, gave nothing away as he changed two cards. Meanwhile, Yvette and Lisette drank champagne straight from the bottle and giggled, not bothering to hide their cards from each other.
When the time came to reveal her cards, Mariana’s heart raced at the prospect of a win. Yvette and Lisette showed one pair each before Nick laid out a full house. Relief stole through Mariana. If anyone could have bested her straight flush, it would have been Nick.
“Well done.”
“Beginner’s luck, to be sure,” she allowed as she reached for her winnings. All she wanted to do was crow in triumph.
It felt good to best Nick. Always. Obviously, there was nothing to this game.
