He sighed. “You are a rash woman.”
Portia desperately wanted to flee him, but coward that she was, she did not dare leave her post. If Lord Trelyn came and discovered his wife and her lover, she had no doubt that her own shame would be all over London tomorrow.
She waited therefore, senses twitching, for Bryght’s next move. He did not come near her. Instead, he lit the candles on the table.
“What are you doing?” she demanded nervously.
He said nothing, but took down a book. With a trickle of unease, Portia saw it was a Bible. He laid it open on one of the lecterns and flipped through the pages until he came to a place. Then he stood back and gestured. “Come, Miss St. Claire, and prepare to admit your fault.”
Portia would have dearly liked to refuse, but pride and honor would not permit it. She walked forward.
The Song Of Songs. What on earth was that?
And there were the words he had quoted. And more like them.
Suspiciously, she checked the title of the book, the other sections, and even peered to see if these pages could have been inserted. Then, with a sinking feeling, she turned to face him. “My Bible does not have this.”
“I think you will find that the pages have been neatly cut out. I have heard of such barbarous practices.”
“Those words do seem unsuited to a Holy Book.”
His smile was suspiciously innocent. “It is an allegory of the soul and God.”
She glanced at the lectern. “It does not seem so to me.”
“Nor to me. It is a lovely representation of God’s gift to humanity.” In a soft, gentle voice he asked, “Do you admit your fault, Portia?”
He had never used her name before, and instead of undiluted outrage, Portia felt a shock of intimacy. She closed her eyes. Her head told her he was a wicked gamester and philanderer, but he could still weave a spell about her heart.
A hand touched her cheek. Her eyes sprang open and she flinched away.
He caught her in his arms, “You do not learn easily, Hippolyta. Again you tempted Dame Fortune and lost. It is time to pay your forfeit.” He smiled at her. “You really can’t scream here, you know. Nor would it be fair.”
He was right. Not only would the fuss and commotion cast her reputation into doubt, but it could expose Nerissa.
That would lead to her own ruin.
“Please don’t,” she whispered.
His hand curved softly around her neck, causing a shiver to pass down her spine. “You look as if I’m about to torture you. Was our previous encounter so terrible?”
Portia summoned ice for her voice. “You would do better not to mention that at all, my lord.”
Magical fingers played at her nape. “I admit there were some shortcomings, but I was laboring under a considerable handicap. Would you not care to try again in more favorable circumstances?”
Portia fought, then, but he was too strong and willing to use his strength. She stopped at the first touch of pain.
“You’re hurting me!”
“You’re fighting.”
“I have the right to fight.”
“Not this time. You lost and must pay.”
“You’re vile!”
She saw his jaw tighten. “Do you deny that you made a wager and lost?”
