He flashed her a smirk, which managed to warm her insides. “Am I a child?”
What...? But, of course, he was the Piccadilly Player. “Not even close.”
“Then we must play first.” Threading his fingers through hers, he tugged her past a few vendors who were indeed selling all manner of wares. He didn’t stop until they’d reached one of the smaller tents. There, a man wearing all black but for the flamboyant feathers in his tall black hat moved gold-painted walnut halves around one another on a felt-covered table.
A banner hung behind him where Count Bartholomew’s Mystical Exhibition had been painted in uneven letters.
“Do you think he is really a count?” Nia whispered to Jasper.
“Not even if one traced his lineage back a dozen centuries.” And then he chuckled. Nia loved when he laughed—she loved the low, rumbling sound, but also how the yellow flecks in his eyes seemed to dance. “But who’s to know?”
“Would the lovely lady care to win the jewel of her choice?” The count stopped them with his voice, displaying a velvet box. It showcased a dozen carefully positioned pretty trinkets, though it was obvious they had been made with paste.
Nia bit her lip, feeling as though she ought to say no, and yet, she also experienced a tow of challenge.
Jasper did not wait for her to answer but tossed out a penny and then his breath warmed her insides when he spoke near her ear. “Time to play.”
When he whispered those words, it sounded wicked and sensual, and she couldn’t stop the heat that crept up her neck.
“Watch carefully,” the count instructed her. “To win, you must identify which shell holds the pea. You will have three opportunities. Easy enough, eh?” He pocketed Jasper’s money even as he slipped the pea under the center walnut. Forcing her attention away from Jasper to the walnut with the pea, she smiled to herself while the man slid each of the halves at various intervals in half-circles around one another. It was almost too easy.
When he stopped moving them, Nia confidently pointed to the one with the pea.
And she was wrong.
Two more tries, and she frowned. “I was so sure…”
Jasper tossed out another penny, and although Count Bartholomew shot him a wary glance, he rolled the pea around with his fingertip and then slid it beneath the center shell.
Following a similar show of dancing the shells around one another and then lining them up in a row, Jasper pointed to what Nia believed was not the correct shell.
But when the count lifted it, the small green ball rolled out.
“I believe the lady has a selection to make.” Jasper rolled his lips together as the carnival gamesman reluctantly retrieved his box of prizes. Nia peered at the selection but kept her hands behind her back.
“I don’t really need—”
“The blue one is almost as pretty as your eyes.” Jasper met her stare and then gestured toward a silver ring adorned with blue glass that resembled a sapphire—obviously made of paste, but it sparkled nonetheless.
“It is pretty,” Nia said.
“Let’s see if it fits, shall we?”
Nia held out her hand, feeling ridiculously shy as she remembered the last time she’d nearly allowed a man to slide a ring onto her finger.
Jasper clasped her hand and the pretty blue ring fit perfectly.
“Do you like it?” He watched her as though it was a matter of great importance.
Surprisingly enough, she did. But she liked more than the ring.
She liked him.
Very much. Too much?
Nia nodded.
And he sent her yet another charming grin. Butterflies danced in her chest as they moved on to the next tent.
