“Truly?”
The marquess narrowed his eyes. “I detect the beginnings of a scowl on your face, madame. Do you doubt my word on the matter? Would you like to see the bill of sale?”
“That is hardly necessary,” Meredith replied. She knew she should make some sort of apology for her ungenerous remark, but the marquess’s righteous indignation rankled her. After all, it was not as if he had never won and then lost a pair of prime cattle on the turn of a card. She knew for a fact he had done both.
“The horses are nearly at the starting line, but there is still time to place a small wager.” He glowered at her. “Unless you object?”
“I am not such a prude as to make a fuss over a side bet of a few shillings,” Meredith retorted.
“I am pleased to hear it.” He stared hard at the racecourse. “So whom do you chose to win?”
Meredith looked down in dismay at her reticule, which contained a second pair of gloves, smelling salts, and a linen handkerchief. “I brought no coin with me.”
“I shall advance you a stake. You may reimburse me from your winnings.”
Meredith could not contain her laugh. “And if I lose?”
His eyes searched hers. Then his lips curled in a devilish grin. “I imagine we can devise some other form of payment.”
His head was bent low, his face close enough that she could feel his warm breath upon her cheek. It was too tempting not to risk it. Meredith tilted her chin and let her lips settle on his.
She could feel his initial jolt of surprise at her action, but there was no resistance. Instead, he parted his lips and opened his mouth to her. The kiss deepened. Softness and warmth spread through her, making her heart beat faster and her insides quiver.
Yet it was Meredith who reluctantly ended the kiss, mindful that they were in a most public place.
“A bonus for the crowd today,” she whispered. “They get several exciting horse races along with a show from the Marquess of Dardington and his bride.”
The look he gave her sent a thrill along every inch of her skin. “Blushes from a woman who challenged me to frolic naked in a fountain? You are a fraud, madame.”
With a seductive wink, the marquess backed away. Blushing anew, Meredith reached for the parasol she had set beside her, but found it missing. How strange. Leaning over, she glanced at the grass below to see if it had fallen. It was no where in sight.
“Is anything amiss?”
Meredith somehow managed to swallow her scream of fright. She straightened and faced her husband. “How did you manage to place our wagers and return so quickly?”
He grinned boyishly. “I have not had the chance to place a bet. You never told me which horse you wanted to wager upon.”
“Rascal, naturally.”
“An optimist. I like that in a woman.”
She swayed toward him, for one wild moment thinking he might kiss her again. Their gazes remained locked, but then sanity prevailed. Pulling back before making an utter ninny of herself, Meredith lowered her eyes. “Hurry, or else you will miss the race.”
Only when she was certain Trevor had gone did Meredith lift her head. As she combed the foggy recesses of her confused mind trying to understand her husband, she remained certain of only one thing. Invitation. It was there in his eyes, in his smile, in his heated body and teasing words.
Just a few days prior, Trevor had spoken so openly about passion and physical desire, had adamantly insisted their relationship remain at a physical distance until it could be managed. Yet it that today he had not let one moment pass when an invitation had not been clearly issued to her.
A sexual, sensuous invitation.
She was acting just as bad, teasing and flirting with him for all she was worth. Yet she knew what she was about, knew her actions had been deliberate. Ever since her wedding night, Meredith had wanted nothing more than to break through the wall of indifference Trevor had erected between them.
She felt as if she had finally managed to chisel away a few of those staunch bricks. And the afternoon was not yet over!
The marquess returned just as the race began. The starting gun sounded and Meredith stood in excitement as the animals leaped forward, manes flying, hooves thundering along the hard-packed earth.
“Looks like our boy is making a slow start,” Trevor observed. “He’s dead last.”
“They have barely rounded the first turn,” Meredith protested. “Give him a chance.”
