The heat that came upon them made their clothing an irritant. They grappled with her belted robe and his drawers. He bunched yards of her nightgown in his fists as she reared up and released it again when she straddled him. He helped her take him into her, shifted his gaze from the point of their joining to her eyes, watched her and saw his own need and satisfaction reflected there.
She moved slowly at first, arching over him like a water nymph rising from the sea. He held her hips, pressed his fingers against her bottom, but let the rhythm, the pace, be what she wanted. She worked him slowly, but not for long. Frustration overtook her, need overcame her, and she surrendered all of herself to a tidal wave of selfish, primal pleasure.
And took him in her wake.
Neither of them spoke in the immediate aftermath. The tremors were too sweet to interrupt. They lay unmoving, waiting for their hearts to cease hammering. Griffin had one arm flung across his eyes, the other across Olivia’s back. Her face was turned toward his neck, the rest of her lay flush against him. She could not find the wherewithal to push herself away and the arm lying heavily on her back like a paperweight made certain she stayed precisely as she was.
“God.” Griffin made the low, guttural response with feeling.
“Mmm.”
“I am undone.”
“Mmm.”
“Did you crawl inside me?” he asked. “It seemed as if you did.”
Olivia bit the side of his neck gently.
Griffin accepted her chastisement, stopped talking, and in moments was sleeping soundly.
Nat knew nothing about card games. He offered this information in the hope that it would persuade Miss Cole to seek other entertainments. She was not in the least put off by his ignorance, a turn of events that he found altogether disappointing. He was of a mind to remain in his room and play with his soldiers. He had enough for two armies now and intended to re-create the pivotal battle where Alexander met and defeated Darius, the great king of all Persia. He did not explain this to Miss Cole because it was his experience that women found such stories tedious. Battles and bloodshed did not appear to interest them.
It was incomprehensible.
“Shall I teach you Napoleon?” Olivia asked as she shuffled the cards. “Sometimes it is called écarté. Are you familiar?”
“Écarté,” he said, dragging his eyes away from her hands as the cards flew back and forth between her fingers. “I know that word. It means far apart. Lonely.”
“Just as Napoleon was on Elba and later, St. Helena, so it is all of a piece, isn’t it?” She stopped shuffling and passed the deck to him for a cut. When he simply stared at her, she explained what he should do. “It is your choice. Most players prefer to cut. They all do if they are concerned that the dealer may be moved to cheat on the deal.”
He glanced at the cards, then at her.
“I will not be offended if you make a cut. You have no reason at all to trust me.”
He separated the deck carefully, choosing to make two almost equal piles, then restacked them opposite of his cut.
“Very good,” said Olivia. She took up the cards and dealt them each three, then two. She explained the rules and object of the game. “It will become clearer after we play a few hands. As for the scoring, you and I should agree on what we’ll use to make our payments. Have you any money?” At his frown, she shrugged. “No, I didn’t think you would. It’s of no matter. I brought a purse of farthings with me.” She reached for the small leather bag she’d attached like a pocket to her morning dress and laid it on the table. “Go on. You open it and divide the coins between us. What you are able to win from me, you may keep, but what I am advancing you now must be returned. Do you understand?”
He nodded and divvied the coins with the same precision he’d used to cut the cards.
“If you bid that you can take all five tricks,” Olivia explained, “that is called a nap. Upon succeeding, I will have to pay you ten. But if you fail to make your nap, then you must pay me five. Bid a Wellington, and it means you bid to take all five tricks but have to give me ten farthings if you fail. Bid a Blücher, and the payout is twenty for one of us.” She paused, picking up her cards to examine them, then encouraged him to do the same. She stole a glance at him as he studied his cards. His small mouth was no longer set in the grim line that was his usual mien. Earnestness had caused his expression to take a different shape, and the point of his pink tongue peeked out from one corner of his lips. “You know who Wellington and Blücher are, don’t you? I didn’t think to explain.”
“Waterloo,” he said.
“I wonder if they know their names are now attached to a card game,” Olivia said, “and if they’re honored or find it lowering.”
He did not venture an opinion about Olivia’s musings, but said instead, “Wellington should pay more than a Blücher.”
“Ah, an Englishman through and through, aren’t you?” When he did not respond, she did not pursue and directed him to bid his hand. She was surprised, and not a little pleased, when he did so without hesitation. “I can do better than your three hearts, so let us see how you play out the deal.”
He won four tricks handily, while she managed to take the last. She settled a farthing on him and watched a glimmer of a smile surface. Satisfied, Olivia showed him how to make the deal and the play continued.
“He won twenty-three farthings from me,” she told Griffin at tea. “Can you imagine? And never played the game before. It was quite astonishing. I think he must possess a formidable intelligence.”
Griffin chose a slim slice of pound cake from the tray and slid it onto his plate. “I cannot say anything about his intelligence. What I imagine is that you pushed some very good cards on him.”
She made a face. “Oh, very well. In the beginning. Just to give him confidence to make a bid, and that has nothing at all to do with his cognitive powers. He still could have offered no bid, but he took the risk, and I found that reason enough to hope.” She wagged her fork at him. “Have you visited him today?”
