What to do? He blew out a breath and pressed his lips together, sweeping his arm to Jensen. “After ye.”
“Lord Campbell has given the first box to Sir Jensen,” the dealer called out to the gathering crowd.
Jensen stepped up to the table of boxes stacked in two rows of three. Gingerly, he reached out to the cloth covering the opening. The man looked a little pale. Christopher got the feeling he didn’t play games of chance very often.
Slowly, Jensen reached into the box, a couple of times, he jerked his hand back as if he was afraid that whatever was in the box was going to bite it off.
Finally, he closed his eyes and pulled out what was inside the box.
Christopher’s eyes rounded. The biggest, hairiest spider he’d ever seen was cupped in Jensen’s hand, and the man was practically in tears.
Mayhap the boxes could contain something harmful.
The dealer spoke up. “You have drawn a tarantula. You must allow it to crawl up one of your arms and down the other.”
“Pardon?” Jensen asked weakly.
Christopher shuddered. Apparently, Mrs. Dove-Lyon had connections that allowed her to bring in exotic creatures. He’d never seen such a thing in Scotland, and he doubted the spider was native to England.
“If you refuse to complete a task, you automatically forfeit the game.”
With a deep breath, Jensen opened his palm and outstretched his arms, trying to hold them steady, but he couldn’t stop shaking.
Christopher fought the urge to jump back in case the spider had any ideas to switch hosts. But he remained where he was and watched as the spider unfurled its hairy legs completely and started moving about.
Jensen’s breaths were short and fast. He looked like he was about to faint by the time the spider finally completed his route of traveling from arm to arm and the dealer scooped him into a small box with a lid.
Jensen sighed with relief and took a couple of steps back.
Stepping up to the table, Christopher rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbow. Surely they wouldn’t have two spiders in the boxes, would they? He took a deep breath and shoved his hand into the opening, tamping down his own rising fear. He needed to show a brave face. He smiled when his hand closed around something that felt much like a small pie.
He pulled the item out and studied what looked to be a tart of some sort. “You have drawn the special tart. Made of special ingredients including pig intestines and beetles. You must eat the whole tart to complete your task.”
Christopher studied the tart, it wasn’t overly large, smaller than most, but the pungent scent infiltrated his senses. He hadn’t any idea what else was baked into the crust, but he could only imagine how awful the taste would be. It didn’t matter. He had to eat it.
Not looking at the tart as he brought it to his mouth, he tried to ignore the smell as he took the first bite. Chewing as fast and as little as he could, he swallowed, fighting against the reflex to hurl up the disgusting-tasting contents and took another bite. He couldn’t describe the taste other than putrid and nothing like he had ever eaten before.
Three more bites and he was done. He was quite sure he had turned green. But he kept the tart down, and they moved on to the next round.
Jensen pulled a vial filled with a liquid that turned his stomach into a roiling mess, but he managed to drink it and keep the contents of his stomach down.
Christopher had pulled a snake that he had to allow to constrict his neck for thirty seconds. Just as he thought he was going to pass out, the time was up and the snake was pulled off of him. He gasped for air, fighting the stars that had appeared behind his eyes.
“You have both made it to the final round.” The dealer announced. “Since one of these boxes contains the key, and the other,” he paused, “not the key, you will both pull at the same time.”
This was it. He had a fifty percent chance of victory. Now that he could breathe normally again, his body hummed with excitement.
They each stepped up to their respective boxes.
“I will count to three and you both will reach in and pull out the item in your box. Understood?” He asked.
Both men nodded.
Christopher wet his lips in anticipation. He could almost taste the win. His fingers shook to reach in.
“Good luck,” Christopher offered.
“Keep it,” Jensen said in a clipped voice. “You’re going to need it more than I.”
