Page 46 of A Stranger’s Gamble

“Forgive me, Beatrice.” Adam shucked his coat and placed it over her shoulders.

The fabric was warm from his body, and she shivered again.

“Are you still cold?” he asked.

“Nae, I-I am fine, thank you.” But she wasn’t fine. It felt odd to be wearing his coat.

They reached the fountain and sat down on the stone bench that surrounded the fountain. The murmur of voices somewhere deeper in the garden told Sophie they were not completely alone—but they were alone enough. She should return to the ballroom before someone missed her. She had already slighted one gentleman by giving Adam his dance, no doubt the next gentleman on her dance card awaited his turn.

“Is your mistress enjoying herself?” Adam asked.

“What?” Sophie nodded. “Oh, yes, of course.”

“What does she think of Lord Monthemer?”

“She thinks no differently of him now than she did when she arrived,” Sophie replied.

“Meeting him in person has not altered her opinion?” he asked.

“Why should it? He is only marrying her for her money.”

“Ah, yes, I forgot that.”

Sophie looked at him and frowned. “Is something amiss?”

“What would be amiss? We are at a lovely party and I’m sitting in the garden with a beautiful woman.”

He thought she was beautiful?

He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, so they sat thigh to thigh. She flushed. This was a dangerous game she played. Everything was fine until her father had arrived. If not for him, she could have continued to see Adam until she left. Now….

Sophie stood. “Perhaps I should return to the ballroom.” She took his coat from her shoulders as he stood. Cold air washed over her. “Thank you for the use of your coat.” She handed him the coat, then started toward the ballroom.

Strong fingers closed around her wrist and Adam swung her to face him. “Mr. MacAlister,” she said in the instant before his mouth covered hers.

He slipped his tongue inside her mouth. He tasted of brandy. She liked brandy, though she’d never tasted it on a man’s tongue before. Her stomach did a somersault. He pressed her close and she became aware of the hard length digging into her belly. Her head whirled. It had been too long since she’d experienced a man’s desire—though Adam’s desire seemed far more insistent than Matthew’s ever had.

Sophie broke the kiss. “Sir,” she said in a too-breathless voice. “I believe we should return—”

The murmur of voices intruded upon them. Sophie jumped back, heart racing. Embarrassment warmed her cheeks. She was acting like a girl still in the schoolroom instead of a widow. Adam thought her to be Beatrice Frasier, companion to Miss Sophie Shaw. Would a companion be afraid as she was? Yes, Beatrice would be afraid of being considered a loose woman, as ladies didn’t like having loose women as companions.

A couple emerged from the shadows beyond the fountain, and Sophie realized Adam hadn’t put on his coat. She wanted to turn aside in order to hide her face but feared Adam would think her childish. Wasn’t she acting childish? She’d protested coming into the garden but had allowed Adam to lead her here. She’d said she should return to the ballroom, yet still stood here with him. The couple passed, and Sophie spun and started toward the mansion. Adam fell into step alongside her as he slipped on his coat.

They reached the ballroom, and she halted. “I am quite thirsty.”

“Then I suppose I should get you something to drink,” he said.

She nodded, gaze on the floor. “Thank you.”

“I shall return in a moment.” He started through the crowd.

Sophie immediately scanned the room for signs of her father, Beatrice, or Lady Seafield. She didn’t see her father. That meant he was likely with other gentlemen off drinking brandy. She caught sight of Beatrice on the dancefloor with a tall, handsome man who looked down at her as if she were Aphrodite. Beatrice looked as if she wanted to run. It was high time she learned what it was like to have male attention.

Sophie couldn’t locate Lady Seafield and decided now was a good time to make an escape. Adam would be angry that she had deserted him, but she couldn’t risk that her father might talk to him and learn it was he who had taken her to the oyster cellars. Without doubt, her father would insist the marquess terminate Adam’s employment. It would be all her fault for not telling Adam who she really was. He would never have agreed to spend time with her if he’d known. That meant she couldn’t see him again.

Sophie grasped the dance card hanging from her left wrist and looked at the second line and gasped at sight of Lord Monthemer’s name for the dance Adam had poached. Her father would be furious. Normally, she wouldn’t worry overly much about her father’s frustrations. He rarely got angry or even upset with her. But on the rare occasions he did get angry or make demands, he seldom relented. Why was he suddenly so insistent that she marry?

She looked around and realized she had better get lost in the crowd. It wouldn’t do for Adam to return with drinks. Lord only knew when the marquess might show up, demanding the dance she’d given away.

She glanced again at the dance card and read the name Mr. John Evers on the third line. She didn’t know Mr. Evers and didn’t want to. Sophie pushed through the crowd to a hallway and turned down the first open door she came. She stopped short and looked around the room. Men occupied nearly a dozen tables playing cards.

Sophie released a breath. Adam would never think to look in here for in the cardroom.