Page 92 of Rules for a Wicked Wager

“Excellent,” she said. Quietly and with a shallow pant.

“Abhorrent. I like you better lush.” Then he turned her around, and his gaze dropped to her breasts. “Though I suppose there are some advantages,” he murmured as he stroked a finger slowly across her breasts.

She felt her skin heat, and her breath caught. “Kiss me,” she whispered.

She needn’t have asked. He was already leaning in. So they kissed. Not deeply, but long. And when they separated, his gaze was intense.

“We will marry as soon as the banns are read.”

She dropped her hands on her hips. “I cannot manage a wedding fit for an earl in three weeks’ time.”

“Between you and my mother, I am sure you can.”

“But—”

“I have waited six years for you, Mari. I am impatient to begin our life together.”

She’d been dreaming of the day she’d be mistress of a home since she was old enough to pick up a doll and order her brother’s soldiers around. “Finish the contract with my father, and I will see what can be done about the wedding.”

He agreed with a swift kiss. “Hurry now. If we linger much longer, I will have you back in my bed.”

She smiled at that thought and pulled on the gown. It was tight, but she managed it, though there was nothing to be done about her hair. The pins were long gone. She tied it back, pulled on the heavy shoes, and pronounced herself ready. At least until she put her hand in the pocket of the gown.

All the things that she’d gotten from Madame Ille were there. A French letter to cover his organ. A sponge soaked in vinegar to set inside her. All the things to prevent pregnancy and they’d stayed in her gown…unused.

“Mari, are you ready?”

“Um, yes.” No help for it now. She had already agreed to be his bride. And, thankfully, he wanted a quick wedding. So if she was pregnant, then so be it. Indeed, the idea filled her with a quiet warmth.

Two minutes later, they were in a hackney and headed to her home. It wasn’t a long distance, but they spent every moment in each other’s arms. She doubted she would ever tire of kissing him. Then the hackney stopped. She would have lingered, but he refused to allow it.

“How will you get in?”

“I have a key to the back. Everyone’s asleep and won’t stir for another hour.” Half hour more like, but she didn’t quibble.

“Have you done this before?”

“No, but my sister did. Sometimes she just needed to run free, even in London.”

“Dangerous.”

“I know. But she was quick and careful. Just like I will be.”

He nodded, pressed a last kiss to her lips, then pushed open the door. “I will call on your father today.”

“I will be waiting.” Then she hopped out of the hackney and ran as quickly as was possible to the kitchen entrance. She opened the door quietly, tiptoeing as she slipped inside. But a moment later, she realized her mistake.

The kitchen was well lit.

She turned slowly, dread rising from the pit of her stomach to choke off her breath. She turned around to see her parents, the cook, a young boy, and Horace, all staring at her.

“Sodding hell,” cursed her father.

She couldn’t help but agree. What was she supposed to do now? Her best choice, she decided, was to distract them, so she smiled at the dirty boy eating some honey bread. “Hullo there. You’re a new face.”

Her father slammed his hand down on the table. “Where the devil have you been?”

“At Lord Vinson’s ball,” she said with a bright smile. “It, er, was a masquerade ball.”