Page 19

“The sand has run through.” Dominic reached for the ribbon, but her fingers closed gently around his wrist, her touch light and sure. “Allow me.”

He lowered his hand, his pulse leaping beneath her fingertips. She came up behind him again, and the knot loosened beneath her fingers as the silk tugged softly at his hair. When she drew the silk away, candlelight returned in a warm blur, and he blinked against the sudden brightness. Amelia stood beside him, flushed with laughter, her hair slightly less orderly than when she arrived, a few pale strands escaping to curl against her temples. Her eyes shone.

He looked at her for a moment, then remembered the forfeit, struck silent by the sight. She had been magnificent across a card table. She was even lovelier when she forgot to conceal how much she was enjoying herself. “Well?” she asked, a little breathless.

Dominic began to unbutton his coat. Her laughter quieted, and her lips parted.

Their gazes met as he took his time. Now that he could see the effect, he savored the slow darkening of her eyes. Her gaze followed his fingers, then his shoulders, as he drew off the coat and laid it across the back of the sofa. The fabric slid against the upholstery. Her throat moved as she swallowed, and a hot satisfaction curled through him. “Will that satisfy you?”

“For the moment,” she said softly. He liked the husky, low way she said it. He liked it enough to step closer, until he could feel her warmth.

“Shall we play again?” he asked.

Amelia lifted the ribbon between them, letting it dangle from her fingers as the black silk swayed. “This time,” she said, “I should like to know what you intend to do if you catch me.”

Dominic glanced at the silk, then at the bare curve of her shoulder, the soft skin gleaming in the firelight, and desire rose in him, tender and fierce. “I believe we agreed upon a kiss.”

“One kiss,” she said.

He nodded. “Yes.”

She tipped her head, exposing the place he had chosen; the pale column of her throat offered like a gift. “Then you had better make it a very good one.”

He took the ribbon from her hand, unable to stop smiling, his heart beating a slow, steady rhythm. This time, he intended to earn his forfeit.

Four

Amelia hadn't expected that seeing him without his coat would be so distracting… Dominic stood before her in nothing but an embroidered waistcoat and shirtsleeves. The ribbon rested between his fingers, loose and a little rumpled. He had given up all pretense of formality. His shoulders seemed broader now. His arms moved beneath the fine linen; the shift and flex of muscle as he turned the silk over made her mouth go slightly dry. What else might she persuade him to remove before the evening ended?

She had come intending to enjoy whatever he arranged. She had not anticipated how much pleasure there would be in watching him lose, or how warm it would make her. “You appear remarkably pleased with yourself,” he said, a smile tugging at his mouth.

“I have won,” she said lightly.

“One round.” He grinned. “I intend to win the next.”

“I would say my win is only the beginning.” Amelia took the ribbon from him, letting her fingers trail against his, and moved behind his shoulder. “You can concede now and save yourself the embarrassment.”

“I will do no such thing. As I mentioned, I intend to win,” he said. “I had hoped you might offer a more agreeable sort of comfort.”

She drew the silk across his eyes, brushing her fingertips along his temple and feeling the faint warmth of his skin. “Catch me, and perhaps I shall.”

His breath deepened, a slow, audible pull. She felt a small, shameless delight at the sound. A flutter of triumph, then she tied the ends behind his head, careful not to catch his hair. The dark strands curled over her knuckles, soft and slightly springy. He stood still beneath her hands, trusting her to do it properly. He kept his hands loose at his sides. That pleased her too, more than she wanted to admit, a tender warmth settling in her chest.

Before she stepped away, she rested her fingers briefly at his nape. His skin was warm and the hair fine as down. Dominic did not move, but his shoulders changed beneath the touch. A faint tension gathered through them. Amelia let her hand fall, her fingertips tingling. She could grow accustomed to this. That was becoming a troublesome thought, and she tucked it away with a small, unsteady breath.

“Have we begun?” he asked.

“Not yet,” she said.

“And to fail this time?”

She traveled her gaze over the back of his waistcoat. The embroidery was delicate, dark leaves curled along the edge of the fabric, and the stitches were fine and even. She had admired it when he entered her drawing room, though she had been rather more occupied with his cravat. She followed the line of his spine with a hot gaze. Then to the dip of his waist, and a slow heat unfurled low in her stomach. Now she considered the small buttons down its front, and her fingers itched. “Your waistcoat.” She licked her lips. “I want it.” Perhaps she was trying to slowly undress him…

He turned his head toward her voice, his lips curving. “I begin to suspect you have wicked desires.”

“You invited me,” she said in a wanton tone. “Surely you anticipated that I might enjoy myself.”

“I hoped for it,” he admitted. “I had not appreciated how thoroughly.”