On a Wild Night (Cynster 8)

She swung back to face him. "Three hours?"

"Three hours, to be spent by my side"-Connor waved magnanimously-"in whatever surroundings you choose." The last

phrase was delivered with an intense leer.

He was laughing at her. If she ran away, everyone would laugh at her.

She'd laugh derisively at herself.

Amanda lifted her chin. "My time is exceedingly valuable."

Connor's lip curled. "You don't say?"

"But I daresay this mare of yours is valuable, too." Her heart was thumping. She smiled condescendingly. "Well, she must be if Demon was interested." She brightened. "If I win, I'll give her to him."

He'd wring her neck.

Reggie's groan was audible. Amanda smiled into Connor's pale eyes. "A rubber of whist, I believe you said?"

She'd finally stepped over the line into real danger. Even as she said the words, even as she registered the hardening in Connor's eyes, Amanda felt a thrill beyond anything she'd ever known. Anticipation laced with dread flowed through her; exhilaration drove her. "Your partner?" She looked inquiringly at Connor.

Expressionless, he waved back into the gloom. "Meredith.''

A thin gentleman rose from an armchair and stiffly bowed.

"He says little but has an excellent head for cards." Connor's gaze traveled to Reggie. "And who will partner you. Miss Cynster? Carmarthen, here?"

"No." Reggie's tone declared he'd drawn a line and would not be tempted over it. He shook Amanda's arm. "This is madness! Come away now! What do you care what such hellions think of you?"

She did care-therein lay the rub. She couldn't explain it. yet she couldn't imagine any of her cousins walking away from Connor's thinly veiled insults. Not before they'd exacted retribution.

His Arab mare sounded like just the right amount of retribution. And if she lost, she'd take great delight in stipulating just where she would spend her three hours at his side. Retribution indeed. That would teach him to make game of Cynster ladies, however young.

But first she had to find a partner, preferably one who would help her win. She didn't waste a second persuading Reggie-he could barely remember the suits. Smiling reassuringly, trying to ease his concern, she turned to survey the tables at which all activity had ceased.

There had to be some gentleman willing to come to her aid…

Her heart plummeted. There was no lighthearted interest, none of the game-to-be-part-of-any-lark expressions she'd expected to see. Calculation, raw and undisguised, filled every man's eyes. The equation they were weighing was easy to grasp: How much would she give to be rescued from Connor?

One glance was enough. To them she was a succulent, innocent pigeon ripe for a plucking. Exhilaration deserted her; a deadening, sinking feeling dragged at her.

Given the precise words of their wager, she was confident she had Connor's measure, but if, in order to satisfy her pride, she took one of these men as her partner, where would that leave her at the end of the game?

Triumphant regardless of the outcome, but with another, possibly more dangerous debt hanging over her head.

She met eye after eye; her heart sank to her slippers. Surely there was one gentleman honorable enough to partner her purely for the hell of it?

Smiles slowly dawned; chairs scraped. A number of gentlemen stood…

It would have to be Reggie, no matter how much she had to plead.

As she turned to him, the attention of the gentlemen facing them was deflected, caught by some sight in the shadows behind them, deeper in the room.

Both she and Reggie turned.

Something large stirred in the gloom.

A dark shape rose from a chair at the end of the room-a man, broad-shouldered and tall. With a languid grace all the more compelling, given his size, he walked unhurriedly toward them.