A Most Sinful Proposal (The Husband Hunters Club 2)

“Shall we call them interested spectators?” His blue eyes warmed as he watched her attempting to understand. “Perhaps you will better comprehend if I tell you that the night I visited the club there was a game going on between a gentleman and a lady. They were both masked and she was wearing a dress cut so low I found myself holding my breath in the fear—or should I say the hope?—that her bosom would tumble out of it.”

Marissa raised an eyebrow. “So the gentleman and lady were in the room and the rest of you were watching them. What exactly were they doing?”

“They were throwing dice.”

“That sounds innocent enough.”

“Ah, but whoever lost had to remove an item of clothing.” He grinned at the memory. “The spectators were agog, the tension was palpable, and yet the two of them acted as if they were entirely alone even though they must have known they weren’t.”

“Whoever lost the throw of the dice had to remove an item?” she said slowly. “Did they end up, eh, naked?”

His reminiscent smile grew wicked. “Oh yes.”

Marissa waited for him to elaborate and when he didn’t she asked with an impatient note, “And then what happened?”

Valentine made her wait a moment more. “Not what we hoped. He lifted her up in his arms and carried her into a farther room, unfortunately one without windows, and shut the door.”

Marissa imagined the scene; she’d discovered she had a rather vivid imagination when it came to risqué detail. The idea of undressing, slowly, in front of dozens of watching eyes should have horrified her, and indeed if it was actually happening she was sure she would hate it, but to pretend was different. She pictured the room, Valentine and herself opposite each other, the atmosphere tense with expectation and the knowledge that soon they would consummate their growing desire. Consummate it fully and completely, as they were yet to do….

His fingers brushed her cheek, breaking the spell. “What are you thinking, minx?”

“I am wondering why you are telling me this story. And why,” she looked down at the dice he was rolling in his hand, “you have those dice.”

“Come, come, Marissa, you know why.”

“And this is the game you wish to play?”

“This is the game I wish to play with you.”

She glanced toward the door.

“I locked it,” he said promptly, “and left instructions we are not to be disturbed.”

“My grandmother and Lord Jasper?”

“Gone to bed, I am told, also with instructions not to be disturbed.”

“And George?”

“Not back yet. No doubt he is enjoying rubbing shoulders with the Magna Midcombe folk and partaking of the local ale. Don’t worry about George.”

Marissa gave a little shiver, a frisson of excitement, and rose to her feet. She approached the small card table where Valentine was waiting and allowed him to draw out a chair for her, calmly arranging her skirts about her as she sat.

“Is this part of your promise to show me about pleasure?” she said, clasping her hands before her and watching his face.

But instead of answering her he said, “Here are the rules. There must be no touching, not until the game is over.”

“No touching?” she cried, unable to keep the disappointment out of her voice. For Marissa, the act of touching his skin was a pleasure in itself.

He smiled and threw the dice. They landed on four and two. “Now your turn,” he said softly, gathering them up again and handing them to her.

Marissa held the dice tight in her hand, feeling the excitement growing inside her. She couldn’t decide whether she wanted to win or lose, but when she threw and the numbers were revealed—a three and a two—her disappointment made her realize what her true wishes were.

“I lost,” she said, raising her eyes questioningly to his.

His triumphant smile made her shiver again. “And I won.”

“Does that mean I—”