A Stranger's Gamble (Lords of Chance Book 3)

by Tarah Scott

  She stilled. He removed his hand from her mouth, and she was suddenly aware of the hard length that dug into her abdomen and—

  “You are not wearing any clothes,” she hissed.

  He clamped his hand over her mouth again. “That is what married people do, if you recall,” he whispered.

  She did remember, though she didn’t remember a man’s naked body being so heavy or so hard, and his…desire was more persistent than had been Matthew’s.

  Sophie caught sight of a figure through the curtains around the bed. She yanked her gaze back to Adam. He nodded. Then he kissed her. Her head spun. This kiss wasn’t soft as had been the one when the minister pronounced them man and wife. His weight pressed her into the mattress in a way that made her want to wrap her legs around his waist and rub her mons against his erection.

  Over the thud of her heart pounding in her ears, she discerned the light rattle of teacups and realized the maid who’d entered their room had set a tray on the table. She wanted to tell Adam he could stop—should stop—kissing her, but she didn’t want him to stop. Sophie broke the kiss and turned her head aside. He nuzzled her neck, and the juncture between her legs tightened. The maid had halted and was staring at them. Heat suffused Sophie’s cheeks. Not because she was embarrassed.

  “It is impolite to stare,” Sophie said.

  The maid gasped and fled the room.

  Sophie pushed at Adam, and he slid off her onto the mattress. She caught sight of his erection, thick, straight, and far more masculine than anything she’d ever seen.

  She yanked her gaze away to his face. He arched a brow. Sophie shoved at him. He chuckled, then his expression sobered. He drew back the curtain and jumped from the bed. Sophie got a wonderful view of his rounded backside. Matthew had been a nice-looking man, but Adam was a sculpted god.

  “We have coffee and pastries,” Adam said.

  Sophie started to get up, then remembered the thin nightgown she wore. She fished the sheet from the tangled bedcovers and wrapped it around her like a towel. She stepped from the bed, and Adam looked up from the coffee he was pouring into one of the cups. He had put on the robe he’d worn last night.

  He ran his gaze down her body, then straightened. He regarded her, expression serious, and she forced herself not to squirm under his scrutiny. He set the coffee pot down, then crossed to her. Sophie drew back when he reached for her. He lifted a brow in clear challenge, and she lifted her chin in response. Amusement sparked in his eyes, and she was surprised when he threaded his fingers in her hair. She braced for him to pull her against him. Instead, he mussed her hair, then pulled his fingers free.

  He gave a slow nod. “Now you look like a woman who made love all night.”

  She flushed. He returned to the table and filled the second cup with coffee.

  He picked up one of the pastries and took a big bite. “These are delicious. How do you take your coffee?”

  “Cream and one sugar,” she said. “I want answers.”

  He took another bite and nodded. “After we leave.”

  Sophie opened her mouth to argue, but he shoved the last of his pastry into his mouth and shook his head. It wasn’t his refusal that stopped her, but the look in his eyes that told her danger was close.

  “Please sit.” He indicated a chair at the table. “You will feel better after you have eaten.”

  She acquiesced and had to admit that after coffee and a pastry she did feel refreshed. The clock on the mantle chimed the nine o’clock hour, and Sophie had just begun to wonder how long they would have to wait for their clothes when a knock sounded on the door, and a maid entered with their clothes washed and pressed. She placed them on the bed, then curtsied and left.

  Sophie sipped her coffee, then set the cup on its saucer. “I know this house.”

  Adam’s head snapped in her direction.

  “When I was young, my father used to bring me and my mother to Edinburgh every year,” she said. “I had a friend who lived in this house. Her stepfather sent her away to school in France. I haven’t heard from her in years.”

  “What was her name?” Adam asked in a low voice that gave her pause.

  “Imogen Rose.”

  “Balfour’s sister,” he said.

  “His sister? That horrid man is her brother?”

  “Stepbrother. I’ve never met the girl, but I hear he keeps a close watch on her.”

  “She’s here?” Sophie demanded.

  “Aye.”

  “I had no idea.” It hadn’t even occurred to her to see if Imogen was in Edinburgh.

  “We used to play on the estate,” Sophie said. “When she went away to France, I assumed she simply became too busy to write.” Sophie met his gaze. “She told me her stepfather sent her away to school.”

  “That would have been Balfour’s father,” Adam replied.

  “I should see if she is here. I can ask Mr. Balfour—”

  “Nae,” he interrupted. “I ask you to leave the matter to me.” Before she could reply, he instructed her to dress, then excused himself to the ante room.

  Fifteen minutes later, a maid showed them to the breakfast room where Mr. Balfour was sat at the breakfast table.

  He looked up as they entered. “Please, have a seat. I made sure to have plenty for breakfast this morning.”

  “I can stay,” Adam said. “You and I have business, I believe. Sophie will go home.”

  “Our business will have to wait,” Mr. Balfour said. “I am leaving in ten minutes.”

  “I can ride with you,” Adam said.

  He shook his head. “We can meet this evening, say seven?”

  Adam angled his head in acknowledgement. “Of course.”

  “I have begun preparations for your wedding celebration,” Mr. Balfour said.

  “There is no need, sir,” Sophie said.

  He shook his head. “It’s no trouble.” He took a sip of coffee then stood. “I have a carriage waiting outside to take you home. You really should have some breakfast first, though. Cook outdid herself.” He looked at Adam. “I will see you tonight, Monthemer.”

  Adam nodded and Balfour left.

  “Would you like some breakfast?” Adam asked.

  “I do not want to spend another minute in this house,” she said, though she did wish she could ask after Imogen.

  Adam gave a slight bow. “I do not blame you.”

  The footman waiting outside the room escorted them to the front door. Adam grasped her hand and helped her inside the waiting carriage, then vaulted in after her and too the seat opposite her.

  The vehicle lurched into motion, and Sophie suddenly felt certain she was walking in a dream. No, a nightmare. Adam—the Marquess of Monthemer—sat across from her in the carriage as casual as could be. She would again accuse him of trapping her into marriage—if the situation weren’t so outlandish. It simply was beyond comprehension that anyone could have planned this…situation. Of course, he had no idea she would be so foolhardy as to follow him from Mrs. Eldridge’s home. Lord, she could scarce believe she’d done it.

  What would her father say? He wanted her to marry—that part would please him. He wouldn’t, however, be pleased at how she accomplished the matter. She would like to think that because she was now married that her father would have nothing to say. She knew better. Not to mention, she had no intention of staying married.

  “What is going on?” she demanded.

  He met her gaze. “What happened is that you expedited our marriage.”

  Sophie narrowed her eyes. “You and Mr. Balfour are engaged in illegal activities.”

  Poor Imogen.

  Adam hesitated, and her heart fell. She’d had some small hope there was a good explanation for his actions.

  “As I told you last night, I am working for the Crown,” he said.

  That was too on the nose. “I am not so gullible as to believe that.”

  He shrugged. “It is the truth. But you are to keep that to yourself. If word reache
s Balfour, we are both dead.”

  “A fine way to keep me from asking questions,” she retorted. “I shall begin annulment proceedings immediately.”

  “That will get us both killed.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “Besides, your father will never allow it.”

  She tossed her head. “He cannot stop me.”

  “I feel certain he can.”

  “You just want my money.”

  “Your father’s money. Yes, there is that,” he said in a thoughtful voice. “But please keep in mind it was you who followed me to Balfour’s, which is what facilitated the current circumstances.”

  She stomped her foot. “You lied to me.”

  “Just as you lied to me.”

  “Yes, but I did that to protect myself. You lied to use me.”

  “Not at first,” he said.

  Sophie frowned. “You are talking in circles.”

  “You may recall I met you while you were riding—and wearing breeches. That was enough to tell me what a hoyden you are.”

  She scoffed. “You care little for any of that. You only care for my money.”

  “Your father’s money,” he said, again.

  “I will come into my money in two years—which, by the by, you may not have.”

  He angled his head in ascent. “I wouldn’t dream of touching your money.”

  They road in silence and when they neared her aunt’s townhouse, Sophie wished mightily she were anywhere else but here. It was too much to hope that her father would be away. The carriage halted, and Adam opened the door as her aunt’s front door burst open, and Aunt Maddie hurried down the four front steps, Sophie’s father close behind.

  Adam took Sophie’s hand and helped her from the carriage as Aunt Maddie arrived. She pulled Sophie into a hug Sophie thought would strangle her.

  “Oh, we were so worried,” her aunt said. “If you and marquess decided to elope, why did you not at least send a note?” Sophie opened her mouth to reply, but Maddie cut her off. “It is not as if your father would have tried to stop you.”

  “We—”

  “Do not ever do that again,” Maddie scolded.

  This time, Sophie waited to see if her aunt intended to continue her scolding.

  “I assume you have a good reason for whisking my daughter away without so much as a by your leave?” Sophie’s father asked Adam.

  “I do, sir. Though the reason may not be quite what you expect.”

  “Sophie!” her aunt exclaimed. “Never say you let him ravish you without getting married.”

  Sophie flushed.

  “Oh Lord.” Maddie shook her head. She whirled on Adam. “Do not think that because she isn’t a virgin that you will get away with not marrying her.”

  Adam threw up his hands, palms out. “Never fear, ma’am. We are married.”

  “But not for long,” Sophie said.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Sophie calmly confessed everything to her father and aunt.

  “You are damned lucky he didn’t kill you,” her father muttered.

  He was angry, but Sophie read the fear in his eyes. “I am sorry,” she said.

  He gave her a curt nod and instructed Adam to follow him into the study. Sophie and her aunt were to wait here for them. Sophie resisted the urge to argue.

  Beatrice entered the parlor five minutes later. Sophie glimpsed the moisture in her eyes and jumped to her feet and raced to her.

  They threw their arms around each other, and Beatrice said, “I was terribly worried, miss.”

  “I know.” Sophie drew back. “I was beastly to run off like that.”

  “And now you are married,” Beatrice said.

  Sophie sighed. “For the moment.”

  She grasped Beatrice’s hand and pulled her to the sofa. They sat, and Sophie poured Beatrice some tea from the pot sitting on the coffee table. Beatrice drank and they sat in silence for half an hour before Sophie told her aunt, “I have no intention of remaining married to the marquess.”

  Maddie regarded her for a long moment. “You were perfectly willing to marry him when you didn’t know he was the marquess. We both know that man is not a criminal, Sophie.”

  “You would not say that if you would’ve heard him speaking with Mr. Balfour.”

  Her aunt nodded. “There are, indeed, rumors about Mr. Balfour. But the marquess explained that he is working for the Crown.”

  “How can we possibly believe such an outlandish story? Matthew had many outlandish stories. I will never again be foolish enough to believe such a ridiculous tale.”

  Aunt Maddie’s expression softened. “Does Lord Monthemer seem anything like your dead husband?”

  Sophie gave a mirthless laugh. “Nae, but that does not mean he isn’t just as bad. Think, Aunt Maddie, how many men truly work for the Crown?”

  “Not many, I am sure. You needn’t worry, though. Your father will get to the bottom of this.” A sparkle lit her eyes. “And I am not without my own connections.”

  “I am certain your father will make sure Lord Monthemer is honest,” Beatrice said.

  Sophie started to reply, then didn’t when bootfalls approached down the hallway. The men had finished their business and were now on their way to inform the women—her in particular—of their decisions. Sophie jumped up and hurried to the bookshelves. She pulled a book from the shelf, then raced back to the sofa and dropped onto the cushion. She yanked the book open two seconds before they entered. Then she looked up with what she hoped was the most placid expression in existence.

  Adam’s eyes caught on Beatrice and narrowed. Sophie remembered when she’d heard his voice in Lady Ella’s garden maze. Oh Lord, he had met Beatrice when she had been pretending to be Sophie. Lord Blair had been there, as well. Her father had done some business with Lord Blair. Hadn’t she been introduced to him at some party? Why hadn’t he said something when Beatrice introduced herself as Sophie? Oh! The odious men. Lord Blair hadn’t said anything because they already knew Sophie wasn’t Beatrice. He and Adam had both known!

  When she and Adam had danced at Lady Seafield’s party, and when she’d been in the carriage with Lord Emerson, Adam had known who she was. That explained why Lord Monthemer had signed the marriage agreement in the wee hours of the morning.

  Sophie locked gazes with Adam and tensed in readiness for him to tell her father that she had pretended to be Beatrice—and that Beatrice had pretended to be her. Perhaps Adam had already told her father. Fear welled up in her. Her father would immediately dismiss Beatrice. Determination shot through Sophie. She would take Beatrice with her to Adam’s household. But she didn’t plan on staying married to him. If her father dismissed Beatrice, Sophie would leave with her.

  Adam crossed the room and seated himself on the couch to Sophie’s left while her father remained paced. Sophie’s heart pounded, but she kept her attention on her father.

  “I have sent notices to the papers with the announcement of your marriage to Lord Monthemer,” he said.

  Sophie gasped.

  He halted and looked at her. “Did you expect otherwise?

  “I was very clear that I intend to annul the marriage,” she replied stiffly.

  “Sophie, you left Mrs. Eldridge’s party unescorted and followed a man to another man’s home at night. There was never any question that your marriage to Lord Monthemer would remain intact.”

  “I am no virgin, Father. I am a widow and am allowed my dalliances.”

  “Then you should never have agreed to the annulment from Matthew.”

  “Agreed?” she whispered. “You insisted on the annulment. You—you did that on purpose. This was your plan all along.”

  “You give me too much credit,” he replied. “My plan was to protect you from Matthew’s family.”

  “Lot of good that did,” she muttered, though she knew she was being melodramatic. The annulment had curtailed their demands for money and attention.

  “Society understands that
you have no connection with Matthew’s family,” her father said.

  “Invergarry’s society.”

  “Not just Invergarry,” he said.

  “I care nothing for Society,” she said.

  “That much is clear,” he replied in a harsh voice. “You ran off last night with the intention of marrying Lord Monthemer.”

  “I ran off with the intention of marrying Mr. Adam MacAlister!”

  “They are the same man,” he said. “You cannot suddenly decide you do not like what you got.”

  Sophie shifted her gaze to Adam. “Lord Monthemer is involved in criminal activities.”

  “Lord Monthemer is working for the Crown,” her father said.

  Sophie frowned. “You are not so naïve as to believe that?”

  “I have no reason to believe otherwise, but we will soon have confirmation.”

  “I am agog to learn the truth,” she said with mock sweetness. “Until then, I will remain here at Aunt Maddie’s.”

  “I wouldn’t think of forcing you to leave the safety of your aunt’s home,” Adam replied.

  She scowled. “This is a trick.”

  “A trick?” he repeated. “You do not wish to stay at my lodgings here in Edinburgh, and I am obliging.”

  “Lodgings?” She nodded slowly. “You do not own a home in Edinburgh.”

  “Not anymore,” he said.

  Sophie looked at her father. “How can you allow a man who doesn’t even own a home to marry your daughter?”

  “Lord Monthemer owns a home, just not in Edinburgh,” he said.

  “Where?” she asked warily.

  “Inverness,” Adam replied.

  “Is this “home” a summer cottage?”

  “Nae.”

  “A townhouse?”

  “Nae.”

  “An estate?” she asked.

  Adam regarded her. “Forgive me, my lady”—she winced at the address—“what difference does it make? I thought you cared nothing for money.”

  “I do not care if a man has money—but when a man marries me for money, I want to know if he plans to leave me in squalor while he lives in luxury.”

  Adam gave her a smile she felt certain had dazzled many a lady. “Rest easy, my dear. I have no intention of doing either.”