by Cara Elliott
With an inward frown, she shook off the unwelcome sensation and quickly shifted the pawn out of danger. “It’s easy to see why if you look three moves ahead.”
“Strategy,” murmured the gentleman. “You seem to have”—a tiny cough—“a good grasp of the game’s strategy,” he went on as she picked up the whirling dervish bishop by its phallus and placed it aside.
“Do you think that ladies are incapable of conceiving a plan of attack that requires thinking three or four steps ahead?” She knew the answer of course. Most men were predictable in their prejudices, assuming the fairer sex had naught but feathers for brains.
Which made his reply all the more unexpected.
“I have a sister,” he said slowly. “So I am acutely aware of how sharp the female mind can be.” A rumbled chuckle softened his solemn expression for just an instant. “Indeed, their skill at riding roughshod over an enemy’s defenses put the efficiency of many of my fellow officers to the blush.”
He is a military man?
That explained the ramrod straightness of his spine, the hint of muscled hardness beneath the finely tailored evening clothes, the tiny scar on the cleft of his chin.
The unmistakable impression of steely strength.
She made herself shift her gaze from the intriguing little nick. “So, you are a soldier, sir?”
“A former soldier,” he corrected. “Duties here at home made it imperative for me to resign my commission in Wellington’s forces and come back to England from the Peninsula.”
Olivia returned her attention to the chessboard, but not before muttering under her breath, “There are plenty of important battles to be fought on our own soil.”
“I beg your pardon?”
She repeated what she had said in a louder voice.
His eyes narrowed—in censure, no doubt.
That was hardly a surprise, thought Olivia bitterly. Ladies weren’t supposed to have opinions about anything meaningful. Especially if they were one of the three poor-as-a-churchmouse Sloane sisters.
Of course that did not stop her from saying what she thought. It didn’t matter that Society dismissed her as a rag-mannered hellion, tolerated only because of the beauty and charm of her younger sister. She could take a measure of inward satisfaction in knowing there were far more effective ways of being heard…
Clearing her throat with an exaggerated cough, she added, “If you must blow a cloud, sir, might you do it on the other side of the room?” She had come here for the express reason of avoiding the other guests. With any luck, he would take the hint and go away.
“I beg your pardon,” he repeated, quickly stubbing out the offending cheroot. “Had I known there was a lady present, I would not have been so ill-mannered as to indulge in a smoke.”
Olivia gave a brusque wave without looking up. “Apology accepted, sir.” Hoping that silence would help to encourage a quick retreat, she propped her elbows on the table and continued to study the position of the remaining chess pieces.
The gentleman didn’t budge.
Repressing a huff of impatience, Olivia pushed the last ivory pawn forward with a touch more force than was necessary. It slid over the smooth marble tiles and collided head-on with its ebony counterpart. With a soft snick, the two erections hit up against each other.
A glint of emotion seemed to hang for an instant on the fire-sparked tips of his dark lashes. But surely she must be mistaken—it was only a quirk of the candlelight that made it appear to be amusement.
In her experience, military officers were not wont to display any sense of humor.
“Madam,” he murmured, after another moment of regarding the board with a hooded stare.
“Miss,” she corrected.
A frown fitted across his face, but after a tiny hesitation he continued, “I concede that you seem conversant in the concept of chess. But this evening, perhaps, er, playing cards would be a more appropriate choice of entertainment.”
“I loathe cards,” said Olivia. “They require such little mental effort. Chess is far more cerebral.”
“Indeed. However, in this particular case, it is the, er, physical aspect of the game that is cause for concern—”
“Why?” she interrupted. “Seeing as chess is considered by many to be a metaphor for war, it seems singularly appropriate that male figures display their swords.” A pause. “Sword is a euphemism that you gentlemen use to refer to your sex organ, is it not?”
His bronzed face seemed to turn distinctly redder in the uncertain candlelight.
Good—I’ve truly shocked him.
Now perhaps he would go away, thought Olivia, quickly moving one of her pawns to another square. She had been deliberately outrageous in hopes of scaring him off. His presence—that tall, quiet pillar of unflinching steel—was having a strangely unsettling effect on her concentration.
“You might want to reconsider that particular strategy.” To her dismay, the gentleman slid into the seat across from her and took charge of the ebony army.
The faint scent of his spicy cologne floated across the narrow space between them, and as he leaned forward for a closer survey of the board, the candle flame flickered, its red-gold fire catching for an instant on the tips of his dark lashes.
Breathe, she told herself. It was the exotic smoke that was making her a little woozy.
“If I move here,” he pointed out, “you are in danger.”
His words stirred a prickling sensation at the nape of her neck, as if daggerpoints were teasing against her flesh.
In and out, in and out. Olivia forced her lungs to obey her silent order as she studied the positions of the pieces. The blood was thrumming in her ears, and for one, mad, mercurial moment, she feared she might swoon.
No—only feather-brained gooseberries swooned. And of all the derogatory comments she had heard whispered behind her back, nobody had ever called her an idiot.
“True,” she replied to him.
The sudden scuffling of approaching footsteps in the corridor prevented him from making a reply.
Damnation. Fisting her skirts, Olivia shot up from the table, belatedly realizing that she had put herself on the razor’s edge of ruin.
Damn, damn, damn.
The rules of Society strictly forbid an unmarried lady from being alone in a room with a gentleman. Her name would be blackened, her reputation would be ripped beyond repair.
Ye gods, if I am to be sunk in scandal, at least let it be for the right reason, she thought, quickly whirling around and moving for the narrow connecting portal set in the recessed alcove.
Clicking open the latch, she darted into the welcoming darkness of the adjoining room.
John watched as the lady flitted away in a swirling of shadows, smoke, and indigo silk.
Who the devil is she?
It had been too dark, too hazy for him to make out more than a vague impression of her face. Arched brows. Slanted cheekbones. A full mouth. And an errant curl of unruly hair—it looked dark as a raven-wing, but he couldn’t be sure of the exact color—teasing against the curve of her jaw.
The lady’s voice had been the only distinctive feature. Slightly husky, slightly rough, the sound of it had rubbed against his skin with a heat-sparked friction.
He frowned, feeling a lick of fire skate down his spine and spiral toward his…sword.
Good Lord, had the lady really uttered such an utterly outrageous observation? He wasn’t sure whether he felt indignant or intrigued by her outspoken candor.
“No, no, definitely not intrigued,” muttered John aloud. He shifted in his seat, willing his body to unclench.
Everyone—including himself—knew that the Earl of Wrexham was, if not a perfect hero, a perfect gentleman. He respected rules and regulations. There were good reasons for them—they provided the basis for order and stability within Polite Society.
Don’t think. Don’t wonder. Don’t speculate.
No matter that the blaze of fierce intelligence in her eyes h
ad lit his curiosity.
Granted, she might be clever, he conceded. But a lady who flaunted convention was his exact opposite. And like oil and water, opposites never mixed well.
“John? John?”
It was his sister calling. The muted echo of his name was followed by a tentative rapping on the study’s oak-paneled door. “Are you in there?”
Women.
At the moment, he would rather be pursued by Attila the Hun and his savage horde of warriors.
The latch clicked.
Deciding that he had had enough uncomfortable encounters with the opposite sex for one night, the earl hesitated, and then, like the mysterious Mistress of the Exotic Chessboard, he spun around and made a hasty retreat.
Get swept away to Regency London with these other titles from Cara Elliott.
Can a Flame from the Past Be Rekindled?
Long ago, Sophie Lawrance chose prudence over passion, rejecting a rebellious young rogue for the sake of her family—no matter the ache it left in her heart. But after a specter from her father’s past resurfaces, threatening to destroy all she holds dear, the desperate beauty knows there is only one man whose shadowy skills can save her.
Or Is It Too Dangerous to Play with Fire?
Cameron Daggett is a man of many secrets…and many sins. He’s never forgotten the pain of losing Sophie. But now, with a chance to win her back, Cameron sets aside his anger and agrees to help Sophie save her father’s honor. Together they embark on a perilous masquerade, leading them to a remote country estate near the sea. There, they must battle a cunning adversary—and their own burning desires. Will they be consumed by the flames? Or can they prove that true love conquers all?
In the Wolf’s Lair…
Determined to stop her wayward brother from squandering their dwindling fortune, Lady Eliza Brentford decides to follow him to his favorite den of depravity. There, among the candlelight and raucous revelry, she encounters her brother’s role model in debauchery, the notorious Marquess of Haddan, Gryffin Dwight. Staring into his smoldering green eyes, Eliza can’t help but find the rakehell nobleman seductively charming—and sinfully attractive.
In a Lover’s Paradise…
When Gryffin appears on Eliza’s estate as a guest of her brother, a stolen kiss among the garden’s blooms leads to a night of unbridled passion. Suddenly the lovely widow feels herself opening up, like the petals of a rose. Could this master of seduction possibly feel true emotion for Eliza? Or is he leading her down the garden path to an Eden of delights no woman can resist—and a fall no woman can escape?
Outspoken and independent, Lady Alexa Bingham enjoys the heady freedom of making all her own decisions, even though the challenges of overseeing her family’s country estate are daunting. But when a chance encounter with London’s most notorious rake awakens a secret longing for adventure, she accepts her aunt’s invitation for a Season in Town…only to find that breaking the rules of the ton has serious consequences.
The Earl of Killingworth uses his rakehell reputation to hide the fact that poverty has forced him to work for a living. As the owner of a gambling den and brothel, Connor has no time for glittering ballrooms or innocent young ladies. But after a reckless wager leaves him with a new business partner, he is forced to take a risky gamble…Will the cards fall in their favor? Alexa and Connor begin to play a dangerous game of intrigue and deception as they seek to outwit a cunning adversary who wants to put them permanently out of business. But if they are not careful, it is the flames of their own fiery attraction that may destroy them.
Also by Cara Elliott
Circle of Sin Series
To Sin with a Scoundrel
To Surrender to a Rogue
To Tempt a Rake
Lords of Midnight Series
Too Wicked to Wed
Too Tempting to Resist
Too Dangerous to Desire
The Hellions of High Street Series
Scandalously Yours
Praise for Cara Elliott
“Cara Elliott is an author to watch in the historical romance genre…Too Wicked to Wed is a wickedly romantic read and comes highly recommended. I will be singing Ms. Elliott’s praises for some time to come.”
—Romance Junkies
“A really good romantic read filled with a good deal of mystery and danger as well. Cara Elliott knows how to write!”
—Romance Reviews
Praise for To Surrender to a Rogue
“…an astoundingly fresh, sexy historical…Witty dialogue…vivid settings…fast-paced and very believable.”
—wewriteromance.com, Zara B.
“Elliott’s ability to merge adventure, romance and an intriguing historical backdrop will captivate her readers and earn their accolades.”
—Historical Romance Reviews, www.rtbookreviews.com, Kathe Robin
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Contents
Title Page
Welcome
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Acknowledgments
About the Author
A Preview of Passionately Yours
A Preview of Scandalously Yours
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Also by Cara Elliott
Praise for Cara Elliott
Newsletters
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 by Andrea DaRif
Excerpt from Passionately Yours copyright © 2014 by Andrea DaRif
Excerpt from Scandalously Yours copyright © 2014 by Andrea DaRif
Cover design by Elizabeth Turner.
Cover illustration by Juliana Kolesova.
Cover copyright © 2014 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
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ISBN 978-1-4555-7325-7
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