Wagering for Miss Blake

by Callie Hutton

  She startled. “There was a monkey on the table?”

  Giles groaned. “No, Suzanna. There was a picture of a monkey. Although I guess it could also have been the letter P for picture. But that was your letter, what do you have for P?”

  “P?”

  “Yes. The letter that comes after O.”

  The man was making her feel like her governess had years ago. She’d been a bit slow to catch on to reading, and her knuckles had been smacked a few times for writing her letters backward, although they hadn’t looked backward to her.

  “Oh, yes. I remember. There was a plate.”

  “Good. What else do we have?”

  “Um, let’s see. There was a napkin, toast…”

  “Yes, go on.”

  “I’m thinking. You’re making me very nervous just staring at me with your pencil poised just so.”

  “We have about another five minutes, and then I will collect the papers. Be sure to put your and your partner’s name on top.” Lady Honora stood next to the table which had now been recovered as she gave her instructions.

  “What else?” Giles asked.

  She closed her eyes, trying to remember. “Um, salt. Yes, there was salt. And…toast!”

  “We have toast already.”

  “Oh.” She narrowed her eyes. “Stop looking at me like that.”

  He grinned. “Like what?”

  “Like you think if I am unable to remember as well as you, that I am some sort of muddlehead.”

  “I wonder if there is any particular reason you feel muddleheaded?” He grinned. The pompous man thought it was his nearness. Never would she admit such a thing to him. He was already too overconfident, and the way the other ladies in the carriage on the way to the village had spoken about him, he probably had women falling at his feet all the time.

  Not her.

  “I am not muddleheaded, I just need time to recall everything I saw on the table.” It was bad enough that he twisted her insides just by being near, but he also tangled up her words and thoughts.

  “I can help.” He paused and leaned forward. “I can help with a great deal of things where you are concerned.”

  Oh, how she wanted to slap that smug look off his handsome face. “You are purposely trying to confuse me, and if it is your intention to win this game, we should concentrate on finishing up.”

  “You’re right.” He glanced again at the paper and began to write. “How about if we add orange, quizzing glass, rice, salver, umbrella, violin, water, xylographer, yellow scarf—which could also be for the letter S—and zero.”

  Her jaw dropped, a very unladylike pose. “What’s a xylographer?”

  “A wood engraver.” His head down, Giles continued to write in all the items he’d mentioned.

  “You were also doing my letters.” Lord, she sounded like a pouting child. Was there nothing the man couldn’t do? “How do you know there was a zero?”

  He looked up at her. “There was a piece of paper with a zero written on it.”

  “Oh. Yes. I remember that.” She looked at his raised eyebrows. “I do remember it. You rattled off these things so quickly, you didn’t give me a chance to say them.”

  “Ah. And you remembered them all, I assume?”

  Indeed, a good slap to his arrogant face would be quite satisfying. She sighed and smoothed her gown. “All right. I will admit it. You did much better than I. How did you do that?”

  Giles shrugged. “I’ve always had that type of mind. I can see something and it’s like my mind makes a quick drawing of it, so when I need to remember it, there it is.”

  “You must have done quite well in school.” She had to give her grudging admiration for his ability to remember things. Now if only he would forget his intention to court her, she could relax around him, because she really did enjoy his company. He was all the things every woman wanted in a man.

  Unfortunately, including her.

  …

  The group played three more parlor games. Giles lost interest by the middle of the second one. Beating the other couples in the first game had been enough of a challenge for one night. At least as far as games were concerned.

  “I find myself growing quite warm after all this activity. Perhaps a walk in the garden would be just the thing, before tea is served.” Lady Honora was once again the ultimate hostess, which was beneficial to the guests, since Lady Hawkins had spent the entire evening playing cards. Which was where he would have spent his time, were it not for his pursuit of Suzanna.

  After all the guests agreed, there was a flurry of activity as ladies donned pelisses and bonnets. Before anyone else could claim Suzanna—he’d seen Mr. Davies paying her particular attention—Giles took Suzanna’s arm and tucked it under his, against his side.

  The air did feel wonderful after the heat of the house. Torches had been lit along the pathway, which stretched before them, winding around in curves, giving strollers a view of the extensive gardens Lady Hawkins took such pride in. Much of the comeliness of the floral arrangements was lost to the darkness, however, but a stroll in the dark with Suzanna held a certain appeal.

  Giles held back, allowing distance to grow between them and the other couples. “The night air is quite refreshing,” Suzanna said. “I was growing overwarm during that last game. Although I always find charades fun.”

  “Ah, yes. Parlor games. The very heart of house parties.” He slowed their pace even more, hoping Suzanna did not notice how far away from the others they were. It would be a wonderful end to the day if he could kiss her.

  “I understand there is a picnic planned for tomorrow. Lady Honora mentioned at dinner that there are several rowboats to be had. Do you row, Mr. Templeton?”

  Giles came to an abrupt halt, swung Suzanna around, and pulled her into his arms. “Suzanna. Every time we are alone, and you call me Mr. Templeton, I shall kiss you.”

  “’Tis not proper to call you anything except Mr. Templeton.”

  “Alone. When we are alone. No one will object, since no one will hear us.”

  She gazed up at him, the light from the slight moon turning her fair skin to silver and her blue eyes to indigo. “Why is that so important to you?” The whispered words from her plump lips ended his control.

  “Ah, you don’t understand, do you?” Before she could protest, or in fact, utter a word, he covered her mouth with his. His hands itched to run his fingers through her hair, but the bloody bonnet halted him. Instead, he spread his feet apart and cupped her bottom, pulling her against his growing hardness. He ran his tongue along the seam of her mouth, nudging, until she opened.

  With a groan he swept in, loving her taste of mint and sweetness. One hand left her backside, and his fingers pulled the ribbon of her bonnet, releasing the bow tied under her chin. “I have to feel your hair. It’s like silk in my fingers,” he murmured against her lips.

  At first Suzanna held herself stiff, but as soon as his hand wandered to her bottom, she slid her hands up his chest, to rest on his shoulders. She became a participant, and he pulled her closer, once again running his palm over the curves of her derrière, cupping and squeezing the soft flesh.

  Aware that the pathway wove in circles and the other couples could be coming back, he slowly released her and, tucking her arm once more in his, continued the walk. They both took deep breaths, and he had the distinct impression if he had not been holding tightly onto her, Suzanna might tumble to the ground.

  They said nothing as they continued their walk.

  “My bonnet!” Suzanna pulled her arm free and hurried back to where they’d shared their kiss. He followed her and watched as she bent over to retrieve it. He closed his eyes, but it was too late. With the flaming torch right alongside where the wind had blown the bonnet, forever burned into his mind was the sight of her perfectly rounded bottom, outlined so exquisitely when her gown fell forward as she bent.

  He took her arm once again. “I hear the others coming back; I think it would be a good idea to
wait here for them so we can enter the house as a group. No gossip.”

  “Yes.” She still sounded out of breath.

  “Before they join us, I think you might want to fix your hair.”

  She quickly smoothed out the sides and tucked the loose strands into the bonnet. “This must not happen again, Mr. Templeton.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her, but this time, lightly, since the group was not far behind. “A kiss every time you don’t use my given name in private, Suzanna.”

  She turned to stalk back to the house, but he grabbed her hand and they strolled together, their fingers intertwined, with the others only about ten yards behind them.

  When they returned to the drawing room, the card players and those from the billiard room had gathered around the tea cart. Most of the men held glasses of brandy in their hands as they conversed. Small sandwiches, cakes, pies, and tarts were laid out, along with teacups and a teapot. Lady Hawkins and Lady Honora were busy pouring tea, while Hawk filled and refilled brandy glasses.

  Giles joined Hawk and Cam and accepted a glass from him. “How was the billiards?”

  Since Hawk and Cam were exceptional card players, they usually did not avail themselves of the game when at house parties. It would not be well done for Hawk to sit at the card table and fleece his guests. Although he had mentioned on occasion it might help pay for the expense of a house party, which could become quite costly to the host.

  “Billiards were fine. How goes the big romance?” Only Cam could sip his drink and still smirk at the same time.

  “I think it’s going well.”

  Hawk glanced over Giles’s shoulder. “I must give you credit, Templeton. You did pick a beauty.”

  The muscles in Giles’s stomach tightened. Amazing, how protective he was of Suzanna and how he already thought of her as his. “Don’t get any ideas, Hawk. It’s not just her looks—although I don’t object at all—she is truly a remarkable woman.”

  Hawk studied him for a moment. “You know we wish you well, but I am still concerned about where this affair of the heart will end.”

  “Have no fear. It will end exactly where I want it to end. At the altar.”

  Chapter Nine

  The minute Suzanna descended the stairs at Hawkins Manor the next morning, she hurried toward Miss St. George and linked her arm with hers. Lady Montford had elected to bypass the picnic, since she’d sent word to both Lady Hawkins and Suzanna that she had the beginnings of a megrim. Lord Montford said he would stay with his wife, which had Suzanna wondering how much of a megrim Cousin Eunice had.

  Today, Suzanna was determined to avoid Giles. No walks in the garden, no partnering in games, no whispers in her ear as they sat drinking tea. Today she would make every effort to encourage the other gentlemen at the party.

  The single, titled gentlemen.

  She’d tossed and turned the night before, touching her lips with her fingertips, remembering the feel of Giles’s warm mouth on hers. Her racing heart when he’d touched her with his large, warm hand—the hardness she’d encountered when he’d pulled her close, and how she wanted to rub her woman’s parts against him. She had groaned, recalling the sound of their heavy breaths mixed with the scent of early summer flowers.

  Each memory had brought another tingle to her nipples, another ache between her thighs. She might be an innocent, but she’d learned enough over the years to recognize passion. There were only three days left to the party, and she was determined to do everything in her power to stay far away from the rakish Mr. Templeton.

  “I’m very excited about the picnic.” Miss St. George’s curls bounced as she practically jumped up and down like a small child. But her enthusiasm made Suzanna smile, reminding her how very young Miss St. George was. In her first Season, and only seventeen years, everything was new and exciting to the young girl.

  “As am I.” She urged Miss St. George to walk toward the front door. She’d like to be outside, perhaps even in one of the carriages, before Mr. Templeton joined the group.

  Her heart plummeted when they walked through the door and Mr. Templeton waited on the pathway. “Good morning, ladies.” He bowed slightly. “You are both looking exceptionally lovely.”

  Miss St. George blushed and gave a slight dip. “Thank you, Mr. Templeton.”

  Suzanna raised her chin and gripped Miss St. George’s arm tightly. “Good morning, Mr. Templeton.”

  His smirk told her he remembered his threat to kiss her every time she called him Mr. Templeton. At least in private, which she had no intention of ever being again.

  He glanced up at the brilliant blue sky, with only a few puffy clouds. “It appears we are to be blessed with excellent weather once again.”

  “Yes, I’m so happy about that.” Miss St. George giggled, and Suzanna smiled at the young girl, feeling so much older than her three and twenty years.

  “Mr. Templeton, I understand there will be rowboats. Do you row?” Miss St. George’s large blue eyes regarded him with a longing only a young girl, new to the Marriage Mart, would exhibit. She’d not yet learned to curb her excitement. Suzanna almost felt pity for her. Once she spent a year or two in Society, all her girlish charm would segue into ennui.

  Suzanna jumped at her chance. “I’m certain Mr. Templeton is quite adept at rowing. No doubt he will be happy to take you for a ride, Miss St. George.” She smirked at his expression that went from happy to a near scowl.

  However, his years of training in good manners kicked in, and he smiled at Miss St. George. “I will be pleased to take you on a rowboat ride.”

  That settled, Suzanna’s spirits rose. Time spent on the lake in a rowboat would give her the opportunity to converse with the other men at the party and even have one of them take her out in a boat near the time Mr. Templeton and Miss St. George were about to return.

  Feeling quite satisfied with her maneuver, she urged Miss St. George forward. “Let us take this carriage.” She turned and offered Mr. Templeton a bright smile. “We will see you at the picnic.”

  Her stomach muscles clenched as he studied her carefully. Oh, Lord, it was obvious from his expression that he was already planning something. She shivered as she took the footman’s hand to climb the two steps into the carriage.

  The three carriages and the men riding horses began the journey to the picnic area. Miss St. George waxed on and on about Mr. Templeton. How handsome, how charming. How delighted she was, and thankful to Miss Blake, for suggesting Mr. Templeton take her on a rowboat ride. The girl was so enthralled, Suzanna imagined she was already planning the menu for the wedding breakfast.

  So, another young lady was smitten and had fallen for his charms. It seemed every woman wanted to marry him, except her. She sighed, reminding herself it wasn’t that she didn’t want to marry him, but…

  Sometimes she believed the only reason he continued to pursue her was for the challenge. She was probably one of the very few women who had not succumbed to his charm, and fallen at his feet.

  Suzanna gazed out the window at the passing scenery. Hawkins Manor was spread out on over eight thousand acres, Lady Honora had told her, which encompassed the manor house, fields of crops and livestock, as well as a few smaller farms, in addition to the village and church.

  As the entourage left the manor house area, they headed to a wooded expanse, where a large pathway had been cut. Dappled sun shone on the ground, trees, and undergrowth as the wheels of the carriages rolled through. Small animals scurried for cover, no doubt frightened by the noise of their group.

  Suzanna breathed deeply. She so loved the country, and the smells one could experience only there. She’d never been overly fond of London, with the noise, stench, and confusion. Hopefully, once she married, her husband would be amenable to them spending most of their time in the country.

  Husband.

  Just the word brought her spirits low. Naturally, she wanted to marry. She desired her own home, husband, and eventually a family. Children to love and nurture
. She’d been trained since the nursery what was expected of her. Where her duty rested.

  But she’d always intended—at least until Mother’s suggestion about marrying a titled lord had turned into a demand—to marry for love. How wonderful to be bedded by a man who loved her, and whom she loved, as well. To bear their children, manage their home, grow old together. She had never considered such an impossible feat, to find someone to meet those wishes, and still possess a title to please her mother.

  Then Mr. Templeton, with his soft warm lips and mesmerizing eyes, had swept into her life like a raging storm. And declared he would win her hand.

  …

  Giles rode alongside the carriages headed to the picnic area, chatting with Hawk and Cam as they left the manor house behind. Despite contributing to the conversation, his mind remained fixed on Suzanna. Very clever of her to manipulate him so he would be stuck with the young, giggling Miss St. George in a rowboat. Exactly where he had expected to have Suzanna to himself for a good hour.

  Being familiar with the lake, he had planned a visit to a little cove out of sight of the picnic area, but not so far as to cause gossip.

  Not one to be thwarted, however, his mind bounced from idea to idea that would give them time alone. It had been obvious from their very first kiss that Suzanna was not indifferent to his regard. He would never force his attentions on a woman—there were too many who welcomed his touch for that—but her fear stemmed from knowing she was affected by him.

  Ah, the chase! Never had it been so enthralling. And the reward was something he would enjoy the rest of his life. Suzanna in his bed, in his home, in his life. Their children clinging to her skirts and her, well-loved and protected, slumbering in his arms each night.

  “I say, Templeton, I wish you would win the gel, so we can enjoy your company again.” Cam scowled at him from atop his horse.

  “I agree,” Hawk added. “You’ve been here and not here since we left the manor. Cam just asked you a question—twice—and you still haven’t answered.”