Once Upon a Wager Read Online Free Page A

to be brought up for dinner, she was able to slip by unnoticed. In moments, she was up the stairs.
    • • •
    Only when she’d vanished from sight did Alec allow his careful control to slip. The ghosts of his past were all around him. He and Gareth and Annabelle, rolling down the hillside over there on that warm spring day, laughing aloud as governesses and tutors ran after them, bemoaning grass stains and inappropriate behavior. That long ago summer night, sitting with Annabelle on the bench behind the folly, her hand in his, because while she loved to look up at the stars, she was frightened of the dark. That afternoon when he’d come down from Oxford for a visit, and she leapt into his arms. His only searing thought had been, “how beautiful you’ve become.” That morning two years ago, when everything changed.
    He hadn’t been able to sleep. It had been intensely hot, even at that early hour of the morning, so he’d gone for a walk, hoping for a breeze. Hearing her laughter, he’d been drawn to it, never expecting to find Annabelle dancing in the fountain, a pagan goddess of the dawn, water coursing over every nearly naked curve. The pink tips of her breasts had been visible through her wet shift, and he’d felt like the worst sort of lecher for wanting her. Even now, he hardened at the memory, his mouth dry as dust.
    Annabelle was free in a way he’d never been, full of life and laughter. She was warm, vital, and sparkling, like flames in the night. But never had someone been more unsuited to the path that he must follow. His happiness was not his own. It did not matter that he wanted her, that he could no longer deny his desire. How shocked she’d be to know that while he had been untangling her hair, he’d been imagining it wound around him, her body naked beneath his own.

Chapter 2
    Annabelle returned to the party just as the first course was served, hopefully with no one the wiser. No one besides Alec, at least. She sensed him watching her at every opportunity, but whether to keep her safe or avoid her path, she didn’t know. Course after course was served to the throng of seated guests. There were soups, sweetmeats, and baked fowl; meats, terrines, and savory tarts; sugar-glazed fruits and desserts—all presented by white-gloved servers moving with almost orchestral precision.
    Even without the butterflies they’d planned on, it was perfect. If only Alec would ask her to dance, the evening’s earlier trials could be overlooked, but he hadn’t asked. She despaired that he ever would.
    Gareth’s friends from school, however, were gratifyingly kind, paying her ridiculous compliments. Handsome Benjamin Alden, the Viscount Marworth, recited such effusive poetry she’d laughed out loud in response. Gareth’s new friends from London, however, were less appealing, their regard inappropriate. As she escaped two of them with the excuse she was needed elsewhere, a voice rang out. “Belle!”
    She turned to see her brother weaving his way toward her, the lecherous Mr. Digby close behind. Surely there were more appealing friends to be had in London? Of late, though, Gareth was more impressed by flash than substance, and Digby was the perfect characterization of that.
    Drawing up beside her, Gareth planted a sloppy kiss on her cheek, a sure sign of advancing inebriation. “Annabelle, you must meet Damien Digby, one of my very oldest and dearest friends.”
    She knew full well he was neither.
    Digby’s eyes fixed on her décolletage as he made his bow. “Miss Layton, I’ve been anxious to make your acquaintance. Will you stand up with me for the next dance?”
    She’d rather have all of her teeth pulled out. However, as one of the hostesses for this evening, it would be rude to decline. Not that Digby was willing to wait for an answer. He’d reached his arm out to clasp her elbow, his gloved hand clammy with sweat. She shuddered as he strengthened his hold, pulling her toward the dancers near the