The Wager Read Online Free

reduced her to helplessness?   She let him assist her out of the coach and
looked around, with no idea where they were. Had he not said they were going to
his town house?
    "The mews." He answered her unspoken query. "I thought
we deserved some privacy. Come." He took her hand and Catherine let him
lead her across a lane and through a narrow door in a tall stone wall. Once
through the door, the scents of spring flowers assailed her senses. It was so
unexpected in central
London
that she stopped abruptly. "Oh how lovely. A scented
garden?"
    "It was my mother's doing. It reminded her
of the country. She disliked town and only came on sufferance to be with my
father when he sat in Parliament. She was happiest at
Chaloner Court
."
    Catherine felt the soft touch of leaves
underfoot and then he was escorting her into the house. The corridor she found
herself in was dark and dank. She shivered; the air was cold, the atmosphere
intimidating, and she wondered what would happen next.   I seem to be doing a lot of
wondering and not much finding out. But how could she discover what was
happening if he would not tell her?
    Brook seemed not to be fazed by the dark and
towed her along after him at a rapid pace. At last he stopped, opened a door in
the wall and then ushered her through the opening.
    She blinked; it was a cozy study, masculine but
not cold or harsh. Three walls were lined with books, a huge fireplace half
covered the fourth. In it a fire burned, the flames crackling and sparking,
sending flickering shadows to dispel the darkness created by the pool of lights
from the candles. On a large oak table several books sat, some open. Catherine
itched to see what they were.   It was
such a personal room; she wondered why he had brought her there?
      His arms
rested on her shoulders as he drew her cloak from her. His touch elicited
forgotten memories, and she leaned into him. For one brief moment she could
have sworn she felt his lips on her neck, but it was such a fleeting sensation,
she didn't know if she imagined it or not. Then her cloak was taken away, and
he turned her towards a long comfortable looking chaise. "I think perhaps
we should sit. I have a proposition to put to you."
     
     

 
    Chapter Four
     
    Brook gathered his thoughts. His idea may well
earn him a hard elbow in the groin. It took all his control not to cover
himself. To give himself time to decide what to say he walked to the decanter
and poured two glasses of port. The ruby red liquid shone rich and warm in the
candlelight.
    "I remember you would drink port with
me," he said as he handed her a goblet. "I trust you will not
decline?" How stilted he sounded. Brook cursed under his breath; he must
appear pompous and old. It was not the effect he was striving for. "Your health, Catherine." He touched his glass to
hers. She smiled but made no comment. Her eyes sparkled as she drank.
    "Well as you are drinking it I can trust it
isn't poisoned," she said, just as he was sure he had to shake her and
demand she vocalized what was in her mind. "Unless you
are very talented at sleight of hand?" He was, but he had no
intention of imparting that fact. "So." She put her glass down on a side table.
"What next?"
    Brook regarded her over the rim of his glass.
Under his stare she began to fidget. His Catherine had never been one to sit
still for long. Over the years he thought she had learned some decorum, but it
seemed in his presence, she was fast losing it. Good, I wish her to be unnerved.
    "Your brother gave you to me as my prize
for beating him. I am going to claim my prize. You however, have a chance to
adjust the outcome."
    "I do? Pray tell me how. For
as far as I can see, I am an unwilling participant here."
    Unwilling? When her breath is jerking, her pulse jumping and her nipples peaking under the silk of her
gown? Her mind may disagree with her body, but the signs are there . He controlled his burgeoning staff with
difficulty. It was not the time to show his intent