Page 11 of A Reckless Wager
“Mary, thank you. As usual, you thought correctly.”
Georgiana dressed in long, blue, wide-legged breeches that appeared to be a skirt when she stood with her legs together—her father’s concession to her wearing men’s riding pants today. A white, long-sleeved blouse, blue riding jacket, and hat to match completed the look.
She made her way downstairs, her insides jumbling as she entered the foyer where all the men were waiting. Oh dear, was she late? Were they all staring?
Amberville approached. “Good morning, Lady Georgiana. Are you ready to begin? Our mounts are right outside, as well as the dogs.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“Do you remember your father’s rules? We have only four hours to return here, or we will forfeit the prize.”
Had she remembered that detail? No, she hadn’t. She was hardly surprised to find Aunt Clara on her horse, waiting for them.
“I’m chaperoning. But don’t let me hold you up. Go ahead, and I’ll be along at my leisure.”
All three hunting parties left, led by a servant and two hounds on a rope. She knew there would be plenty of walking once the hounds picked up a scent. The birds wanted to burrow beneath shrubbery. When the dogs frightened them, they would take to the sky. Georgiana needed to be dismounted and on solid ground to shoot. Taking aim and shooting on horseback didn’t work well for her.
After several hours—her body sore and her feet protesting all the walking on sticks, twigs, and rocks—they made their way back to the estate with eleven grouse hanging off Amberville’s and her saddle. Not a bad day’s kill. If each party did as well, the cooks would have plenty of grouse to prepare.
As she made her way to the front of the estate, her heart seized at the sight of Blackstone and her father being congratulated on their kill count. One glance at their birds, and she knew she’d lost the wager. Was she upset? No, she was relieved to know she would forfeit a kiss to the viscount. A kiss she relished thinking about participating in again. She shivered at the thought of his mouth on hers again—a most welcome shiver. As for the waltzes, she believed she could convince him to dance with her when the time came.
“My dear Georgiana,” her papa said with a big grin, holding up dead birds. “We bagged eighteen.”
Amberville assisted her down from her mount. “Congratulations, Papa. It appears you and Blackstone have won the competition.”
“Splendid!” He handed off his birds to the first servant he saw. “Have cook prepare these for dinner.”
Her neck tingled as she concentrated on her papa, because she knew without looking that Blackstone watched her in silence. He was probably planning where and when to collect his wager. She tried not to turn and look at him, but she lost the struggle. The brown of his eyes smoldered, sending heat to her cheeks. He grinned like a schoolboy caught doing something naughty, but nothing he regretted.
“Lady Georgiana,” Blackstone said. “I look forward to tonight’s festivities. Your father has informed us that dinner will be served in the formal gardens, as the weather is favorable.” He bowed, turned, and strolled off like a man who’d won a bet.
She sighed, excused herself, and went to her room to bathe and take a nap to rest up for the festivities. And one crucial upcoming event she couldn’t get out of her mind.
Her forfeit.
His winnings.
The kiss.
Between the warm bath water and her heated blood, she needed a splash of cool water to settle the inferno that seemed to plague her entire body. Having never experienced anything like this before—except several other times when she was in his company, close company—was she to believe this was desire? That she desired Blackstone?
Thankfully, she read gothic novels and knew all about desire. Or what the writer writes about their impression of desire. And the physical attraction between two people. Was she attracted to the viscount? Honestly, the answer was that she thought so. Having never experienced carnal interest in another human being, she could only surmise the feelings. But if it meant every time you were in that person’s company, you couldn’t take your eyes off them, stop thinking about them, or dream about them— then, yes, she was attracted to Blackstone. Was he attracted to her? Oh yes, if the look in his eyes after the hunt meant anything. Flames practically flew out of his eyes.
Dried off and donning a shift, she climbed between the cool sheets and closed her eyes to visions of him riding and hunting. Looking and being larger than life.
Phillip was on edge. He’d won the wager, yet he couldn’t explain the unsettledness running inside his nerves for some reason. Guaranteed another kiss with Georgiana should have him exploding with excitement. Deep down inside, he knew the reason. She meant more to him than a wager. Much more. Betting on a kiss felt cheap as if one made such a wager with a Cyprian. After much contemplating, he decided he’d forfeit his prize. That was not to say he wouldn’t kiss her, and soon. But it would be when he deemed it the perfect time.
Chapter Seven
The gardens were splendid. Tables and chairs had been scattered around the pathways, and torches stuck in the ground lit the way as guests took their assigned seats. She was seated with Blackstone, Mr. Bedford, and Miss Montgomery. Servants hurried here and there, serving the first course and filling everyone’s wine glasses. Georgiana’s insides hummed with all the excitement surrounding her.
Seated across from Blackstone, feeling his eyes penetrate deep inside her bones should have made her uncomfortable. But it was just the opposite. She could not look away as he ate his turtle soup and sipped his claret. Even when he caught her staring and grinned knowingly, she couldn’t avert her eyes. The man was too handsome. His features were chiseled to perfection, and his hair? Her fingers itched to comb through his thick mane.
She fought the urge to squirm in her seat. Something unlike anything she’d ever felt was happening to her woman’s parts: heat, wetness, the desperate desire to be touched down there. Oh dear, now her entire body burned, including her cheeks. Could people see how flushed she was? She grabbed her glass of wine and took several quick sips, hoping to bring the inferno down to a smolder.
Afraid to look across the table, she concentrated on her plate, forcing herself to eat as each course brought something new and tasty before her. The other three occupants of the table chatted amongst themselves. She didn’t hear a word as her accelerated pulse pounded in her ears. Finally, the last course was cleared from all the tables, and people began to scatter throughout the gardens or enter the house for cards.
“Would you care to take a stroll?”
