My Lady Captive by Shirl Anders Read Free Book Online Page B

the tension in Wyndham’s muscular body spoke to her.
Was this the eventual price for her freedom? No, oh no!
    “ Calm down,” Wyndham hissed into her
ear as they approached the table, where both men would play their
terrible games. Before she could think clearly, Wyndham sat pulling
her downward to sit upon his lap. The leash to her collar, he
tossed negligently onto the table, as though he did not need it to
hold her captive to his power.
    Alexei, dressed in a white military uniform
with glittering medals on the shoulder, sat across the round table
from them. Wyndham tapped his long fingers on the red velvet
tabletop with his gaze never leaving Alexei. Orèlan tried not to
notice the crowd of revelers gathering around the table. She wanted
very badly to lean into Wyndham, to smell the warm scent of him and
to feel his strength around her, yet she forced herself to sit
straight. Two markers, she fiercely made herself think. Two makers, if I do this. Oh, but she prayed her Wyndham
would not lose too much, for she was trying too hard to be
brave.
    “Angelo!” Alexei snapped suddenly, and Orèlan
watched a tall darkly handsome European man walk to Alexei’s side.
Angelo’s eyelashes were long and dark, his eyes brown, his skin a
rich olive, and his build was slender. He wore evening clothes, a
black jacket, pants, and a crisp linen shirt. His cravat was
starched and folded into an intricate design. Orèlan watched in
surprise as Alexei took Angelo’s hand, lifting it upward to kiss
his knuckles. Was this . . . ?
    “My current lover,” Alexei sneered.
    Wyndham’s body tensed beneath her body as his
fingers drew into a fist on top of the tabletop. He was as
surprised as she was then.
    “I enjoy women as much,” Alexei drawled. “And
Lilith or Rosalyn, my current female companions are about here
somewhere tonight. But I thought, Lord Hawkenge, that this might be
much more interesting for both of us.”
    Orèlan turned her gaze away, looking up at
the side of Wyndham’s face. His strong features were etched in
masculine starkness, his eyes vivid purple against the golden hue
of his skin as he nodded his head slightly. Agreement. The game
would begin, yet Wyndham had seen, as she had seen, that Angelo was
as much an unwilling captive as she was to the games these powerful
men would play with their lives. Angelo was young. Too young.
Perhaps twenty, and his haunted dark eyes spoke of reluctance and
acute embarrassment. Orèlan wondered what hold Alexei had over the
young man that he could be forced to do this thing . . . or perhaps
more. Be forced to be Alexei’s lover.
    “Monte,” Alexei drawled. “I know how much you
enjoy the game, Lord Hawkenge,” Alexei sneered. Then, Alexei raised
his voice purposefully for the gathering crowd around them. “And
the bets shall be lovely body parts. Tits, ass, . . . a cock, . . .
perhaps,” He laughed, looking at Orèlan now. “Or a cunt?”
    The crowd around them murmured with
excitement and Orèlan gripped her hands together in her lap, gazing
at Alexei with all the defiance she could muster, as her heartbeat
fluttered wildly. This madness would happen and there was nothing
she could do to stop it, and her worse fear was that she understood
this was only the beginning.

    Chapter Seven

    Orèlan did not understand the game of cards
they played, but she knew when Wyndham lost the first round, by the
sudden flexing of tension in his muscular body. “I will not lose
another,” he hissed beneath his breath, and she wondered crazily if
her Wyndham meant that he purposely lost the hand so that . . .
    “Her breasts!” Alexei sneered. “And we shall
wager on the exact color of her nipples!” he shouted to the crowd
of people gathered around them. “I will wager one hundred rubles
that they are light pink and wickedly erect.”
    The crowd roared in laughter and the Arab,
who Alexei had nearly sold her to, shouted. “Five hundred rubles
that they are red and fat like