The Captain's Wicked Wager by Marguerite Kaye Read Free Book Online

smile.
    “You are serious,” he said wonderingly.
    Her smile faded abruptly. “A dream, that’s all.” She was silent, frowning down at the map. “As a woman, I am allowed no ambitions,” she said bitterly. “But you can do anything you want. You are marking time with your hell raising I think, but it does not satisfy you, does it?”
    “You’re very perceptive. It’s not the danger I miss, nor even the battles—it’s the challenge, the unpredictability. I had forgotten what that felt like until I met you.”
    “Your dark side,” Isabella said, flushing. “You will need to find another outlet for it after tonight.”
    He was hurt. “And you, too,” he said roughly, testing her reaction.
    She shook her head. “Tomorrow, perhaps even tonight if I win, Belle will be gone forever.”
    “Don’t talk like that,” he said, putting a hand on herwrist.
    She brushed him away. “This is not real life, what has transpired here between us. It is a game. A necessity for me, a diversion for you.” She stood, brushing out her skirts, and left the room, seeking refuge in her chamber. She would not give house room to this stupid sentimental feeling the day-time Ewan aroused in her. He was her adversary. For if he was not, then what was he?
    The question would not go away. As she bathed and dressed in an evening gown, as dusk fell and night ascended, Isabella and Belle waged war in her mind.
    It’s ridiculous to imagine an acquaintance which can be measured in hours could amount to anything important. I hardly know Ewan.
    I know the important things. I have known those since almost the moment I set eyes on him.
    Extreme circumstances brought us together. I am here only to save my brother.
    I came here for Robin but I am staying for my own reasons.
    I am simply in thrall to my own passions then…that is it, surely?
    This chemistry between us is a symptom, not a cause. My passions are the result of my feelings, not the other way around.
    So I am in love with him?
    Yes, I am in love with him. Deeply, irrevocably in love with him. There, it is said!
    I am not foolish enough to think my love returned, though.
    No. And I do not want his pity, either.
    My opponent he must remain then, Isabella said.
    My opponent, Belle agreed sadly.
    But by the time Belle faced Ewan over the dinner table, her mood was black. She would be gone in the morning. She wished she could be sure Ewan would miss her. She wished she did not care whether or not he did. She wished she could stop wishing. She cut viciously into the capon on her plate.
    “You have the look of someone with a hunger food won’t satisfy.”
    His words cut into her thoughts. He was not smiling, but he was laughing at her all the same. Pettishly, she pushed her plate away. “You flatter yourself if you think it’s you I hunger for,” she snapped. “You are a skilful lover, and you have taught me a few tricks, but I am a quick learner. I don’t need you. Rather it is you who has need of me.”
    Her words were meant to hurt him. He knew that, but they hurt all the same. He could not read her mood. When she had left him earlier, he told himself it was part of their game. But she was still angry; so angry with him, and he did not know why. With the curtain up on their final act, it was as if he was in the wrong play. He had not thought of the ending, but he did not want this ending. “Isabella,” he said urgently, “it doesn’t have to be like this, you know.”
    “Yes, it does,” she said at last. “We agreed on the rules at the outset. And you must call me Belle, not Isabella,” she added coldly.
    As he followed her for the last time to the upstairsparlour, uncertainty made him apprehensive. He had convinced himself that the fall of the dice tonight was irrelevant. He realised he had been horribly wrong. He picked up the ivories. “Three,” he called, for the nights of their wager. “No four,” he amended superstitiously, casting the dice reluctantly.
    Belle