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

watched unblinking as they landed. Five and six. When it was her turn to throw she looked at Ewan, not the dice. “Three,” she called, and three is precisely what fell.
    He could not believe it was over. Striding over to the silver salver standing on the table beside the fireplace, Ewan poured himself a large brandy and downed it in one draught.
    “Slowly, take your time,” Belle said, in a deliberate echo of his own words that first night. “I would have you sober. You have a debt to settle, Captain Dalgleish.”
    Ewan looked up. Blue eyes, alight with something. Mouth curled up in a mocking smile, a direct imitation of his own. “But you won,” he said stupidly.
    “Indeed I did. Which means that I decide what happens.” She crooked her finger and swept imperiously from the room.
    Ewan followed, his heart thumping with anticipation. By the time they arrived at the door of her chamber he was already hard. Never had he wanted something so much.
    “Undress,” Belle commanded him, busy rummaging for something in the tall chest of drawers set against the far wall.
    He did so. She turned to find him magnificently naked before her. She caught her breath, allowed hereyes to travel slowly over him, from his flaming mane down past the breadth of his shoulders, his chest, the rippling muscles of his abdomen, his powerful thighs, her breath coming shallow and fast as she took in his aroused state. She forced herself to continue down the length of his legs, the beautifully defined muscles of his thighs and calves. Standing thus, there was no trace of the sophisticated gentleman; he was all raw power and overwhelmingly male. Untamed. But not, she hoped, untameable.
    She wondered if it was possible to tease a man in the same way as she had been teased. Brought to the brink of pleasure and suspended there, time and again. She was resolved to try.
    “Well,” Ewan demanded, more aroused than abashed by her scrutiny. “Do I pass muster.”
    “You are a fine looking specimen,” Belle said dismissively.
    He laughed, genuine amusement rippling through his stomach muscles, making his eyes crinkle attractively at the corners.
    She could not help it; she returned his smile.
    “Come here, Belle.”
    His words brought her up short. “No! It is for you to do my bidding tonight. Lie on the bed.”
    A quizzical look, but he obliged. “What do you plan to do with me?”
    She looked down at him, trying to etch his image in her mind. Anger gave way to tenderness. Desire, as ever in his company, lurked in the wings ready to take a leading role. “Tonight you are the vanquished. Myprisoner. I intend to make use of you. Raise your arms.”
    Warily, he did so, watching as she produced two silk ribbons, sashes from dresses, he realised, and tied one around each wrist. When she concentrated her tongue peeped out between her lips. He wondered if she knew. He wanted to kiss her. As she tested her knots and began to tie the other end of the sashes to the bed posts, he relaxed. She wanted revenge, but it was not his demoralisation she sought; it was the upper hand. In this dark part of themselves were they not made of the same clay? Tonight, she needed him to resist before he submitted. A reversal of last night. He understood that, too.
    Belle surveyed her handiwork with satisfaction. She stood in front of him to unhook her dress, recalling how much he had enjoyed watching her disrobe that first night. How much she had enjoyed it, too. Watching his excitement mount served to increase hers, she had learned. Provocatively, she paraded in front of him, casting silk and lace and cotton and ribbons aside. Naked, she reached up to loosen her hair, stretching her arms above her head to tauten the line of her breasts, watching Ewan through half-closed lids with immense satisfaction. He was positively devouring her with his eyes. A curl of excitement knotted tight in her belly.
    Ewan strained at the ribbons. Forced himself to relax.
    Belle laughed for the