Her Wicked Captain: The River Rogues, Book 1 (14 page)

She was only doing as he’d instructed, looking for the customer’s tells. Wainwright rubbed his neck when bluffing.

Dell also noted the friendly gentleman had a particular interest in her neckline. Egged on by a streak of pure green envy for the seductive Madam LeBlanc’s hold on Rory’s interest, Dell gave both men plenty to see, leaning across the table, devilishly sliding her chips into the pot one by one.

She held a pair of aces and a pair of threes for the second hand. Rory wore the painter’s ring, but she couldn’t tell if he’d used it or not. His hands moved like lightning manipulating the cards. Just in case, she plucked at the lace of her décolleté, drawing her opponents’ eyes as she slid an ace from her glove. Wainwright’s smile broadened, while Rory’s eyes hooded, lingering on her breasts. Provoking him was deliciously thrilling.

Another win for Dell followed. She raked in her chips, bringing one to her painted lips for a lucky kiss, as she’d seen Molly do the night before. Rory’s gaze followed her movements as if connected by an invisible thread. Delight spiraled through her. At least his attention was now on her and not the sultry Vivienne.

With each round, the men’s chips dwindled, becoming more balanced with the hundreds she’d collected at her elbow—now more than enough for the stage fare she’d spent two years saving back home. But the money wasn’t hers, of course. It belonged to the house, to Moreaux and Rory. Still, she was convinced she could win. In time, she could find the opportunity to make more money. There was hope for her, Jeremiah and their freedom soon.

The next hand was dealt. A fine layer of perspiration had Rory’s hair curling against his neck. Dell discarded and drew a new card, making sure he was watching her cleavage—a taunt from the safety of her side of the table in a room full of people—forcing him to see what he’d turned down.

He tugged at his collar, and she suppressed a smile. The beast wrestled with his bonds.

When their eyes met, his gaze sparked tiny embers of fire low in her belly. This time it was he holding her attention. He wet his lower lip, a subtle message reminding her of the previous night and his other talents. Heat rushed lower in response. She crossed her legs to stop the empty ache. Scoundrel.

The bets went around the table. Kit raised the stakes. “I’m all in.”

Rory’s thumb tapped against his cards. “I’ll see you.”

He slid a large stack into the pot.

Liars. She pushed all her chips in. “I’ll raise you.”

Kit sighed, defeated. “Good God, woman. I’m out.” He smiled sadly.

Rory chuckled. “And that’s why we don’t let other people gamble with our money.”

He pushed the rest of his chips in. Surprised, Dell leaned back. It was a lot of money for a bluff. Especially against her. Rory knew what she was capable of, and still he bet?

She glanced at the ring again. He twisted his hand in the light so that the silver winked at her. The corners of his mouth twitched when he caught her looking at him. The bastard knew she couldn’t call him out! Surely, he wouldn’t cheat. Would he?

She held out her cards, a straight. Rory’s teeth flashed in a wicked grin, eyeing her with unveiled pleasure. He flicked his cards over.

“A straight flush? I don’t believe it!” She thumped a card at him, her cheeks heating.

Wainwright laughed, digging in his coat pocket. “Rory, your lady-friend is delightful. I’ll stay in for another hand.” He tossed two bills on the table and passed a cigar to Rory. Turning to Dell, he asked, “Do you smoke?” He extended a cigar toward her and traced the back of her gloved hand with his fingertips.

“I believe the lady’s out of money.” Rory’s voice was clipped. He lifted his eyebrows suggestively as he arranged his winnings.

“I don’t smoke.” She wrinkled her nose, but left her hand beneath his. “Thank you for asking anyway, Christopher.”

Rory’s glare blazed, and a tremor passed through her. He might want her gone, but she was sure she could take the rest of Wainwright’s money in one more round. There was no way either of the two men could beat her a second time. But if Rory refused to fund her gambling, she had nothing left to wager.

“I’ll tell you what.” She folded her hands on the table and leaned toward both men. “We’ll play for the best hand. Your money versus my time. If I lose, I’ll give the winner a private session.”

Kit choked on his first puff of smoke.

Rory’s brow smoothed. “Philadelphia is a famous fortune teller,” he explained without breaking his steady stare. His fingers stroked a tower of chips up and down, the cigar forgotten on the table as his attention centered on her.

Kit’s blue eyes twinkled. “Intriguing. Good enough for me. A private reading with such an enchanting lady sounds like something I’d enjoy. What do you say, Captain?”

Dell rewarded him with a smile and glanced back at Rory. His expression fierce again, he cut the cards in one dexterous hand and played with a chip in the other. Time stood still while she waited, uncertain if he would agree. She hoped he wouldn’t remind her she’d once offered him a reading for free.

After a moment, he shuffled and gave the cards a flourish between his adept hands. She eyed his long, talented fingers and readjusted her seat. Her errant mind pictured his rough hands manipulating the sensitive places of her body, playing, pinching, caressing…

“Are you sure about those stakes?” His heated gaze ran over her from her neck down the curves of her breasts, leaving her no doubt about what his reading would include. “I’m wagering a hefty sum. I’ll have high expectations for a…lengthy session.”

“You’ll hear no complaints from me. I’m willing to perform for as long as it takes. But I won’t lose.” Her throat tightened with anticipation. “Deal the cards.”

Rory gave them each five cards. Dell kept hers on the table, afraid to look. Playing straight this time, she suddenly wished she’d saved her ace for now. Kit shared his cards. Three of kind. He sat back and pulled on his cigar with a smug wink at Rory.

Rory’s turn. He produced four queens and a deuce.

Beaten, his opponent sighed with disgust.

Dell cringed. Only three or four hands could beat him. She flipped her cards, revealing a mere two pairs and an ace.

Though she hated defeat, relief filled her. This was one wager she preferred to lose to the captain.

Kit threw back another drink of rum and brought the glass down with an oath. “Once again the house of Moreaux has bested a Wainwright.” Dell pushed her chair back from the table, and Kit stood, graciously helping her to her feet. “Alas, I’ve lost all the money I brought with me, but it was worth every minute thanks to you, Philadelphia. Rory and I are planning to coerce my uncle into a game against Moreaux. Perhaps you’d like to come by the house. I think Uncle Bart should enjoy meeting you. You could give me a reading then, as well. Name your price.”

Dell opened her mouth to speak, but Rory cut her off. “She’s retired. About to become a schoolmarm.” He rose and circled the table. “But we might take you up on that visit.”

Kit glanced between them. “I look forward to it.” He lifted Dell’s gloved hand and kissed her exposed fingers. She caught the goading look he shot at Rory before he sauntered away, leaving the salon.

Rory closed the distance between them. She stroked her throat, feeling suddenly exposed in her choice of dress like meat before a hungry lion. His hand fanned lightly over her waist with familiarity, branding her with heat as he leaned to her ear. “I’ll collect my winnings…now.” His warm breath made her shiver.

“Certainly.” Her blood hummed with excitement to finally have him to herself.

Dell caught the stares of Moreaux and his moll as Rory hastened her outside. She wondered if they’d seen her performance and if Quintus approved.

Inside the captain’s quarters, the lantern had already been lit by one of the
Queen
’s maids. Rory closed the door behind his back without taking his eyes off her.

Standing between the man and his bed again, her mind filled with uncertainty. She’d wanted him alone today. Now that she had his full attention, her confidence wavered.

He’d flung off his necktie on the way to the room, leaving his shirt open at the collar. Now he unbuttoned his cuffs and beckoned her closer with the tilt of his head. Energy pulsed from his pores, radiating the room with its power. She’d provoked the beast, and now he stood before her unfettered. A heady shudder ran through her.

She couldn’t hold his gaze long as she approached him, feeling the heavy pounding in her chest. “For your reading I’ll need another chair at the table. I always sit opposite—”

“I don’t want a reading tonight.” His voice was sandpaper rough and his impatience abundantly clear. “You know why I brought you here. If you want to change your mind, now’s the time.”

She glanced at the door. He could’ve chosen the Frenchwoman, but he hadn’t. Now Dell was completely in charge of her future. This was her last chance to preserve her virtue—the line in the sand between respectability and promiscuity. Her mouth went dry, but she wouldn’t let him know.

“You’ve always given me a choice. Right now this is what I choose.”

Rory caught her hands, threaded her fingers with his, then wheeled her back to the door. The flirtations at the table had stoked his ardor to a raging fire, as well as hers, and now he sought possession of her, fulfilling all her wishes. He lifted their linked hands in the air and his mouth crashed into hers. Then pressed beneath him against the door, she kissed him back, giving him access.

His heart slammed against hers as his tongue ran deep, in and out of her mouth, his breathing hard. After his grip left hers, she felt the urgent dig of his hands on her skirt as his tongue stroked hers, his fingers inching her dress upward until air wafted against her bare legs. His calloused hands smoothed in circles along her thighs and behind her, delving into her drawers to cup her buttocks. He repositioned himself, moving his hardened organ against her stomach. His mouth then softened, giving her lips small, hungry nibbles, and she felt herself melting inside—along with all her inhibitions.

She unbuttoned his shirt as he dropped slow kisses along her cheek and jaw. His hands kneaded her bottom, caressed it—sending shots of excitement through her stomach. Then his palm slid down the back of her leg. He bent his knees, and she wrapped a leg around him. He pulled her up, pinioning her off the floor between his hard erection and the door. Their mouths connected again, harder than before. Her body throbbed against their intimate point of contact.

Needing to see him, she slid the shirt from his wide shoulders, pulling it away from his chest. Her hands explored the contours of his strong body, the tight, hard curves of muscle that wound over his chest and tapered from his ribs to his waist, and she felt her way down to the cold, hard hilt of the pistol holstered on his right hip. He continued kissing her neck as she fumbled with the buckle. The gun dropped with a hard thud, but he didn’t flinch. His mouth covered hers again, and he coaxed her tongue into his heat, suckling her. She explored his mouth languidly, showing her desire to know him in every way possible.

With a guttural sound in his throat, Rory eased her away from the door, letting her slide down his length until both her feet touched the floor, then he broke the kiss. Taking her by the hand, he led her to the bed.

While she removed her gloves, she watched him finish undressing. He gave her little time to admire his naked, golden skin before he came toward her. His arms went around her as he kissed her, his fingers unlacing her bodice behind her back. His hands slid inside the stiff garment, caressing the skin and bones of her back, tracing a thumb along her spine.

He pulled back and eyed her loosened dress, presently shielding her body from his. “Am I gonna find more cards hiding in there?”

He knew about her ace! She grinned. “No, but you’re welcome to search if you don’t believe me.”

He smiled and crushed his lips against hers again. Touching his neck, she felt the furious tempo of his pulse. He lifted her onto the bed, clothes and all, and leaned over her with a knee beside her leg.

“I like this dress,” he murmured, raking up the loose material until it pooled between them and their bare legs tangled, “but I’d like it better off.”

“Leave it for now,” she rasped, not willing to waste another moment.

His fingers spread inside the waist of her drawers and he slid them down her legs.

When he moved over her again, bending down to kiss her deeply, his heavy cock pressed between her legs.

He lifted his face and stared into her eyes. Something proud, fierce and yet vulnerable filled his expression. “Philadelphia, I want to be your first lover. I don’t want anybody to steal that from me.” He dropped his head to her shoulder and nuzzled against her hair. She could feel the tension coursing through him. “Tell me again I’m being selfish. That I shouldn’t—”

She kissed his forehead, ran her hand into his hair and turned his face to hers. “No. I want this too.” She kissed his shaven cheek and then his lips.

He released a breath and angled his mouth against hers. She felt his body move over hers, the tip of him bumping into the warm, achy place between her thighs. Her hand explored him and found he was hard, silky and full, ready to be her undoing. And her making.

His desire encouraged and excited her.

He groaned as her fingers formed a circle around him. “Put it in.”

She touched the head against her cleft and lifted her knees.

“Now wait.” He kissed her beneath her ear and the tip of his tongue traced a circle. Then he nibbled her neck again, making her wriggle and buck. She clutched his arms, holding on as his mouth on her neck maddened her, made her part wild animal for wanting him.

“Rory, please.”

Her hands curled into him, pulling him closer, needing to bring him into her. She knew what he wanted, what he needed from her. No bracing this time—completely ready for him.

Her hands glided down the chiseled muscles of his back and buttocks, and when she felt him pull upward for the thrust, she followed, raising her hips as well, taking him fully into her as he descended. Sharp pain pierced her. She caught her cry in her throat, trying hard to be strong, and the resulting sound was a strangled moan. Rory wrapped his arms around her, still inside her, and cradled her where they lay.