Passion for the Game

Christopher waved his hand carelessly at the men who followed at his heels. “Take care of that,” he drawled, shutting out the scuffle that ensued with a firm click of the latch.

Breathing deeply, he pulled the scent of Maria deep into his nostrils and thumbed the lock, surprised to find himself somewhat hesitant to turn about and face her. The thought of her wounded did odd things to his equanimity.

“Be grateful I am too weary to give you your due, Mr. St. John.”

He smiled at the breathy sound of her voice. It was weak, yes, but it chal enged him just the same. Turning, he found her lost in her large bed, her olive skin pale and her brows furrowed with pain. Dressed in a thin cotton night rail with lace at the throat and wrists, the infamous Lady Winter looked as innocent as a schoolgirl.

His gut clenched.

“Christopher,” he corrected hoarsely, the betraying rasp forcing him to clear his throat. Shrugging out of his coat, he took a moment to col ect himself.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she whispered, watching him.

“Thank you.” He draped the garment over the back of a slipper chair and moved to her side, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Her head turned to keep their gazes locked together. “You do not look Well.”

“Oh?” Both brows rose. “I think I look better than you.”

The corner of her mouth lifted. “Nonsense. You are pretty, but I am far prettier.”

He smiled and caught up her tiny hand within his own. “I will not argue with that.”

A loud crash in the next room followed by a curse made her wince. “I hope you have enough men out there. Simon is in a mood, and I have seen him dispatch a small army by himself.”

“Forget about him,” he said curtly. “I am here. Think about me.”

Her eyes slid closed, revealing delicate lids darkened by tiny purple veins. “I have done nothing else for a few days now.”

He was startled by the statement, and confused as to whether he could believe it or not. Which led him to wonder about how he would feel if it were true. He frowned down at her. “You have been thinking of me?”

Without thought, he lifted his hand and brushed loose tendrils of her unbound hair behind her ears. His fingertips returned to her cheek, caressing feather light over the satin-smooth skin. The tenderness he felt took him aback. It made him wish to stand up and back out of the room, return to his home, where everything was familiar and ran like clockwork.

“Did I say that aloud?” she murmured, slightly slurred of speech. “How sil y of me. Pay me no mind. It is the laudanum, I’m sure.”

The withdrawal of her admission pulled him forward, urging him to lean closer. He paused with his lips a breath away from hers, the scent of her skin so strong it made his loins tighten.

“Do it,” she breathed, goading him even in her vulnerable state.

The way she pushed him made him smile, and his smile set off hers. Satisfaction flared that he could lift the weight of pain that shrouded her.

“I am waiting for you,” he murmured.

There was a slight, tel tale moment of hesitation. Then Maria’s head moved slightly, closing the tiny distance between them until her lips pressed gently to his. The soft, innocent kiss arrested him, froze him in place, his heart lurching from its normal steady beat into a breakneck race.

Unable to resist, he licked along the seam of her mouth, col ecting the flavor of opium, brandy, and pure delicious Maria. She gasped, opening the sweet depths to his tentative thrust, her hand clutching at his. When the tip of her tongue ventured in return, Christopher groaned.

Even helpless, she undid him.

Then her free hand moved between his legs, slender fingers stroking the rigid length of his cock. He jerked back violently from the caress, a curse gritted out between clenched teeth.

She cried out softly in pain as the force of his movement rocked her.

“Maria. Forgive me.” Contrite, he lifted her hand to his lips. “Why touch me in that manner when you haven’t the wherewithal to follow through?”

It took her a moment to reply, her eyes squeezed shut as she appeared to recover from the hurt he’d unwittingly caused. “You did not say you thought of me during our separation. I wished to know.”

Some object made of glass broke in the room next door, and then something heavy thumped against the wal . Quinn yel ed and someone retorted.

Christopher growled low. “My siege today is insufficient proof of my desire to be with you?”

Her lids lifted, revealing fathomless dark eyes that seemed so desolate to him, far beyond what he would expect from a battle wound. The hopelessness he saw was soul deep and bleak.

“Sieges are a way to defeat an enemy,” she said simply. “Though your haste is flattering.”

“And the kiss?” he asked. “What was that?”

“You tel me.”

He stared at her, his chest lifting and fall ing. Frustrated with his lack of control, Christopher pushed to his feet and began to pace, something he never did.

“Would you like some water?” he asked a moment later.

“No. Go away.”

He paused midstride. “Beg your pardon?”

“You heard me.” Turning her head, Maria rested her cheek against her pil ow. “Go. Away.”

Giving in to his desire to depart, Christopher moved toward his coat. He did not need this aggravation, and he was not the type of man to woo women. They either wanted him or they didn’t.

“I am not sure how I feel about your men fol owing me,” she murmured.

His hand stil ed atop his garment. “Grateful?” he suggested.

She waved him away.

The dismissive gesture rankled. Here he’d waited impatiently for her to return and then, because he did not give her the platitudes she desired, she sent him away.

“I thought of you,” he grumbled.

Her eyes did not open, but one dark brow rose. Only Maria could make that tiny movement convey icy disdain.

Because he felt as if he’d revealed something he should not have, he said, “I was hoping we would stay a day or two in bed when you returned;

however, I had envisioned the time spent more strenuously than merely lying about as you are doing.”

Her returning smile was knowing, as if she col ected his need to reduce his statement to physical hunger and nothing more. “How often?”

“The sex? As often as I recovered.”

She laughed softly. “How often did you think of me?”

He growled. “Too often.”

“Was I unclothed?”

“Most of the time.”

“Ah, Well.”

“How often was I unclothed?” he asked hoarsely, thoughts of her possible musings renewing his hunger.

“Al of the time. It seems I am more lecherous than you.”

“I think it’s far more likely that you and I are evenly matched.”

Opening one eye, Maria glanced at him. “Hmm…”

Leaving his coat, he returned to her. “Who is this governess whom you seek at such cost?” He resumed both his seat on her velvet-draped bed and his possession of her hand. It was then he noted how short her nails were, nails that had once been long enough to do damage to his back. His thumb rubbed over the tips.

“She is not the one I want.”

“Oh?” Christopher lifted his gaze to search her pale features. Even with her unhealthy pal or, he found her beautiful. Certainly he knew many lovely women, but there were none he could imagine who had the strength to bear the pain Maria had to be in. “Who, then?”

“Did you not question your men?”

“There was no time.”

“Now I am truly flattered,” she drawled, smiling in a way that hit him with the force of a blow. Had he ever seen her smile before today? He could not recall.

“I am questioning you instead.”

“You look dashing in that shade of brown.” Once again she touched his thigh, caressing his breeches. The muscle tensed beneath her fingertips.

“You dress beautiful y.”

“I look better naked,” he said.

“I wish I could say the same. Sadly, I bear a few holes.”

“Maria.” He spoke low and earnestly, his grip on her hand tightening. “Al ow me to assist you in your endeavors.”

She gave him her ful attention. “Why?”

Because I must betray you. Because I need to redeem myself in some way before I do. “Because I can help you.”

“Why do you want to help me, Christopher? What do you gain?”

“Must I benefit in some way?”

“I think you must,” she said, wincing as her bedroom door rocked in its hinges.

“Maria!” Simon shouted through the door, followed immediately by a grunt and a thud.

Christopher had to admit, he was impressed at the other man’s ability to persevere.

“They won’t harm him, will they?” she asked with a worried frown. “A little rough play is one thing, but I will not tolerate anything beyond that.”

Her concern for the other man was an irritant.

“Al I ask of you,” he said tightly, “is what I asked before—I want you available for my use. No haring off. I want you when I want you, not a sennight later and too il to take me.”

“Perhaps I prefer to decline and manage my own affairs.”

He snorted. “Perhaps I might have believed you if you had not admitted to thinking of me.”

“I am no man’s mistress.”

“I offer the same level of convenience to you. I will come when you call for me. Does that put the arrangement in a more agreeable light?”

Maria’s fingers stroked across his palm. It was an innocent caress, one given almost without thought. Her gaze was distant, her mind occupied elsewhere, her lower lip worried between her teeth. He lifted his free hand and stroked his thumb across the plump curve.

“When we first met in the theater, you mentioned an agency,” she reminded, her breath hot against his skin.