Page 10 of His Improper Lady

She raised her head and looked across the room at him, and her eyes pierced him. Almost unconsciously, Tom edged around the others watching the game, moving closer to her. She did not look at him again as she continued with the game, keeping up a light chatter and smiling.

Tom maneuvered his way to a spot barely a foot away from her. Perfume drifted up lightly, a haunting, unusual fragrance that made him think of midnight and sultry heat and exotic flowers opening on a twisted vine.

He had found his thief.

CHAPTER FIVE

DESIREE NOTICED THE man the moment he entered the room. It wasn’t usually something she did; she kept her full focus on the men at the table and the cards. Those who liked to hang about watching were as much background as the walls or the noise from the main room.

But tonight her eyes flicked up at the movement in the wide doorway, and her brain seemed to stutter, her concentration falling. She wasn’t sure what it was about him that caught her attention. Like many other men in the room, he was well dressed, but nothing flashy. His hair was blond and his eyes light colored, blue, she thought, or maybe gray. He was neither tall nor short. A man, in other words, who should blend in. But there was something about him that made him...different.

She pulled her eyes back to the game. Yet still Desiree was tinglingly aware of him. She felt more than saw him as he moved around the table toward her. It was fortunate that she held a strong hand, for she had glanced away just as the man next to her called her bid and thus she had missed her chance to watch him as he bid.

There was little to see now in her opponent’s cool demeanor. The next man, Herbert Collins, who returned to her games so frequently that she now knew his name, folded. That didn’t surprise her: Collins was dreadful at the game of brag; his emotions were so easily readable that she always knew whether he had drawn a good or bad hand, without even using her talent. The third man had already dropped out of the game, and the next one joined him and Collins.

Desiree suspected she could increase her probable winnings by going another round and concentrating on reading the other players with her inner eye, but she was confident of her three-card hand, and she was suddenly eager to end the game. So she smiled and doubled the bet, calling to see the cards. As she had expected, her pair royal easily topped her opponent’s jack.

She filed away the man’s action for the next time she played him; he was a man who thought he could win by bluffing. Not as easy to defeat as poor Mr. Collins, but not likely to win over the course of time. One needed more skills than just the ability to lie, including a healthy respect for the odds.

“Gentlemen, I believe it’s time to take a rest for a few minutes before we start a new game, don’t you?” She gave them a dazzling smile and rose without waiting for any response from her fellow players.

As she turned away from the table, there was the man she had noticed, holding out a glass of champagne to her. Desiree rarely drank while she played, but she found herself taking the glass from him. Her fingers grazed his; his skin was a little rougher than most gentlemen’s, and the feel of it against her own skin made her tingle.

Excitement quivered in her stomach. It wasn’t danger exactly, or at least not wholly that, for she could feel the simple rightness of him. It was more the way she felt right before she stepped out onto the tightrope—a little scared, but filled with eagerness. To cover the unaccustomed nerves suddenly dancing in her stomach, she took a sip as she regarded him over the top of her glass.

Up close she could see that his eyes were blue, though marked with crystalline striations radiating outward that gave his eyes a bright, penetrating quality. There was a small curved scar beside his mouth that intrigued her—indeed, his whole mouth intrigued her. He wasn’t handsome, exactly; his face was too puckish for that. He was...different. Interesting. And she wanted to keep on looking at him. For a long moment, she did exactly that.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” she said, wanting to know his name, wanting to hear his voice.

“No, this is the first time I’ve come here. But now I’m very glad I did.” He grinned, and a dimple popped into his cheek. Desiree’s pulse leaped in response.

“I hope you are enjoying your visit.” Her words were mundane but infused with meaning.

“Very much.” Like her, the look in his eyes said much more. “I wish I had come here before.”

“Perhaps you’d like to sit in on the next hand?” she offered. His presence would be far too distracting, but she wanted him to stay.

“No, I’m not much of a gambler. But I enjoy watching.” The glint in his eye made it clear that it was not the game that he wanted to see.

“Really? I would have guessed you were more a man who likes to participate,” Desiree replied archly.

There was no dimple this time, but a slow and rather wolfish smile, his eyes darkening a little. “I do...when the reward is worth the gamble.”

“So you must be sure that there’s no risk?” Unconsciously, she edged closer.

“No, sometimes the risk is the heart of the pleasure.” His eyes went to her lips, and he moved a degree nearer, bending a little toward her.

“Desiree?” Brock said, and she started, the moment broken. She turned to her brother and was surprised to find him standing only a yard away. She hadn’t noticed that he’d come into the room. Indeed, she had not noticed much of anything. “I think your table is getting a trifle restless.”

Brock was looking not at her but at the man she’d been flirting with, his hard gaze sizing him up. He’d picked the worst time to display his protective brotherly instinct. “Oh, yes, of course.” She took Brock’s arm, turning him and urging him toward the table with her. She cast a farewell smile over her shoulder at the man whose name she still didn’t know, much to her annoyance. She leaned toward Brock and said in a low voice, “Don’t you dare embarrass me.”

“Me? How would I embarrass you?” He gazed at her in a puzzlement she recognized as feigned.

“I’m not sure. But you were looking distinctly antagonistic toward him.”

“Who is that man? You could have at least introduced us.”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “And don’t you interrogate him, either. I like him, and I’m not going to have you scaring him off.”