A Reckless Match Page 14

  “Not at all.”

  He suddenly noted her shawl, and his eyes narrowed. “Where did you get that?”

  Maddie tightened her grip on it, holding the edges together across her chest. She turned to the older woman, only to find that Nanny Maude had disappeared.

  “Nanny Maude gave it to me. Or should I say, returned it to me.” She fixed him with an accusing glare, and his lips twitched into that half smile she knew so well.

  “I remember the day I stole it from you. You promised to bury me alive in quicksand.”

  “You flew it from the flagpole.”

  The grin grew wider. “The spoils of war. I knew you’d come close enough to see it. I always hoped you’d pluck up the courage to ride in here and reclaim it, but alas, you never did.” He shook his head in mock regret. “Such a disappointing adversary. I had dreams of you scaling the walls and breaking into my bedchamber to demand its return.”

  His expression was dreamy and wicked, and an image of the scenario he’d described flashed into her brain: of herself standing over him as he lay in bed, chest bare, sheets pooled around his hips. Of his eyes flashing open, his fingers shooting out to catch her wrist and topple her onto the bed. Of her body, trapped beneath his—

  She shook her head to dispel the disturbing thoughts. “You would have locked me up in a dungeon and never let me out,” she managed, only half joking.

  “I would have been tempted,” he agreed easily. “Although I’d have made it a very comfortable dungeon.” Something dark flashed in his eyes, as if he relished the thought of having her at his mercy, and her body reacted instinctively. She flushed hot and cold. “You might never have wanted to leave.”

  Flustered, she stepped up to the table and let the shawl drop from her shoulders, then immediately regretted it as his gaze slid over the pale expanse of her chest exposed by the daring neckline of her dress.

  His throat constricted above his cravat as he swallowed. “My compliments.” His voice was even deeper than usual. “That dress looks a hundred times better on you than it ever did on my sister.”

  He pulled out a chair and Maddie sat, conscious of his breath fanning her collarbone as he leaned over her to push her back in. He took his place opposite, and the table was so small she could feel the warmth of his knees almost touching hers.

  A silver posy vase held a spray of wildflowers, and a triple candelabrum sent a flattering glow across his face and hands. The atmosphere was private, intimate. Seductive.

  He’d changed his clothes too. A small gold stickpin twinkled in the folds of his snowy cravat, a sharp contrast with his navy jacket and buff breeches. He looked precisely like the suave London sophisticate she knew him to be, but the effect was ruined by the hint of a bruise that was developing on his jaw, and a cut she hadn’t noticed on his temple. He must have received them during his fight with the attackers.

  The hint of wildness amid the elegance produced a strange sensation in her belly. He was just like his home: a host of contradictions. By turns elegant and barbaric.

  She pursed her lips at her own foolishness. She needed to keep her head, not drool over his handsome face like some dumbstruck country bumpkin.

  Two servants appeared with the food, breaking the loaded silence that had fallen, and she nodded her thanks as her wineglass was filled with claret almost as red as her dress. She picked up her silverware, but Gryff sent her a teasing smile.

  “Can I propose a toast?”

  She paused, caught with knife and fork suspended over her lamb and roast potatoes. The beast. He just loved discomfiting her.

  He lifted his wineglass. “To friendly enemies.”

  She set down her cutlery and raised her own glass. “Friendly enemies.”

  They both drank, and her pulse fluttered as he watched her from over the rim of his glass. She cast about for a safe topic of conversation.

  “I’d love to see Tristan’s reaction to this place,” she said. “His hair would probably turn white. He likes order. Precision.”

  Gryff chuckled and began to eat. “Well, he won’t find it here. There isn’t a straight wall or a right angle in the whole place. He’d probably say we should tear it down and start again.”

  “Don’t,” Maddie said impulsively. “I like it.”

  He paused, as if she’d startled him, then carried on eating. “I live to please you, Miss Montgomery.” His tone was gently mocking, but she wasn’t sure if it was directed at her or himself.

  They ate in silence for a few moments, and then he said, “Both you and your brother have interests that begin with arch. Architecture for him, archaeology for you.”

  “Hmm. I’ve never thought about that before,” Maddie admitted with surprise. “But they’re not really related. Archaeology comes from the Greek words arkhaios, meaning ancient, archaic. Architecture is from archos, which means chief, or king. Like archbishop.”

  “And archenemy,” Gryff smiled. “The very best of enemies.” He took another sip of wine. “You’re a regular walking dictionary.”

  She flinched at his subtle mockery. She knew very well she was regarded as an overeducated bluestocking. But the fact that he’d brought up dictionaries was so perfect that she couldn’t let it pass. She took another fortifying sip of wine.

  “Speaking of dictionaries,” she said, as casually as she could, “my father told me about a volume of Samuel Johnson’s version he’d been trying to buy from your father for years.”

  “Really? My father never mentioned it.”

  “Apparently he had one half, and my father has the other.”

  “And he refused to sell, like the dog in the manger? That sounds like my father. He was a belligerent old bugger.”

  Maddie reminded herself of the power of the dress she was wearing. She was fascinating, a woman who could make a man agree to anything. She leaned forward, shamelessly offering a better view of her cleavage, and sent him a long, slow smile.

  “I was rather hoping I could persuade you to part with it.” She glanced at him from under her lashes in what she hoped was a provocative manner. “It’s Father’s birthday soon, you see. And I would love to surprise him with the second volume. He’d be thrilled to see the two halves reunited.”

  Gryff’s attention, as she’d hoped, slid to the mounds of her breasts. But as it lingered, she realized she was the one affected. Her chest rose and fell faster as she suddenly found it hard to breathe. His gaze was like a physical touch: Her nipples tightened within the bodice, and heat bloomed over her skin.

  She gave a delicate cough, and his gaze snapped back to hers. His eyes were almost black in the candlelight, and the stark hunger in his expression made her stomach swirl.

  He calmly replaced his silverware on the table and she echoed the movement, never taking her eyes from his.

  “Perhaps your father kept it in the library?” she suggested breathlessly. “Do you think we could look?”

  The scraping sound as he pushed back his chair was deafening in the quiet room. He stood, looming over her, and she leaned back, suddenly convinced he was going to bend down and grab her. Or kiss her.

  But he simply held out his hand. “The library it is, Miss Montgomery.”

  Chapter 24

  Maddie followed Gryff as he strode purposefully across the checkered hall—almost as if he was trying to get away from her—and entered an immense, two-tiered library. There was no sign of any servants; they seemed to have melted into the shadows.

  The candelabrum he’d lifted from the dining table barely illuminated the vast space, but she caught a brief, flickering impression of the ceiling: a painted sky filled with clouds and figures, and a railed balcony running around the upper floor.

  A burst of scholarly envy seized her. This was at least twice the size of the library at Newstead Park. What treasures did it hold? She could spend years in here.

  Her conscience, which had started to nibble at her for manipulating Gryff so outrageously, quieted. With so many books, he cert
ainly wouldn’t miss one half of one, would he? Whereas for the Montgomerys, that same volume could mean the difference between bankruptcy and salvation.

  He placed the candles on a gilded side table and turned to her within the narrow circle of light. “What are we looking for, again?”

  Maddie smoothed her hands down her skirts. “The second volume of Samuel Johnson’s dictionary, letters N through Z. First edition. It’s a large book, about this tall.” She held up her hands to indicate the size. “The binding’s brown leather, with gilt.”

  Gryff pushed at a wooden sliding ladder, forcing it sideways along the wall. The little wheels at the top squeaked as they ran along the metal track. “The reference section’s along here. Bring the light.”

  Maddie tried not to stare as he ascended a few rungs, giving her a tantalizing view of his long legs encased in his breeches. The soft fabric molded faithfully over taut, muscular calves and strong thighs. When he reached overhead, the tails of his jacket lifted and provided a mouthwatering glimpse of tight buttocks and slim hips.

  She clenched the stem of the candelabrum, resisting the urge to reach out and smooth her hand up the back of his legs. What was wrong with her? She’d never felt the urge to explore another body before. But he was like one of those spotted cats in the Royal Exchange: all lazy power and grace. Her fingers had itched to touch their fur and stroke their sleek length, regardless of the danger. Or perhaps because of it. To have something so dangerous purring under her touch.

  “Hold the candle still,” Gryff scolded from above. He tugged a volume from the shelf and held it up. “Is this it?”

  Maddie was sure her cheeks were a guilty pink from her ogling, but she managed to turn her gaze toward the book in his hands. It looked identical to the one Harriet had found at home. Excitement rose in her chest.

  “Yes, I think it is.”

  He handed it down and descended the ladder as she crossed to a gilded desk and opened the book to the title page. He moved to stand next to her, his shoulder brushing hers as they both glanced down, and the scent of him teased her nose.

  “This is the one,” she said, trying to hide her eagerness.

  His long fingers turned the page. “I remember this book. My brothers and I looked through it once, when we were younger. It was very disappointing.”

  “Disappointing? Why?”

  “Because Johnson was such a prude, he left out all the rudest words. Or most of them, anyway.”

  A scandalized laugh escaped her. “You looked?”

  “Of course we looked. That’s what thirteen-year-old boys do. We took great delight in discovering what he’d omitted. Obviously, because your family had the first half, we could only look for profanities in the second half.” He turned to her, laughing. “We found piss and turd.”

  Maddie rolled her eyes. “I’m sure Tristan did exactly the same.”

  “Then he would know that Johnson left in arse and fart, but missed out some of the finest words in the English language.”

  “Which ones?”

  He pursed his lips in mock disapproval. “You’ve already had one shock tonight. I’m not sure you can take any more.”

  She sent him an exasperated look. “I’m made of sterner stuff, my lord. Go on.”

  “Well, most of the words for the male reproductive member were ignored. Penis definitely isn’t in there. And human procreation is hardly mentioned at all.”

  “I can see how that would have been frustrating for a young man trying to educate himself,” she said drily.

  Maddie knew her cheeks were pink with embarrassment. This conversation was totally unsuitable to be having with anyone, let alone a scoundrel like Gryff Davies, but she couldn’t deny that she was enjoying herself. He was treating her as an equal, as one of the boys, and the idea that they might discuss any topic at all without her having to worry about being thought unladylike or outrageously forward was incredibly liberating.

  Still, enough was enough. She closed the cover of the dictionary with an audible thump. “Well, incomplete or not, I would still like to buy your half.”

  “How much are you offering?”

  She thought quickly and tried to sound offhand. To show too much interest would be fatal. “Well, neither half is worth very much on its own. So how about … ten pounds?”

  She had no idea where she’d get the money from, of course, but if she could just get him to agree to selling, she’d worry about the details later.

  His mouth curved at the corner as he gazed down at her. “Do you know, I think you’re trying to swindle me, Miss Montgomery. The two halves might not be worth much separately, but I bet once they’re back together they’ll be worth more than the sum of their parts.” He glanced down at the book. “This is a fancy binding. An unusual size. And a first edition. I bet there are plenty of collectors who’d be eager to get their hands on it when it’s complete.”

  Maddie cursed his perspicacity. Gryff Davies was no idiot.

  He paused and she held her breath, despite knowing he was doing it on purpose, to torture her.

  “I’ll accept a hundred pounds.”

  A disappointed whoosh of air escaped her. There was no way she could come up with that kind of money. Still, she feigned indifference with a little shrug.

  “That’s far too high. Forget I asked. I’ll get Father something else. A new snuffbox maybe.”

  His eyes twinkled and she had the infuriating suspicion that he knew exactly how desperate she was for that damn book, and was just playing with her. Could he somehow sense her eagerness?

  He rocked back on his heels. “I tell you what, I’ll play you for it.”

  She stilled. “What do you mean?”

  “All or nothing. We’ll play a game, and if you win, I’ll give you this half of the book.”

  Maddie narrowed her eyes, instantly suspicious. “And if you win, I have to give you the Montgomery half? No. I won’t do that.”

  “No. If I win—” His eyes flicked down to her mouth and her blood heated at the speculative look on his face. “If I win, I get … a kiss.”

  Her heart started to pound as she tried to sort through all the ramifications of his offer. Games of chance were notoriously risky, but she’d have a 50 percent chance of success. If she beat him, she’d get the book. And if she lost, she’d be in no worse position than now: still without the book, but having kissed Gryff Llewellyn Davies again.

  Which was exactly what she’d dreamed of doing ever since their interrupted moment at the beach.

  “All right, then.” Her voice was firm but breathy. “What shall we play? I don’t know many card games, so if that’s what you’re suggesting, you’ll have the advantage of me.”

  He’d gambled at the finest gaming houses in London. If he chose cards, she wouldn’t stand a chance.

  He sent her a lazy grin. “You’re right. A card game would be unfair. I don’t want you saying I won because I cheated.”

  She scowled at his arrogant confidence that he would be the victor.

  “And games of chance are boring,” he continued. “There’s no skill involved.” He tilted his head and eyed her speculatively. “I have it! A game of wits. And in keeping with the spirit of the prize, how about a word game?”

  “Go on.”

  “How about a game using words from the dictionary? Does that sound fair?”

  “I suppose so,” she said slowly. It sounded innocent enough, but she didn’t trust the look on his face. It was too full of amusement, of self-satisfied humor. Gryff Davies was up to something.

  He gestured toward a pair of wing chairs grouped in one of the window embrasures, and Maddie accepted the offer to sit. She sank into the deep-red velvet upholstery and spread her skirts as Gryff took the chair opposite her and leaned back, casually crossing one booted foot over his knee.

  “All right. The rules. For this game you’re only allowed to give answers that start with letters found in your half of the alphabet, letters A through M.”

>   “How do we play?”

  “It’s a matching game.” His sly, cat got the cream smile had her instantly on her guard. It was the same smile he’d always had before he pulled some dastardly trick on her as a youth. Like when he’d tied her to a tree, or stolen her shoes while she waded in the stream.

  “There are multiple words for saying the same thing, correct? So I’ll say a word, and all you have to do is match it with one that means the same thing from your half of the alphabet.”

  “That doesn’t sound too difficult.” Maddie tried to imagine the catch. He probably meant to come out with all sorts of complicated, Latinate words to confuse her. Or soldiering terms.

  “One point for each word you can match. If you reach ten points, you win the dictionary.”

  “And if I can’t think of an equivalent?”

  “Then you lose, and it’s a kiss.”

  Maddie feigned indifference, even as her heart beat faster. “I should warn you, my vocabulary is excellent.”

  “A bluestocking like you? I should hope so. But I’m still going to win.”

  Chapter 25

  “Wait,” Maddie said abruptly. “What’s to stop you making up spurious words? I’ll never know the difference.”

  He looked comically offended. “You have my word of honor as a gentleman.”

  She pursed her lips and tried not to laugh. He really was fun to tease. “Fine. I suppose I’ll just have to trust you.”

  “Good. All right, we’ll start with something easy.” His gaze dropped to her lips, and they tingled as if she could actually feel the touch. “For one point, give me another word for … mouth. Answers starting A to M, remember.”

  “Lips.”

  “Hmm. Not an exact synonym, but I’ll take it.” His gaze slid over her chin, and downward. “Number two: a word for throat.”

  Maddie swallowed, well aware that he watched the muscles contract as she did so. Heat rose on her skin. “Neck?”

  “Wrong half of the alphabet.”

  Damn. “Ummm. Gullet?”

  His lips twitched. “Rather unromantic, but it’ll do.”