Edith Layton by The Challenge

play, I do play to win.”
    William’s eyes narrowed as Lucy’s widened.
    “But thank you for the offer,” Wycoff toldWilliam, with a sketch of a bow. “Some other time, perhaps?”
    “You’re staying on here, then?” William asked.
    “Certainly,” Wycoff said, though he wasn’t looking at William, but at Lucy.
    “Although you’ve a house just a few miles down the road from here?” William asked belligerently.
    “Even if I had two,” Wycoff laughed. “I’ve no staff, no servants, not even my valet with me. I’m a useless fellow, Mr. Bellows. Can’t turn a hand to a thing by myself. But I’ve found that most things worth doing are much more pleasurable done with company,” he added, looking at Lucy. “Except for reading, of course. But even there, a fair hand to turn the pages and plump up my pillow, or a soft voice to spare my eyesight. Now, if I had one of Mrs. Ames’s admirable staff at my personal beck and call, I’d certainly be tucked up in my own bed tonight, happier than any man has a right to be. But since I don’t—I must live in hope, mustn’t I?”
    Lucy stifled a gasp. And then a grin. That was the most outrageously seductive thing any man she’d ever met had ever said in polite company. So evocative her skin tingled. And he’d watched her all the time he was saying it, with such a warm, amused look. She went over what he’d said, lost in admiration at the sheer audacity of it, as charmed and flattered as she was made nervous. He was cool, smooth, and polished as her looking glass, and she had to remind herself that he probably gave back as much of his true self as it did.
    “No cards tonight,” Lucy said, looking at him, “no games of any sort for me, thank you.”
    Wycoff seemed amused by the veiled rebuff, inclining his head as if in acknowledgment of the hit.
    She nodded, pleased at his reaction. “So! I’m going to sleep, and you are too, Jamie,” she said to the empty air at the head of the stairs. “Good night, everyone. It’s been a long day. Unless there’s anything else you need of me, Cousin?”
    “No,” Mrs. Ames said. “It’s my bedtime, too. The company’s so interesting the time just flew by. But if any wish to remain here, stay long as you like,” she hastily assured her remaining guests. “Only be sure the fire’s banked if you’re the last to leave. We aim to be a fine hotel. But we try to treat you all as guests in our home.”
    “Now that would be a fine motto for over your door,” Wycoff said, “or on your stationery.”
    “Why, so it is! Do you really think so?” Mrs. Ames asked, turning to him, all aflutter.
    It was William’s chance to see Lucy alone. He seized it, and Lucy. “I need to talk with you,” he said, taking her by the wrist as she passed him on the way to the stair.
    “What?” she said, looking at her wrist in annoyance, and then at his face with growing alarm. “What is it?”
    “Not here,” he said.
    “Is something wrong?” she asked, suddenly alert.
    “Yes. Come with me. The library.”
    She hurried along the hall with him, and threw open the library door. It was a glorified name for Mr. Ames’s office, which had some books and ledgers, and a few shelves of novels the girls had finished reading that Mrs. Ames thought guests might like. But there was a fireplace glowing with the small fire kept burning every evening in case a guest should wander in. In the same hopeful spirit, a lamp on the desk was lit. The scant light gave the little room an intimate feeling the salon had lacked. It would have made Lucy nervous if she wasn’t already so worried. Dimly lit rooms gave men ideas. William was a man she’d been trying to keep in the light.
    “Tell me!” she begged him. “What’s wrong?”
    “This!” he said and, snatching her up in his arms, pressed a kiss on her lips.
    It was as unexpected as it was unpleasant. William’s mouth was hard and wet, the skin around his mouth bristly because of the lateness of