High Stakes Chattel by Andie Blue Page A

for the very first time.
    Love? The thought gave him a pause, but he quickly shook the thought away. He was not in love with the lovely young Mrs. Blake. She intrigued him, yes. And he wished he could sleep with her. But he didn’t think this small obsession he had with her was love.
    As they rounded the lake and entered the clearing, he gained on her, riding dangerously fast in an insane need to beat her. Perhaps, if he did, he could capture her and …
    Unfortunately, she reached the trees first, jumping off her horse and beaming up at him with sheer victory in her eyes. “I won,” she cried. “I told you I would.”
    “You played on my weakness,” he murmured, sliding down off the chestnut and peering down at her with mock indignation. “You seduced me with those indecent trousers and then took off while I was distracted by thoughts of peeling them off you.”
    She laughed breathlessly, that beautiful blush staining her cheeks. “I did no such thing. It’s not my fault if you let yourself be…distracted.”
    He loved that she had not been offended or embarrassed by his daring words. Instead that challenge remained in her sparkling eyes, and he knew she felt the attraction between them as deeply as he did.
    Wondering again how he should bring up the subject of Lady Morgan, he cleared his throat and turned to grab the picnic basket he’d secured to his saddle.
    “ Would you like to see your winnings?” he asked, spreading out a heavy wool blanket on the ground, and then laying out the hearty lunch Mrs. Lotte had prepared. She’d sent along some cold herbed chicken, a fresh loaf of rye bread, a various assortment of cheese and crackers, plus the famed cherry tarts. 
    “This looks delicious.” Samantha sat on the blanket and began loading up her plate with very unladylike portions. He loved that. She did everything with such enthusiasm, without any false modesty or worry about impropriety. And she didn’t hesitate to show her enjoyment. The soft sound of pleasure she made when she bit into the tart sent a bolt of energy through him. God, how he wanted to lick the cherry off her lips.
    To distract himself, he gave into his curiosity. “Do you miss your husband very much? It’s only been, what, a year since he died?”
    She gave him a hurt look and put down the tart. “I know my behavior must seem awfully cold, but I didn’t know him that well. We were only wed a few months, and during that time he was gone more often than not. To be truthful, I think he only wed me to anger his mother.”
    “Why would you think that?” Nico looked at her with curiosity.
    “His mother was very controlling and had paraded him in front of the ladies of the ton, searching for the perfect bride to fit a future Earl.” She looked down, obviously feeling self-conscious about being used like a pawn in a game, but continued her story. “A farmer’s daughter who didn’t know how to hold her tea correctly and had dirt under her nails was not his mother’s idea of a good match but it stopped her matchmaking.”
    Samantha fiddled with her napkin as she remembered Henry. “I tried to be a good wife to him, I truly did want to get to know him, but he had no interest in that, no interest in me, beyond the physical.”
    Ah. That was what he’d been curious about, whether or not the marriage had been consummated. “Did you enjoy the physical part of your marriage?” he asked her, knowing it was none of his business, but wanting to know.
    She gave him a chiding glance. “That is none of your business, Lord Chattel.”
    He felt bad for making her uncomfortable . He wasn’t always the smoothest with his choice of words, preferring to be direct.
    He noticed her shivering slightly. “Would you like another blanket?”
    “Yes, please,” she replied.
    He finished eating, wiped his mouth with the napkin and produced another blanket from the basket. “I haven’t told you that I am courting someone,” he said, anxious to get the