Jo Beverley - [Malloren] by Devilish Page B

hearts.”
    Diana watched the cards instead of him, as everyone discarded low. “Not King of Hearts?” she asked lightly as she gathered their trick.
    “Perhaps that, too,” he said, playing the card.
    As she placed those cards in front of her, she looked straight at him. “Oh, do say you have the
knave
as well, my lord.”
    His lips twitched. “Whatever I have, I play low.”
    The play came toward her. There was no way he could know she held the queen, but when she played it—her only remaining heart—she felt as if he had forced the move. She was also aware during the rest of the hand of speculative interest from his brother and sister on either side.
    Plague take the man, he was flirting with her! Why? Whatever his reasons, plague take her own absurd reaction. She took the last trick and smiled calmly at him. “Our hand, love or not.”
    He gathered the cards and shuffled, long fingers deft within the froth of lace, one large ruby flashing in candlelight. Aware of staring at their beauty, of sudden curiosity about how they would feel in contact with her skin, she looked down at her own hands, glittering ring on every finger.
    He began to deal. “I do not insist on my rules in your house, Lady Arradale. If you would prefer to play for stakes …”
    She met his eyes, smiling calmly. “Not at all, my lord. The pleasure of the game is in the skill of it.”
    “My thought entirely, my lady,” he said as he picked up his hand. “And you play very skillfully indeed.”
    Heart suddenly pounding, Diana swallowed and fixed her attention firmly on her cards. Skillful or not, she was too sensible to play flirtatious games with him.
    Three days, though.
    Despite her new friendship with Elf, Diana wished the three days over.
    She and the marquess won decisively. They had the luck of the cards, but there was also a fine meshing of skills, almost an ability to read each other’s mind. She’d seen Elf and her brother exchanging more looks, and had wanted to protest,
This is nothing. This is just good card play.
    She wasn’t sure that was true, however, so by the time she went up to bed, her nervousness about his bedchamber had reached the snapping point. It was just a room, and someone had to sleep in it, but still, as her maid stood waiting to undress her, she looked at the adjoining door, wishing she could see through it.
    On this side the door was gleaming mahogany inlaid with decorative woods. On the other side, she knew, it was sparkling white paint with flower decorations on the panels, and details picked out in gold.
    Beyond the door lay a lady’s bedchamber of the most flowerytype. The colors were all white, pink, and gold, with shell-pink draperies swagged up by plaster cupids. It had been created for her mother and kept unchanged through the years, perhaps in memory of magical times.
    What was his reaction?
    Curiosity warred with caution, and curiosity won.
    After all, the marquess had been coming upstairs not far behind her. He could hardly have undressed already.
    She turned the key and knocked.
    After a moment, the door opened, and he stood there coatless. His cravat was still tied, his waistcoat still buttoned, and yet with the full sleeves of his shirt exposed, he seemed shockingly underdressed.
    And mildly, but forcefully, astonished.
    Diana swallowed and put on a hostess’s smile. “I hesitate to disturb you, my lord, but I did want to be sure you had everything you required.”
    His eyes rested on her a moment, then moved behind, where she knew he could see her bed, dark, solid, and masculine. He, on the other hand, was framed by white, pink, and gold. In dark gray waistcoat and breeches, and with that other essential darkness which surrounded him, he was truly midnight in lace.
    “The hospitality of Arradale is perfect as always, my lady.”
    Oh, perdition. This had been folly and was now embarrassing, but to rush away and slam the door would make it more so. “We had to use every room, my lord. I