She smiled, her beautiful blue eyes softening behind her spectacles. “Don’t you see, Jasper? You’re all I care about as well.”
He shouldn’t like the words. Shouldn’t ache for them. But he did, of course.
She moved toward him, and he would have opened his arms and taken her to bed then and there if Temple hadn’t stepped in, looking anywhere but at them. “Can’t you two have your private moments in private? Without me near?”
The words served as a reminder of where they were. Of the danger she was in. He turned to face the room, searching for Knight, finding him, fury in his gaze as he watched the floor, sensing with the keen understanding of a man who had done this for his entire life that something was wrong. That there was too much glee on the floor. Too much winning.
His gaze settled on Cross’s over the crowd, and knowledge flared in the older man’s eyes. He turned and gave instructions to his pit boss, who took off at a run—likely for fresh dice and decks—before Knight started toward them, determination in every step. Cross faced Pippa. “You must go,” he said. “You cannot be caught. You’re to marry tomorrow. I shall take care of this.”
She shook her head. “Absolutely not. This is my plan—crafted for you. For Lavinia. To ensure that Knight can never do his damage again. I shall finish it.”
Ire rose. “Pippa, this is bigger than anything you can imagine. You did not plan for an exit. Knight is not worried. He knows that he will restore the tables to working order tonight, and all these people will stay and gamble back their winnings. Gamers do not stop at the top of their streak.”
She smiled. “You think I do not know that? Need I remind you that I learned about temptation from a very skilled teacher?”
Now was not the time to think of their lessons. He resisted the flash of skin and sighed at the words. “I think you could not have prepared for it. I think that, short of burning this place to the ground, there is no amount of coordinated planning that could convince five hundred gaming addicts to leave their winning tables.” He turned back to Knight, registering the old man’s movement. Closer. “And I think I’m through with this conversation. You will return home with Temple, and you will marry tomorrow, and you will live the life you deserve.”
“I don’t want it,” she said.
“You don’t have a choice,” he replied. “This is the last thing I will give you. And it is the only thing I will ever ask of you.”
She shook her head. “You don’t know what you’re asking!”
“I know exactly what I’m asking.”
I’m asking you to walk away before I find I can no longer bear to be without you.
He feared it might be too late, as it was.
“Leave, Pippa.” The words were a plea, coming on a wave of panic he did not care for. This woman had shattered his control, and he hated it. Lie. “I shall fix this.”
She shook her head. “You once promised that when we wagered at my tables, we would play by my rules.”
He wanted to shake her. “These are not your tables!”
She smiled. “But they are my rules, nonetheless.” She turned to Temple. “Your Grace? Would you do the honors?”
Temple lifted a finger to his thrice-broken nose and brushed the tip. From a hazard table nearby, a loud, innocent voice piped up, “My word! That’s a great deal of winnings!” Castleton. Stupid, simple Castleton was in on the plan . . . had they all gone mad?
Cross looked to Temple, who smirked and shrugged one shoulder. “The lady made the arrangements.”
“The lady deserves a sound thrashing.”
Pippa wasn’t watching him. “You don’t mean that.”
He didn’t, but that was beside the point.
Castleton was chattering again. “I hear that Knight doesn’t usually keep much cash on hand, though. I hope he’s enough to cash me out!”
There was a pause at the table as his words sunk in, then a mad dash for each man to collect his notes and winnings and rush to the cash cages. Within seconds, the shouts echoed through the room.
“Knight can’t cover the wins!”
“Cash out now, before it’s too late!”
“Don’t be left with blank notes!”
“You’ll lose everything if you don’t hurry!”
And like that, the tables were empty . . . they were all headed to the cash cages, where two startled bankers hesitated, not knowing how to proceed.
She’d thought of an exit. He should have expected it, of course. Should have known that Philippa Marbury would wage war like she did everything else . . . brilliantly. Eyes wide, he looked first to Pippa, then to Temple, who smirked, folded his arms, and said nothing.
It was remarkable.
She’d done it.
She was remarkable.
Cross caught Knight’s gaze, wide with shock before it slid to Pippa and narrowed in recognition, then fury.
But the club owner could not act on that anger . . . as he was too close to losing everything he’d built. He took to a tabletop once more, calling out affably, “Gents! Gents! This is Knight’s! We ain’t no haphazard organization! We’re well able to pay our debts! Get back to the tables! Play some more!”
His big grin was sinfully tempting.
There was a pause as the sheep turned to their shepherd, and for one moment, Cross thought the desire to win would run the tables.
Until Castleton saved them all, the earl’s clear, disarming voice rising above the crowd once more. “I’d just as soon have this money now, Knight . . . then I know you’re good for it!”