Free One Night Is Never Enough by Anne Mallory

her, popping the balloon. She pictured her father’s fear when speaking about the man in front of her. The fear on his face now, even with his pride badly damaged. And still, he had bet his honor, and her, in a game with a man who terrified him.
    “Let this thing be done . ” Charlotte’s voice was hard. The taunting words curled, like a demon whispering in her ear. Remove the bone. Be free. “This childish bickering ended.”
    Charlotte straightened and folded her arms stiffly over her chest, unwilling to grab the extended hand, even in grim capitulation to it. Let none of them win here in this hall. “The matter settled. The marker completed. ”
    “Charlotte—”
    “Charlotte—”
    “No,” she said coldly, interrupting, finished with it all. “The bet will be fulfilled and completed. And then I expect none of you will speak of it again. Ever. Good evening.” She brushed by Roman Merrick, no destination in mind other than to get far away from the farce.
    She could hear the men arguing behind her, but she blindly turned the curve of the hall, then traced the steps that the scarred woman had followed. Hoping that her pride would save her. As one thing after another fell from her, it was her cold comfort to claim.
    Her father had almost sealed her fate. Trant had tried to seal her fate. Roman Merrick might attempt to do so.
    Just this once, Charlotte would damn well seal her own.

Chapter 5
    S he felt him pull even with her, but he wisely said nothing. One hand touched the small of her back to lead her, bringing forward every unnameable emotion and fear she had. They bypassed the room she had seen the previous woman emerge from—she couldn’t contain a hitched breath at the thought of the woman’s face—and instead climbed another set of stairs. The hall stretched and there only appeared to be two doors on the top floor.
    Using a strange key, he unlocked the one on the left and pushed the door open, gesturing for her to enter. She walked stiffly inside.
    The large space, one entire half of the building floor it seemed, was decorated in shades of deep blue, gold, and mahogany. A deep, inviting room with rich trim and a warm, thoroughly masculine, interior. Not exactly the cheap and tawdry place she had been expecting in this part of town.
    The room echoed the man, in a way. Solid, strong, and dark, shimmering with bursts of gold.
    “You continually surprise me, Miss Chatsworth. Or not so much surprise as please. ”
    She didn’t answer as the door closed behind her, the lock engaging, sealing her inside. The heavy edged shadows at the periphery of the gold were full of secrets.
    “You fit right in.” He moved around her, a whisper of wind catching and fluttering her veil.
    “Pardon me?”
    He motioned lazily to her dark navy coat as he sprawled in a plush chair that looked lumpy and worn, unlike the rest of the fine furniture. With the wall firmly behind it, it was obviously a well-used chair, placed in a circle with three others of various shapes and comfort levels, surrounding a table inlaid with oak and walnut squares.
    She could see another room, farther back, a hint of a navy-and-scarlet-patterned coverlet in view.
    She swallowed and walked to the high-backed chair across from him, a chair that looked much more ornamental and much less comfortable. She removed her cloak and carefully draped it over the back. She paused, swallowing again, and removed her veil.
    Not to do so would convey fear.
    “That is far better,” he said, eyeing her as he rolled a bauble under his fingers, across the hard surface. “It is a shame to cover such beauty.”
    “Mr. Merrick—”
    “Roman.”
    “—I realize you have far more experience in this sort of thing than I do—”
    “You think I win women every day?” He looked amused. The bauble spun.
    “—and,” she forged on, the fury from the hall giving way to nerves once more, as she realized exactly what she had done in her sudden unladylike rage. Now locked