Free A Christmas Wedding Wager by Michelle Styles Page A

need to say the only people who might consider the neckline daring were aged spinsters. 'I was quite looking forward to it, but then my father became ill. There are certain sacrifices that one has to be prepared to make. But I am unclear if you understand that.'
    'As both my parents died when I was young, perhaps I do not understand the nature of sacrifice--is that what you are saying?' Jack's eyes narrowed. 'I can assure you, Miss Harrison, that you are mistaken. I do understand why people feel compelled to look after others.'
    'You are putting words into my mouth!'
    'Forgive me.' Jack made a sketch of a bow, and the corners of his mouth relaxed slightly. 'I merely wanted to know why you did not want an evening's entertainment. As I recall, the Assembly Rooms held a great attraction once. A parent's health would not have concerned you.'
    'Such attractions die when one encounters real life.' Emma gave a little wave of her hand. 'I grew up, Mr Stanton, and realised there was more to life than dancing, society dinners and frivolity. As I said before, my interests now lie in other areas.'
    'And real life was...?'
    'My mother became ill. I discovered other things interested me far more than dancing slippers.' Emma stood up. She gave her most chilling nod, indicated the door. 'Mr Stanton, this conversation is pointless.'
    'Hardly that.' Jack cleared his throat and a superior expression appeared on his face. 'You have yet to say one word that proves to me you are not scared of going to the dance. It is more for your convenience than your father's that you have chosen not to go. You are afraid to polka. You are afraid people might whisper that the incomparable Miss Harrison is on the shelf.'
    'I care about my father.'
    'Then why have you forbidden him the dance?' Jack ticked off the points on his fingers. 'He is not ill enough to warrant the sale of the business, and you say you are not frightened of dancing, but you decline to prove it. We are at an impasse.'
    'You have not told me how your visit to the bridge went.' Emma looked at Jack. The shadows from the gaslight heightened his features. Maybe he was right, and she was using it as an excuse. Her dreams had been full of him last night, standing there, smiling his sardonic smile.

    She had no wish to feel his arms about her. Not here, in this enclosed space. Her breath was coming a bit too quickly.
    'But I have told your father.' A smile transformed his face from planes and shadows. 'I refuse the distraction, Miss Harrison. I am wise to your games. But, as you seem intent on playing, can I suggest an amusing alternative?'
    Amusing alternative? Emma swallowed hard. The conversation's direction was clear.
    'I suppose the price of obtaining information about the bridge is my guarantee that I will go to the dance and demonstrate I can polka?' she said, refusing to prolong his teasing.
    'We begin to understand each other, Miss Harrison. A polka for information. A fair exchange.'
    'You leave me little choice.' Emma's throat tightened around the last words.
    'It is not a death sentence, Miss Harrison. You used to enjoy the reels, as I recall.' His eyes narrowed. 'But you have not said you will go. One thing I learnt quite early on in my career is to have all the terms of the contract spelt out. It makes it easier for both parties.'
    'You have my agreement. I will go, and if there is a polka I will dance.' Emma faltered and tried again, this time with a much firmer voice as she banished all memories. 'Does that satisfy you?'
    'For the moment.'
    Emma passed a hand over her face as she got a sinking feeling in her stomach. What had she agreed to? She could always find an excuse not to go later, but now she wanted to know.
    What had he found out at the site? 'Now will you tell me what happened at the bridge?'
    Jack's black eyes danced with mischief. 'There is very little to say. Mudge has been most accommodating, and work is progressing.'
    'Your words are bland and give precious little