Free The Countess' Lucky Charm by A. M. Westerling Page A

came on board. Your money sack was almost empty when you put it back in your pocket.”
    Wonder at her acuity rushed through him. But why would it? As a thief she knew very well the value of money.
    “Not to worry about the wager, it is off without penalty.” He deliberately made his voice casual.
    “What?” She gaped at him. Was that disappointment or relief he saw in her eyes?
    He nodded. “Evidently, the captain’s wife has taken a shine to you. She’s been scolding him nonstop over what she perceives is his ill treatment of you. He was only too glad to let it go to spare himself. There is, however, one stipulation.”
    She cocked her head and looked at him.
    Relief, he decided, for she appeared much happier, the previous tautness of her face relaxed.
    “You must avoid the crew. Ladies of quality mingle with their peers, not with others not of their station.”
    She flushed and nodded. “I understand. No more card games. But what shall I do instead?”
    “You still have your sewing lessons with the captain’s wife. Besides, I should like to continue your instruction.”
    He meant every word. The wager may be over but that didn’t mean he couldn’t live up to his vow to teach her to become a lady of quality.
    Astonishment flooded her eyes. “But the wager is over.”
    “I am bored silly.” He lifted his hands. “I’ve nothing to do. I’ve read all the books in the ship’s rather limited library. Besides, I detest unfinished business.”
    A few splatters of rain sprinkled the deck, the breeze stiffened. The Annabelle bucked the growing swells and around them, crew members ran in organized pandemonium to furl the snapping sails. A storm brewed.
    “Shall we go below deck?” He held out his arm.
    “Aye, but you go ahead. I’ve things to tidy.” Cards fluttered in the breeze and she pounced on them, slipping them into her pocket. Then she gathered up the coins and palms cupped, held them out to him. “For you.”
      Sudden suspicion nudged him. “Where did you get the ante?”
    She coloured. “I, ah, I borrowed a shilling. From you.”
    “Bloody hell.” The oath erupted from his very core. He should have realized she knew where he had hidden his money pouch. They did, after all, share a cabin.
    He didn’t know whether to paddle her bottom or congratulate her on her success.
    He did neither. Rather, he did the one thing he had wanted to do since Petey had accosted her on deck.
    He kissed her.
    Buffeted by the wind and pelting rain, he pulled her close, wrapping one arm about her shoulder and tilting her head back with his free hand. Dimly, he heard coins bounce and roll away as her hands tried to push him away, fluttering uselessly against his strength. His mouth landed on hers, forceful, teasing her lips, nipping them until they parted.
    It was as if he had never kissed anyone before.
    The second his lips touched hers, serenity washed through him like dairy cream pouring from a pitcher, thick and sensuous and frothy. Awareness of his surroundings receded until there was only the feel of Simone in his arms. He lost himself in her essence, in her warmth.
    More. He wanted more.
    With a groan, he thrust his tongue into her mouth to tease hers, sucking, on and on until that cadence was matched by the cadence throbbing in his loins.
    Simone didn’t try to resist, couldn’t fight the attraction he had for her. With a whimper, she wrapped her arms around his neck and stood on tiptoes to get closer. Of their own volition, her eyes closed and she melted into him, drawn into his heat, his strength. She wanted to hold him forever, to feel his lithe body this close to hers forever. Time ceased to exist. All that existed was her and Temple, locked in an ageless battle. It was a heady sensation and she wished the moment would last forever. She moaned.
    Her moan was lost among the hoots, applause and catcalls of the watching crew. The sound must have distracted Temple for he pulled his lips away to look down at