Free Teresa Medeiros - [FairyTale 02] by The Bride, the Beast

killed my father. Of course, that wouldn’t have been such a tragedy, since the ill-tempered old goat has always considered me the most wretched disappointment of his life and his death would have made me a viscount. But all of his assets are tied up in entailed land, and a fat lot of good a title would have done me while I was rotting away in debtors’ prison.”
    Gwendolyn shook her head. “Please don’t tell me the Dragon paid off your gambling debts.”
    “Not exactly.” A rueful smile played around Tupper’s mouth. “But he did engage the marquess in a game of dice that went on until dawn.” He shook his head. “I’ve never seen a grown man so close to tears as the marquess was when he realized he had no chance ofrecouping his losses. And I can assure you they were quite staggering. As the sun began to rise, my new friend turned around and handed me his winnings. I then handed them back to the marquess to pay off my debts in full. When he realized what we’d done, he tore up my vowels and hurled them in our faces, shouting that he hoped we choked on them.”
    “The Dragon didn’t keep any of the winnings for himself?”
    “Not so much as a ha’pence.”
    Gwendolyn stopped chewing. “So why would such a benevolent soul choose to prey upon villagers who have little more than the rags on their backs? Does he need the money to pay off his own gambling debts?”
    Tupper let out a bray of laughter. “I should say not. Why, there are some who say he’s one of the wealthiest men in—” He snapped his mouth shut, his mustache twitching guiltily. She could almost see his round, guileless face withdrawing into its shell.
    He sprang to his feet and began to back away from the bed. “He warned me about you. He told me you were more clever than I am by half and I should take care to guard my tongue whenever I was around you.”
    Gwendolyn scrambled to her feet, narrowly averting disaster when she tripped over the hem of the sheet. “Surely you can’t blame me, Mr. Tuppingham, for seeking to learn something of the man who has made me his hostage. Please don’t go, I implore you!”
    Tupper shook a finger at her. “He warned me about that, too. Told me if you couldn’t outwit me, you’dprobably try to charm me with those dimples and that pretty mouth of yours.”
    Gwendolyn was accustomed to being blamed for her intelligence, but no one had ever before accused her of being pretty or charming. “He said such a thing?”
    Tupper fumbled in the pocket of his frock coat, drawing forth paper, pen, a flask of sand, and a bottle of ink. “He told me to leave these with you. Said you should make a list of everything you require.”
    He tossed the items on the bed and dove for the panel, leaving her alone once again. Gwendolyn recognized the stationery. It was the same expensive vellum the Dragon used for his demands.
    She caressed the creamy sheaf between thumb and forefinger, lost in thought. Despite their recent encounters, she was no closer to divining the Dragon’s true nature than she’d been last night. If she could just remember what she had seen in that courtyard…. But the memory continued to elude her, leaving her with nothing but the conflicting truths she’d learned since then. He was a gambler who gave away his winnings, a bully who took exquisite care not to pull her hair, a thief who had her completely at his mercy, yet had made no attempt to steal her innocence.
    Sinking down on the bed, she brushed her thumb against her lower lip, just as the Dragon had done earlier. What in heaven’s name was wrong with her? She was beginning to feel as witless as Nessa. Instead of being outraged by his impertinence, she was yearning for a mirror for the first time in her memory.
    Shaking off the ridiculous longing, she uncapped the ink, dipped the pen into it, and began to scribble. If the Dragon was intent upon keeping her as his prisoner, then she would see to it that he paid dearly for the pleasure of her