Page 20 of A Game of Hazard

She nodded. Although she knew how it worked in theory, she didn’t know the game well enough to undertake that role.

“Do you want to throw for your Main or just declare it?”

“I choose seven.”

He shot her an admiring look. “You understand about probability then? Seven is the number most likely to come up.”

“I told you I was good at arithmetic.”

“So, you did.” He smiled as he handed her the dice cup.

She rolled a four and a five. Not the best start.

“Nine is your Chance number.” He gathered up the dice and tapped them before pushing them back toward her. “Roll again. But not an eleven or a twelve, or you’ll be out automatically.”

What was the likelihood of her throwing a double six at such an early stage? So slim that she felt supremely confident of her win. Only—did she really want to win?

Without looking up, she could feel his gaze burning into her. The outcome of this game meant everything to him—did he really want her that much? She’d never felt wanted before. It overwhelmed her.

It was completely against the grain to want to lose. But as Alex took the cup in her hands and shook the dice, she sent out a silent prayer that they would add up to eleven or twelve. She closed her eyes and cast the dice onto the table.

CHAPTER 10

Giles let out a low whistle. “Well—I guess that’s cocked dice. You must throw again.”

One of the dice had fallen from the table to the floor, and the other had rolled against a book where it now balanced on one edge.

To Giles’s surprise, Alexandra made no move to pick up the dice.

“You said that this dice throw would be directed by Fate and that we must be governed by the result.”

He nodded. What was she playing at? Her mouth was firm, her expression solemn.

“Maybe this is the end result. There must be some other solution that we have not yet discovered. A compromise whereby neither of us feels that we have lost. Perhaps that’s what Fate is telling us.”

He stared. This was a positive development. Perhaps compromise was the way forward after all—he was prepared to sacrifice anything just to call her his.

“I fear I may be besotted with you, Miss Isaacs. I’m on the verge of abandoning all my principles in order to secure you. Does that sound idiotic?”

Her blue eyes were earnest. “Not in the least. I’m pleased that you think you like me. I’m not used to it.”

“I don’t think it. I know it.” And indeed, he did—when he’d thought her dead, his heart had been shattered. The brutal agony of that moment had revealed the truth—he was well and truly smitten.

His voice shook. “You may think that while I lingered for days on end in sight of your house, I was only trying to trap you or find evidence of your guilt. Certainly, that was part of it, but as time went on and I examined my feelings further, I discovered something unexpected. How I longed to glimpse you through a gap in the curtains or on your doorstep! You didn’t oblige me, which made my need to see you all the greater. You cannot imagine my horror when I received word of your demise. I thought my pursuit had driven you to it. Happily, that was not the case, for I would never have forgiven myself. I would never have felt whole again.”

She sighed. “A pretty speech, Captain. Whether or not it is true, I don’t know, but my heart urges me to respond with a similar declaration. However, in my present state, I don’t trust my feelings. Let us talk of practicalities, rather. But while we do, let me say that I wouldn’t object to you calling me Alexandra. ‘Miss Isaacs’ sounds too formal under the circumstances.”

“Alexandra.” The word tasted sweet on his tongue. “I’d be honored if you called me Giles. Now, sit beside me while we think of another way out of this tangle that will satisfy us both.”

Having her so close was a mistake. He wanted more than anything to take her in his arms and kiss every freckle on her face and experience the delight of her slender body crushed against his. Trying to concentrate under such circumstances would be impossible.

How could they find a safe way forward that didn’t deprive his sisters of their dowries or himself of the means to keep a wife? He pressed his fingertips together.

“You have legitimate businesses, as well as the illegal one, do you not?” He meant the Boar Tavern.

“The inn? Yes—it’s one of ours. The innkeeper and his wife are tenants. We own the Boar lock, stock and—”

He raised his hand. “Don’t say ‘barrel’. I’m still smarting from the way you outwitted us when we raided the premises. Pray, tell me—was there no concealed contraband at all? Was our informant—presumably Mr. Prowse—incorrect?”