Page 85 of Rules for a Wicked Wager

He hadn’t realized he was lost in his memories until her hand soothed his cheek. Instinct made him flinch away. Sometimes the softest touch was the most dangerous. But then he saw who caressed him. He remembered where he was and dragged his attention back to the present.

“It was terrible, wasn’t it?” she asked.

“Yes.” He swallowed, needing to rush through the rest. “Once I realized my mere presence and title were not enough, I fell back on what I understood. What I was good at.”

He waited for her to catch up. It didn’t take her long.

“You are a gentleman well skilled at…what gentlemen know.”

“Which is?”

“Riding, gambling. Swiving.”

He smiled at the way she said that last word. Her chin had lifted, as if she dared him to argue with her use of the word. He didn’t, because he liked hearing scandalous words on her lips. “I was also good at wrestling. Hand to hand, like the Greeks.”

She nodded. “You gambled for the money?”

“Yes. Cards, horse racing, and wrestling were my best choices, but I learned other skills.”

“Knife throwing.”

He wasn’t likely to forget her surprised expression when he’d thrown his dagger in Hyde Park.

She dropped her hand onto his leg, still leaning forward as she studied him. “And that worked. Betting with the maharajas for the money they owed.”

“For the most part, yes.”

“But did you never lose?”

“I did. Often at first, but I got smarter. Better. And then there were my thieving skills.”

“Are you a good thief?”

“Yes. Though there are some who are much, much better.” He shrugged. “I employed a few to be part of my personal guard.”

“Ah.” She was impressed by his cleverness. She didn’t understand that he’d had to be clever or die. “So you won the money. And did they pay?”

“Yes. That is something we English share with the Indians. Publicly, they always pay their gambling debts.”

“And privately?” Her hands tightened on his thigh. “Did they rob you of it?”

“Often. Which is how I first learned to thieve. I had to steal the money back.”

“That’s amazing.”

He supposed it was. Given how incredibly unprepared he’d been, it was astonishing that he’d survived, much less thrived. But he’d learned quickly and fought desperately. “I did not do honorable things, Mari.” His honor had been the first and easiest casualty of his life in India.

“I suspect you were as fair and honest as possible in the situation.”

He didn’t quibble with her words, even though she was wrong. “There are things I don’t fully remember,” he said, barely realizing he spoke at all. “Times I lost all sense of…everything.”

He drew her fingers to his mouth, kissing them as if she were his lifeline in a stormy sea.

“You survived and came out stronger.”

He shook his head. Did she not know how fragile he felt? A scent could drag him back into his memories. Fetid water, heavily spiced food, the manic laughter of a trapped man. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, he was caught unprepared, and the experience always left him shattered.

“You have just returned,” she said, her fingers stroking across his face. “Perhaps you need more time to remember who you were.”