But first she had to find a partner, preferably one who would help her win. She didn't waste a second persuading Reggie-he could barely remember the suits. Smiling reassuringly, trying to ease his concern, she turned to survey the tables at which all activity had ceased.

There had to be some gentleman willing to come to her aid…

Her heart plummeted. There was no lighthearted interest, none of the game-to-be-part-of-any-lark expressions she'd expected to see. Calculation, raw and undisguised, filled every man's eyes. The equation they were weighing was easy to grasp: How much would she give to be rescued from Connor?

One glance was enough. To them she was a succulent, innocent pigeon ripe for a plucking. Exhilaration deserted her; a deadening, sinking feeling dragged at her.

Given the precise words of their wager, she was confident she had Connor's measure, but if, in order to satisfy her pride, she took one of these men as her partner, where would that leave her at the end of the game?

Triumphant regardless of the outcome, but with another, possibly more dangerous debt hanging over her head.

She met eye after eye; her heart sank to her slippers. Surely there was one gentleman honorable enough to partner her purely for the hell of it?

Smiles slowly dawned; chairs scraped. A number of gentlemen stood…

It would have to be Reggie, no matter how much she had to plead.

As she turned to him, the attention of the gentlemen facing them was deflected, caught by some sight in the shadows behind them, deeper in the room.

Both she and Reggie turned.

Something large stirred in the gloom.

A dark shape rose from a chair at the end of the room-a man, broad-shouldered and tall. With a languid grace all the more compelling, given his size, he walked unhurriedly toward them.

The shadows fell from him as he neared; light reached him and illuminated details.