Read Online Submitting to Lord Rockwell by Em Brown - Free Book Online

Chapter One
     
    Deana could muster no oath strong enough to reflect the
dismay she felt when Lord Halsten Rockwell revealed his ace and queen. She
glanced at her own cards, a king and a ten, to ascertain she had indeed lost.
How was it possible? Rockwell had been losing all night.
    “You owe me fifty pounds, Miss Herwood,” Lord Rockwell
stated placidly as he collected the winnings in the middle of the table. It
included a chit signed in her own hand.
    She suppressed a glower, for she would not be dubbed bitter
in defeat. It was evident from his immaculate dress—a perfectly tied cravat, a
waistcoat sewn from the finest silk and a coat cut to fit his broad shoulders
in tight embrace—that Rockwell had not her situation and was not in dire need
of funds. She watched him replace a beautiful onyx ring upon his hand and found
herself regarding his rugged fingers. She had never before paid much heed to a
man’s hand—or a woman’s for that matter—but his conveyed strength, agility and
even gentleness.
    Dismissing the odd warmth that flared in her of a sudden,
she glanced about the gaming hell for someone she might harry to lend her fifty
quid. But the hour was late, the patrons at her table had left half an hour
ago, and many of those remaining had debts themselves to pay. If only she had
quit while ahead, but she had derived too much satisfaction from besting a man
who possessed all that she did not—wealth, refined features and a quiet
assurance that bordered on arrogance.
    “I will repay you from my next winnings,” she informed
Rockwell.
    “I have a better repayment option for you, Miss Herwood.”
    She raised her brows and waited patiently as he returned his
purse to his coat. He looked across the card table at her. His dark-brown eyes
reflected either the light of the candelabras or some inner merriment. His
stare unsettled her, but not as much as what he said next.
    “I would have you in my bed, Miss Herwood. For one night, I
will take my pleasure of you, after which, your debt to me will be acquitted in
its entirety.”
    “You would make of me a whore?” she asked when she had
collected her wits and realized that he did not speak in jest. No one would
mistake her family for members of the ton , but neither did her status
merit such an affront.
    “Let us have no pretentions, Miss Herwood. You relinquished
your maidenhead years ago.”
    Her cheeks—nay, her entire countenance—flushed to know that
he was privy to such confidence. Younger and more impulsive, she had
surrendered her maidenhead to a man she thought would care for her. A colonel
in His Majesty’s Army, he was called to service before their affair could
blossom into anything of consequence. Having lost her honor, she saw no reason
subsequently not to indulge in the occasional affair, but she had always
proceeded with great discretion. Her family had already suffered a fall from
grace when she became a regular at the gaming hell, and she would not worsen
the situation with more scandal.
    Holding his gaze, she replied, “You overestimate the appeal
of your company, Lord Rockwell. I would sooner double my obligation.”
    “Suit yourself,” he said with dispassion and rose to his
feet.
    She considered how many hands of vingt-et-un she
would have to win to secure fifty pounds and the litany of woes she would hear from
her mother and aunt should she fail to bring home any income. They were a
household of women since her father passed away, and the want of a man was
never more palpable than now. If she could erase a debt of fifty pounds through
one act—one night—might she be a fool to pass upon such an opportunity? As Lord
Rockwell’s barefaced assertion indicated, she no longer had any claim to a
maiden’s honor.
    But what did she know of the man? Very little. He was not a
frequent patron of her gaming hell. They had perhaps shared a card table once
before; he had not taken much notice of her then. She, however, had not
overlooked his