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now turn your efforts toward a way to legally obtain the coin needed to cover this bet. For it seems rather certain that despite your flawless plan to emerge victorious, you shall instead be the losers in this wager.”

Three
    “What are you doing?” the sultry redhead asked as she turned her head languidly on the pillow.
    Trevor Morely, Marquess of Dardington, stiffened slightly at the sound of her voice. Yet he never hesitated as he tugged on his black evening trousers and began to calmly button them, half hoping if he ignored her, she would remain silent.
    “Darling, come back to bed,” the female voice insisted. “It won’t be light for hours, and my dreadful husband never returns until the dawn has broken.”
    Trevor lifted his head and gazed with a practiced eye at the naked woman sprawled among the bed linens. Lady Melody Ramsey was a sight to behold, with her tousled red hair, flushed face, and creamy white skin. It was rumored among the ton that she was able to do most anything a man could want or even imagine. After tonight, Trevor could testify that claim was not an exaggeration.
    Lady Ramsey’s expertise in the bedroom went beyond mere skill. She was inventive, aggressive and incredibly lovely. So why was he donning his trousers instead of removing them?
    “ ’Tis late, Melody.” He smiled gently, hoping to avoid a scene. “And I’m tired.”
    Trevor shifted restlessly, searching the moonlit room for the remainder of his clothing. He discovered his silver patterned waistcoat and linen shirt draped over a chair back, but could locate neither his stockings nor his shoes.
    “You shall hurt my feelings if you leave so soon,” Melody pouted. Her voice was playful, but there was expectation in it, too. She rolled off the bed in a quick, efficient movement and walked toward him, her heavy breasts swaying.
    Trevor grinned despite his mild annoyance. Her athletic mobility was one of the reasons he had found her such an exhausting bed partner—that, along with her seemingly insatiable sexual appetite.
    For a man who had spent the last eight years of his life intent only on forgetting, on living life for the moment, she was the perfect match. As with most of his women, she required little effort. No sweet phrases or coy wooing, no grand seduction or forceful embraces were needed to get her on her back.
    And yet after spending two nights in her bed, Trevor was already feeling restless—bored, almost, though given Melody’s inventive nature that seemed a ridiculous notion.
    She must have sensed his distraction. As she came within reach, Melody struck a provocative pose and gave a low soft moan. Instinctively Trevor braced himself, thinking she was going to fling herself at him.
    Instead she gracefully extended her arms, her eyes glittering with seductive intent. She touched his naked chest with the tips of her fingers, slowly gliding them down his torso until they came to rest on the top of his trousers.
    Trevor drew in a sharp breath when those nimble fingers stroked him through the fabric. With practiced efficiency, Melody slipped the first gold button free, then the second and third. Trevor’s mouth twisted, and he wondered how he was going to escape without mortally offending her.
    But the handsome marquess was too long in making up his mind. Without the protection of his garments, he was an easy target and Melody took full advantage of it. She greedily reached inside his open trousers with both hands, drawing him out. She stroked him slowly with her palm, finding his most sensitive places with unerring accuracy.
    “It appears you are not so very tired,” Melody pronounced with relish as she cupped his testicles, squeezing gently.
    Trevor shut his eyes. He briefly entertained the notion of stepping away from his insatiable partner, but she had dropped to her knees before him. One vigorous pull of her mouth destroyed any thoughts of leaving. She blew a stream of hot breath over his straining penis and