In any con--which was certainly what this was, or at least what this had been--there came a moment when the cracks started to show. The mark, who after being read and roped and hooked had been allowed to win for a while, would finally begin to lose. This was the breakdown, the point at which the goal became getting the mark to double-down on her investment so that the grifter could take her for all she was worth before giving her the blow-off. This was the moment in which a man who'd just lost a ten-spot on an "unlucky" round of three-card monte might be persuaded to put down his last tenner to try to win it all back, for instance. Or when a duped bride, who'd recently learned that her husband wasn't quite the success he'd claimed, might be fooled into having her daddy send "just a little more" money in order to set things right "once and for all." Because surely, surely she hadn't been a total fool to fall for him, right? Surely there was something real there.
This was the phase toward which Jack was supposed to be gradually maneuvering Marie.
So that shiver of hers should have turned his smile sharp; he should've seen it as proof that she was still very much under his control and that all would be well. His sweet, lovely, trusting little wife, who'd given up her heart and a good chunk of her father's fortune just because someone had gazed lovingly into her eyes and sworn that she was special. He should have thought less of her for her responsiveness, just as he'd thought less of her in New York every time she'd let him take her hand. She was just a mark, and she was behaving precisely as a mark should.
Instead, he found it oddly enticing. To be surrounded by a crowd, and to have her physically responding to him like she liked his lips against her ear? To feel once again as unstoppable as he'd felt on the day she'd accepted his proposal? It was exhilarating. His fingers tightened a little more against her back, though he was still smiling, well aware of how conspicuous they were in the center of the room.
"Oh, I learned all that after, of course." Around them, people skipped and cavorted and pranced with the music, and Jack made sure he and Marie kept up with them. Their feet flew; her skirts swished; everything was just as it should be. But the quickening of his pulse had nothing to do with the dancing. He wanted to feel her shiver again. To see her smile up at him and know that she meant it. "When I was inquiring as to the character of a certain young lady who'd quite stolen my heart." He pulled back enough to be able to see her face, and his own expression was all amusement and affection. "I'll have you know I was sternly warned that you'd eat me alive. Which, naturally... Only made me like you better."
One brow arched, teasing her. "You don't think they misled me, do you? Sold me a lion but gave me a lamb?"
no subject
In any con--which was certainly what this was, or at least what this had been--there came a moment when the cracks started to show. The mark, who after being read and roped and hooked had been allowed to win for a while, would finally begin to lose. This was the breakdown, the point at which the goal became getting the mark to double-down on her investment so that the grifter could take her for all she was worth before giving her the blow-off. This was the moment in which a man who'd just lost a ten-spot on an "unlucky" round of three-card monte might be persuaded to put down his last tenner to try to win it all back, for instance. Or when a duped bride, who'd recently learned that her husband wasn't quite the success he'd claimed, might be fooled into having her daddy send "just a little more" money in order to set things right "once and for all." Because surely, surely she hadn't been a total fool to fall for him, right? Surely there was something real there.
This was the phase toward which Jack was supposed to be gradually maneuvering Marie.
So that shiver of hers should have turned his smile sharp; he should've seen it as proof that she was still very much under his control and that all would be well. His sweet, lovely, trusting little wife, who'd given up her heart and a good chunk of her father's fortune just because someone had gazed lovingly into her eyes and sworn that she was special. He should have thought less of her for her responsiveness, just as he'd thought less of her in New York every time she'd let him take her hand. She was just a mark, and she was behaving precisely as a mark should.
Instead, he found it oddly enticing. To be surrounded by a crowd, and to have her physically responding to him like she liked his lips against her ear? To feel once again as unstoppable as he'd felt on the day she'd accepted his proposal? It was exhilarating. His fingers tightened a little more against her back, though he was still smiling, well aware of how conspicuous they were in the center of the room.
"Oh, I learned all that after, of course." Around them, people skipped and cavorted and pranced with the music, and Jack made sure he and Marie kept up with them. Their feet flew; her skirts swished; everything was just as it should be. But the quickening of his pulse had nothing to do with the dancing. He wanted to feel her shiver again. To see her smile up at him and know that she meant it. "When I was inquiring as to the character of a certain young lady who'd quite stolen my heart." He pulled back enough to be able to see her face, and his own expression was all amusement and affection. "I'll have you know I was sternly warned that you'd eat me alive. Which, naturally... Only made me like you better."
One brow arched, teasing her. "You don't think they misled me, do you? Sold me a lion but gave me a lamb?"