Lover by Chance

By Debra Glass

Mississippi riverboat gambler, Jedidiah Nash, knows he’s a scheming bastard. After defeating Richard Laurent at cards, the two come to a scandalous agreement. The stakes? Laurent’s wife for one night.

Jed has no intention of bedding the married Creole beauty. Instead, he expects to part her from the rest of Laurent’s money in exchange for her virtue.

Angry at her abusive husband for gambling her away, Elena Laurent concocts a scheme of her own. And after one night in a stranger’s arms, she might just be playing for keeps.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Debra Glass
• Release date: Oct 22, 2015
• ISBN: 9781519923363

Debra Glass

DEBRA GLASS is the author of over thirty-five books of historical and paranormal romance, non-fiction, young adult romance, and folklore. The recipient of the National Society of Arts and Letters Alabama Screenwriter Award in 1992, she went on to win the NSAL Empire State Award for excellence in screenwriting. She holds an MAed with emphasis in history from the University of North Alabama.Debra is a member of Romance Writers of America and the Professional Authors’ Network. She is also a member of RWA’s Heart of Dixie and Southern Magic Chapters.She lives in Alabama with her real life hero, a couple of smart-aleck ghosts, and a glaring of diabolical black cats.

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IMPRINT: Erotic Romance

LOVER BY CHANCE

Copyright © 2010 by Debra Glass

First E-book Publication: July 2010

Cover design by Patricia Pickyme Schmitt

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

LOVER BY CHANCE

DEBRA GLASS

Copyright © 2010

Chapter One

Aboard Belle Creole, Mississippi, 1852

Jedidiah Nash laid his hand down on the table. His winning hand.

His opponent, Richard Laurent, paled. He tugged at his neck cloth. Wait. Double or nothing. I’ll put up the deed to my farm.

Jed sized the man up. Experience told him Richard was at the end of his tether. And you just happen to have this deed with you, Jed stated.

Laurent raked a trembling hand through his brown hair. Well…no. But—

Jed flashed an easy smile at the feather

s-

an

d-

velve

t-

adorned waitress who offered to pour his shot glass full. Again. No thank you, Jenny.

He gained his feet. I’ll take that key, Monsieur Laurent.

The other gamblers all gaped at Richard.

Jed leaned over the table to grind out his cigar in the ashtray. Are you going to break the news to Madame Laurent or shall I?

Richard’s face blushed crimson. He jammed his hand into his pocket. Instead of withdrawing the key, he pulled a pistol.

With lightning speed, Jed drew his Derringer and fired. Richard’s weapon flew from his hand. He gaped and shook his hand. You nearly shot me!

Jed eyed his opponent. The key, please, he said calmly.

Defeated and embarrassed, Richard threw the key to his cabin across the table. Jed chuckled as he collected it. This wouldn’t be the first wife or mistress he’d won in a poker game. And daresay, it wouldn’t be his last.

Even though this was merely sport to him, Jed couldn’t quell the grin that played on his lips. Now, to extract whatever money Laurent’s wife had withheld from her husband…

Good evening, gentlemen, he said with a low and mocking bow.

Once he was out of the salon, Jed glanced at the key fob for the room number. His smile broadened. The honeymoon suite? Well, well.

* * * * *

Elena Laurent sank into a wingback chair and cast her sullen gaze on the stil

l-

made bed. With a sigh, she crossed her arms over her chest. Richard had told her he’d only be gone for an hour at the most. She glanced at the clock. It had been four. Four long hours. And it wasn’t fitting for a well-bred lady to step into the salon after the men had taken it over to gamble.

The doorknob rattled and she heard the key twist in the lock. A sudden burst of anger at her husband flared. She shot to her feet and snatched the closest weapon—a vase. As soon as the door opened, she hurled the vase with all her might. But her target dodged and instead of crashing against Richard’s skull as Elena had intended, it shattered against the wall.

I see you’re expecting me, came a raspy voice—a voice that did not belong to her husband.

Elena blinked. Her eyes focused on a tall, black-haired man. Her breath froze in her chest at the sight of him. Wavy locks protested against the pomade in his hair. His fashionably cut suit fit him to utter, mouth-watering perfection. Although he dressed the part, Elena knew this man was no gentleman. He leaned casually against the doorframe as if he belonged in this cabin—with her.

Monsieur…I…you startled me. Apparently, you are in the wrong room. But already, her mind wrapped around the question of why he had her key. Panic welled. Her pulse accelerated.

"Oh no, Madame Laurent. I’m in the right cabin."

Elena’s eyes widened.

The man’s mouth stretched into a smile. And God in heaven, what a smile! Dimples deepened in his stubbl

e-

shadowed cheeks. His eyes twinkled mischievously.

Elena gulped. I don’t understand.

His gaze slid from her eyes downward, lingering in such a way Elena’s mouth went dry. Her wedding was only two days prior and not even Richard had looked at her this way—as if he might devour her body and soul. Her breathing quickened and then stopped altogether when his eyes returned to hers once more.

I won you, my dear, he said, leering.

Her mouth fell open. Won me? Won… Won me? she said finally forcing the words from her lips. What on earth are you talking about? Where’s my husband?

He’s still in the grand salon—no doubt, drowning his sorrows. The man took a step farther inside the room. What a prize to lose!

Elena retreated an instinctive step backward. The backs of her knees came in contact with her chair. She felt trapped, ensnared by this devilish man with no way to escape. "What do you mean, you won me?"

"I mean, ma chéri, that your husband ran out of funds and that he used you as collateral. Unfortunately—or rather fortunately for me—he lost." Again, he smiled and Elena cursed the way her stomach tensed at the sight of it.

What are you? she demanded. Some sort of card sharp? Heavens, why couldn’t she think and why couldn’t she stop this infernal trembling?

Card sharp? You cut me to the quick, madam. His fingers splayed wide over his chest in mock dismay. Card sharp carries with it such an ugly connotation. I prefer to consider myself a…professional.

A professional cheat!

His lips parted—again in false trepidation. "I am not a cheat, cher. What I am, is an opportunist."

You’re vile, Elena snapped. No gentleman would dare ever suggest that a husband put his wife up as stakes in a card bet.

His dimples deepened even more. I never claimed I was a gentleman.

Elena gasped. The audacity of this man! Let me pass.

He stood to the side and bowed as she stormed out of the cabin, heedless of the fact she wore only her nightgown and robe. Infuriated, she flung open the door to the grand salon. All eyes riveted to her.

The entire room crawled with fancy women in low cut, garish dresses, sidling up to cigar puffing, whiskey swilling men. Elena’s cheeks flamed as she searched the crowd for her husband. He sat, his face buried in his palms. A bloody bandage encircled one of his hands.

Is it true? she demanded from the doorway. Tell me, Richard. Is it true?

The gambler stepped into the salon behind her. Elena’s back prickled with his close proximity. For a fleeting instant, she hoped it was true. Immediately she shook the sinful wish from her brain.

Richard hung his head.

It is true? Elena asked, fists balled. You gambled me away to this…this stranger?

Richard merely nodded.

Elena inhaled. A riot of emotions engulfed her. Anger. Hate. Shock. And something else she couldn’t define. Something dark and dangerous and…

Her gaze shot to the gambler and a sudden burst of courage gushed forth. Needing to punish Richard, she turned to the gambler, closed the distance between them and pressed her lips to his.

She’d only intended to make a quick, public display but suddenly, his arms crushed her against the solid wall of his chest. Senses reeling, she tilted her head back under no will of her own. Her mouth opened and his