“I was. Garrick liked the idea of having an apprentice. Someone to whom he could teach his tricks. Not out of any sense of altruism, mind. Having a protégé allowed him to earn extra money without the danger of being called out as a cheat and a rogue. He’d send me out into the city to play street games and the like. It was a lucrative business for him.”

She looked appalled. “He took your winnings?”

“The greater portion of them. He also saw that I had somewhere to sleep and that my belly was filled. And it’s true he often told people I was his son. But I had no illusions. Had I not had an aptitude for cards, he’d have had no qualms about leaving me behind.”

“How long were you with him?”

“Two years. Until I outgrew him. It wasn’t as easy to take my earnings then—and I was less inclined to part with them. Garrick didn’t have any use for a lad he couldn’t control.”

“Two years,” Laura mused. “That would have made you fifteen. Still just a boy.”

Alex looked into her eyes. They were as soft as blue smoke in the light from the oil lamp. Her hair was coming loose from its pins, ebony strands curling at her temples to frame her face. A face he very much wanted to kiss.

Good lord, he should be wooing her with sweet words. Coaxing her to bed, not burdening her with stories from his past.

“What did you do?” she asked.

“I traveled about, playing cards with whoever would indulge me. Luckily I won more than I lost.” He brought her hand to his lips. “And one day, many years later, when I was at a faro bank in Marseilles, I met George Wright.” He pressed a kiss to her palm. “And then I met you.”

She drew her fingertips along his cheek. “Many, many years later.”

“The only thing good to come out of any of this.”

Her eyes searched his. “Do you really believe that?”

“I do.” His heart thumped hard as she lifted her hand from his to cradle his face. Her thumb moved over his jaw in a slow caress. There was a tenderness in her touch. A possessiveness, too.

“I’m a little nervous,” she confessed.

He set his arm about her waist, drawing her closer. “So am I,” he said. And he bent his head and captured her mouth with his.

Laura’s hand slid from Alex’s cheek to curve around his neck. His lips were warm and firm, the evening scruff of his beard deliciously abrasive against her skin. Warmth infused her veins, just as it had when he’d kissed her beneath the yew tree. But this time…

This time, there was nothing impulsive in his touch.