“I’m sure you think you do, especially as quite a bit of money is at stake,” Ravenna remarked, keeping her naturally husky tones low. A man like him missed nothing, and while her disguise of a young, rich, well-born chap had served to fool many, she had the feeling it would not trick him so easily. She had the advantage as dealer, but if she took one more card, she could easily overdraw and lose. Twenty was solid and she doubted he had a natural. Those two cards under his drumming fingertips taunted her.

Mr. Chase peered at her. “What are you called?”

Hiding her sudden dread, Ravenna sketched a cheerful bow from her seated position, hand tipping the brim of her hat. “Mr. Raven Hunt, at your service. Seventh son to a seventh son seeking his fortune, friendship, and a fine adventure.” She cringed. That was a smidge too dramatic, but she held on to her charming grin as though it were a shield.

Eventually, one side of his full lips curled up at the corner into a half smirk. “You’re barely wet behind the ears. What’s a whelp like you doing here?”

“I’m old enough to seek my own way.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” She was still contemplating how to respond when he leaned back in his chair. “I make it my business to know everyone who comes onto my island.”

“Is that a fact, Your High-Handedness?” she shot back.

“Careful, puppy.” His lips tugged into a full smile, though it didn’t make her feel any better. This one was a downright threat. Ravenna bristled. No one, not even Rhystan, had ever spoken to her with such condescension. Who did he think he was?

A duke’s heir, her brain interjected. If local gossip was to be believed anyhow. But the rumor mill on the island was unreliable at best. He had money, certainly—the cut of his clothing revealed that—but Mr. Chase didn’t carry himself like elitist British nobility. Notwithstanding the delicious layer of scruff covering that hard jaw, his attitude was relaxed and unconcerned as though he didn’t need an English title to flaunt his power. No, that came from within…from someone who had earned his place in the world and reveled in it.

Even now, a muscle in his cheek jaw flexed with careless ease, a hint that there was a good chance he held nothing. Besides, she had three of the aces and the last had already passed. Hadn’t it? Yes, she was quite certain. There was no way he had a natural. Even if he had twenty, she would still win as ties paid the dealer.

With a grand flourish, Ravenna set down her cards. She shot him a wink. “What do you know, old man, you just got trounced by a pup.”

* * *

Courtland Chase sat back in his chair.