Excerpt: 'Reckless Wager' by Christy Carlyle

Christy Carlyle shares an excerpt from her new historical romance, Reckless Wager.

Christy: Set against the backdrop of London's dangerous East End in 1888, Victorian propriety and passions collide when a widow makes a Reckless Wager with a police detective bent on solving the Ripper mystery.

Katherine Guthrie seeks the assistance of Detective Sergeant Benjamin Quinn when a young woman named Rose comes to the charity clinic where she volunteers claiming to have been attacked by Jack the Ripper. Kate has no idea the detective has been suspended from the Metropolitan Police on the very day she seeks him out. And the last thing she expects is for him to kiss her.

When Rose disappears, Ben Quinn is determined to find her, and equally determined to deter the beautiful Kate Guthrie from getting involved. Not only does he wish to keep her safe, but he finds the determined widow far too tempting. He can only quell his attraction for her by putting distance between them.

EXCERPT

Kate watched Detective Sergeant Quinn walk away. His tall, broad form and black coat were easy to spot, even in the early morning mist. His strides were long, his gait hurried, as if he wished to escape her as swiftly as he was able.

He would find Rose. Kate was certain of it. Even on short acquaintance, Kate sensed a deep vein of tenacity in Detective Quinn. It was something in his eyes. A hunger, a craving—a look she wouldn't soon forget.

She squinted. His dark form faded, becoming harder to see. The streets filled quickly with carts and carriages and pedestrians buying or selling goods. The fog still clung in corners and soon the detective, the first man who had kissed her on the mouth in nearly ten years, would merge with the London haze.

She started after him. In her practical boots, her stride was sure, and she caught up to Detective Quinn quickly.

She couldn't just let him disappear into the crush of Whitechapel. That figure, hunched against the wind, unmistakable with those wide warrior shoulders and hair that only revealed its true auburn color when a slice of sunlight broke through the haze. That less-than-a-gentleman detective sergeant who'd kissed her quite inappropriately and more deliciously than any man ever had.

If she let him go, how would she ever learn what happened to Rose? And then another thought—foolish, improper, bone deep. If she let him go, would any man ever kiss her that way again?

"Detective!"

The news that the fellow pushing his way through the throngs on Whitechapel Road was a police detective caused a bit of consternation among the crowd. Kate saw a group of men move away from Detective Quinn and a woman selling rags shouted something no lady would dare repeat. The man himself stopped his progress and watched her approach.

Kate slowed to a more ladylike pace and took a deep breath before she paused in front of Detective Quinn. He'd crossed his arms, and she could see the muscle in his jaw ticking where he clenched it. He was so tall; she took a step back to gaze up at him properly. Clear-eyed and clean-shaven, he exuded an air of confidence she hadn't seen in him the night before. The bluish shadow of a bruise marred the skin near his right eye and cheek, and Kate wondered again about how he'd been wounded. His eyes appeared darker in the daylight than they had in his dim lodging room, but perhaps it was just irritation that turned them a deeper blue. And he was irritated. She expected him to say so, but he simply gazed down at her so intently she was certain he would divine every secret she had ever stashed away.

"I would like to come with you to find Rose."

He moved, his chest heaving up and down, and Kate thought he might be on the verge of a coughing fit. Then she heard laughter bubbling up, a rich, deep chuckle that shook his whole body. His smile took her breath away. She felt dizzy, on the verge of giggling, but stopped herself. He was laughing at her, after all.

"I fail to see what is so amusing, Detective."

Kate took a step back when he reached for her, but he wouldn't be deterred. Detective Quinn moved closer, grasped her shoulders, and turned her around. He pulled her flush against his body, embracing her in his arms, surrounding her with his heat.

"Do you see that man across the way? Near the pub entrance?"

"Y-yes." Kate spoke through the shivers sparked by his nearness.

"He steals the lives of girls like Rose. Forces them onto the streets and then takes their earnings. Beats them, or worse, if they refuse to pay."

Kate tried to look back at the detective, but he'd bent his head close to hers. He whispered in her ear, warming her skin with his breath.

"And the woman over there, sitting on the pavement?"

Kate nodded, her hair brushing against his cheek.

"She's fresh out of Newgate. Though she looks old and broken, she's the nimblest thief I've ever known. Take care not to pass her on the street. She'll cut your purse from your skirt and you'll be none the wiser."

"I—" Kate opened her mouth to protest. She'd learned her lesson about Whitechapel early on and took care never to bring valuables with her when she volunteered at the clinic. She certainly wasn't fool enough to carry coin loose in her skirt pocket.

"See the boy. He's just under the stairwell, covered in grime. Rather blends in with the bricks and muck, doesn't he? Young Tommy Lark looks and listens. He listens to the streets for the King of Thieves and then he sings just like his namesake when he finds a likely mark. Be careful not to let him hear your address when you call it up to the cabbie. Especially if you've any valuables at home you'd care to keep."

Leaning to the right, he placed a finger under her chin, tilting her head toward him.

"You have no idea of the dangers all around you. If you did, you wouldn't walk these streets so blithely."

Find out more about Christy and her books at www.christycarlyle.com.