Daniel straightened the sleeves of his blue kerseymere tailcoat. He had at best one week to earn Rebecca’s forgiveness before the other guests descended on Castle Keyvnor like a pack of locusts. Once their finite opportunity for private conversations had vanished, there would be no second chances.
He couldn’t let that happen.
Wind howled through the turrets. Daniel glanced out of the window at the darkening sky. He ignored a sudden pang of foreboding.
Sunset was the perfect time to open a bottle of wine with an old friend. Perhaps tonight they could begin to put their past behind them. With determination, he strode out from his bedchamber and into the belly of the castle.
Before reaching the wine cellar, he glimpsed the true object of his desire disappearing into an open doorway at the rear of the property.
Rebecca had just entered the billiards room.
He smiled to himself as he hurried down the corridor to catch up with her. Years ago, during the same visit in which raisin biscuits had forever become his favorite dessert, he and Rebecca had snuck into the billiards room and he had taught her to play.
She’d been abysmal, of course. Rarely managed to knock her ball in the correct direction, much less bank the red carom ball into an appropriate rail. But they’d spent an entire afternoon talking about anything and everything, and had laughed until their cheeks hurt.
Daniel hadn’t enjoyed a game of billiards that much before or after.
He crossed the threshold just as Rebecca finished placing the red ball and the spot ball onto the billiard green.
“No ball for me?” he asked as he entered the room.
She glanced up in surprise. “You want to play?”
“What gentleman ever doesn’t wish he was playing billiards with a beautiful woman?”
Her eyes fluttered heavenward, but she placed the white ball atop the table and motioned for him to take his shot.
Rather than aim at the carom ball, he sent his ball flying lengthwise to the other end of the table, where it bounced against the rail and rolled back to where it began, about ten inches from the head rail.
He couldn’t remember if he’d taught her this method of returning one’s ball as close to the rail as possible in order to determine who went first, but before he could explain what he was about, Rebecca lined up her cue and took her shot.
Her ball flew smoothly across the green, kissed the far rail, and sailed past where it had first taken flight to stop flush against the cushion.
It was the most perfect lag shot Daniel had ever seen in his life.
He cleared his throat. “Would you like to go first?”
The corner of her mouth twitched. “You don’t want me to go first.”
“Your mistake,” he said with a shrug as he lined up his cue. “First to score eight wins.”
The first stroke was a classic ricochet off the red ball and he scored his first point. The second stroke caught the red ball slightly off center, but scored another point. The third hit, however, was slightly too inside the triangle to properly be considered good form.
He glanced at Rebecca out of the corner of his eye.
She gazed back at him placidly.
He’d count it as a point. He chalked his billiard stick. Rebecca neither seemed impressed nor unimpressed with his play thus far. Despite scoring three in a row, she barely seemed to be paying attention.
Determined to dazzle her, he lined up a two point shot, intending to hit her ball with the carom ball, all in one strike.
But due to inexplicably unsteady fingers, the only ball he managed to hit was his own.
“My turn?” she asked, her wide gray eyes spellbinding.
He stepped back from the table and bowed. “Milady.”
She chalked her stick, spent absolutely no time bothering to line up her move, and instantly scored a two point shot by ricocheting the red carom off the side rail and into his ball.
His throat went dry.
Without pausing between shots, she hit a second two pointer, then a third, then a fourth.
“That’s eight,” she said briskly. “I win. Thank you for playing a game with me, Daniel. It was quite instructive.”
He smiled back weakly. Or tried to. His entire body was pudding. Partly because he’d just received the swiftest, most obliterating billiards thrashing of his life. And partly because, whether she realized it or not… Rebecca had finally called him Daniel again.
“Er…” he managed to say.
She leaned back over the billiards table and made another two point shot. And another. And another.
He completely lost count of how many points she had earned and instead concentrated on admiring her form. She was magnificent. Masterful. Never before had he realized how passionately a humiliation at the billiards table could stir his lust. If they weren’t in haunted Castle Keyvnor, he would have liked to play an entirely different game with her atop the green felt table.
When effortlessly making impossible shots grew dull—or perhaps her slender arms had simply grown tired—Rebecca rested the end of her stick against the floor and arched an eyebrow. “Want to play again?”
“Uh…” he managed this time.
She licked her lips as she slowly chalked her stick. “I can help you with a proper stance if you like. It’s all in the position of the hips.”
“I have no idea what’s happening right now,” he rasped through a suddenly tight throat, “but if it involves you touching me, I volunteer to practice all night.”
Her gray eyes met his as she blew the excess chalk off the tip of her stick. “Sorry. No touching.”
His breeches tightened and he nodded quickly. “No touching is definitely the wisest idea at this point.”
She lay her stick across the green and perched her derriere up onto the wooden edge of the billiards table. “Do you play often back home?”
He was finding it hard to concentrate. All he could think was that in the space of half an hour, she’d gone from the most intriguing woman of his acquaintance to probably the most fascinating woman on the planet.
She was incredible. He wished he could take her home with him. Not just for the vivid sweaty fantasies that flashed through his mind when she sat on the edge of the table with her hips at the perfect height, but for a thousand other reasons.
He’d love to watch her trounce every one of his profligate friends in a game of carom billiards. He’d love to get her opinions on a few investments he was currently considering and he’d love her thoughts on half a dozen issues he was debating bringing up in the House of Lords. He’d love to take her dancing. To Gunter’s Tea Shop for ices. And to Vauxhall for fireworks.
Perhaps if she were sufficiently caught up in the romance of the moment, she might even let him sweep her away for a kiss.
He shook his head as reality once again took hold. All the things he liked best about her were the very same traits his grandmother found horrid and untenable. The dowager not only had rigid ideas on what became a future viscountess, she also had the social influence to make his life hell should he deviate from her dictates for even a moment.
If his grandmother had disapproved of Rebecca before, she would be brutal if she believed Rebecca stood in the way of her wishes once more.
Daniel set his jaw. He wouldn’t give the dowager a reason to attack Rebecca. Or the rest of the ton. The beau monde wasn’t just a self-important coterie of old money and grand dames. The fashionable set could be vicious. He couldn’t let Rebecca be hurt a third time.
She meant too much.
Although every part of him yearned to stay with her, to reach for her, Daniel returned his billiard stick to the wall mount and took his bow.
“Good night, Miss Bond. Thank you for a lovely game.”
“Rebecca,” she whispered softly.
His heart clenched at the sorrow in her eyes. She’d been having fun. Enjoying herself as much as he had. Perhaps even thinking a few of the same carnal thoughts.
Nothing could be more dangerous than indulging a moment’s fantasy.
While he could, Daniel forced himself to walk away.