“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 ever taught her this method of returning one’s ball as close to the rail as possible in order to determine which player 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 and considered his next move. 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.
As if oblivious to his continued presence, she casually 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 Crowmere Castle, 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.”
