“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. “At this point, no touching is definitely the wisest plan.”
She lay her stick across the green and perched her derrière up onto the wooden edge of the billiards table. “Do you play often back home?”
Did he? Daniel 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 fantasies that flashed through his mind as she sat on the edge of the table with her hips at the perfect height for lovemaking, 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. Or to Gunter’s Tea Shop for ices. And to Vauxhall for the nightly 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 qualities became a future viscountess, she also had the social influence to make Daniel’s life hell should he deviate from her dictates.
If his grandmother had disapproved of Rebecca before, her retaliation would be brutal if she believed Rebecca stood in the way of her wishes once again.
Daniel set his jaw. He wouldn’t give the dowager a reason to attack Rebecca. Or subject her to the rest of theton. Thebeau mondewasn’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 while he still could.
“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.
Chapter 7
The following morning, Rebecca didn’t bother adding extra curls to her hair. Daniel had bolted from the billiards room with such alacrity the night before, there was no sense pretending an extra ringlet or two would mark the difference between attractive and repulsive.
He liked her. She believed that much; otherwise his immediate departure from his whirlwind London life for an early visit to Crowmere Castle would make no sense. But he didn’t like herenough.
He never had.
Rebecca had always been relegated to a category wholly separate from real, actual ladies worth a man of his stature’s attention. Some women were for dancing with, some for courting publicly, and some for wooing in private.
And then there was Rebecca.
He could withstand her company long enough to chat in the library, share a slice of apple pie, shoot a little billiards. But there was always a limit. A moment when the drawbridge went up and the gates came down. Sometimes it was as trifling as quitting the billiards room in the middle of a conversation.
Other times it was public humiliation.
She twisted her messy curls into a loose bun and shrugged at her reflection. She supposed she should be grateful for the clarity of her situation. Some women sighed over the uncertainty of not knowing where they stood with this swain or that. Rebecca had no such puzzle to solve.
Daniel was not, nor would he ever be, her beau. He had told her so when he was only seventeen. Hisgrandmotherhad told her so. Repeatedly. She was simply nottonmaterial. Society itself pointed out the chasm at every turn.
The difficulty lay in protecting her heart. Just because an intelligent mind knew a thing was impossible to attain, didn’t stop a foolish heart from weaving a few dreams.
This time, however, she was prepared. She wouldnotbe crushed when his title drew him back to London and the society papers filled their columns once more with lurid descriptions of his innumerable anonymous conquests.
