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His willingness to take what most would consider a dangerous risk suddenly made sense. He wasn’t the sort to back down from a challenge. His very nature demanded that he rise to meet it. In that area, they were very alike.
The games ended in a dead tie, which Blackthorn likely attributed to Westing’s skill rather than hers. It didn’t matter to her in the least. In fact, it worked to her advantage to let him think her less clever than she was.
Throughout dinner, the four of them covered a range of subjects, the conversation flowing easily between them. Blackthorn’s gaze rested on her a bit more frequently than before, but she noticed he made a marked effort to look at Harrow often, too.
Harrow, bless him, returned each glance with just the right amount of intensity to make the fellow squirm and look away, pink-faced.
She had to give it to Blackthorn—he was indeed giving it his best effort.
As for Westing, he was excellent company and admirably fulfilled his role as a distraction. In her case, a welcome one. Anything that kept her from paying too much attention to the sensations elicited by Blackthorn’s nearness was a good thing. She revised her earlier decision to exempt him from her company for his own benefit. Could she help it if he’d thrown his lot in with Blackthorn? He’d made his choice. She’d try her best to see he didn’t regret it, but would make no promises.
Following dinner, the four retired to the salon for more games. This time, they swapped partners, and she ended up with Blackthorn. They made a surprisingly good team. He was an intuitive player, at times seeming to know what cards she held before they were revealed. She suspected he did.
After playing with him for an hour, she realized she’d erred in thinking he didn’t respect her skill. Rather than making her a passive partner, he worked with her to maximize their cards. Winning against the other pair was all but effortless, a fact greatly lamented by their opponents, who’d been roundly drubbed.
Blackthorn’s open admiration of her ability warmed her inside. As much as she’d intended to see him make a fool of himself trying to flirt with Harrow, she was rather glad he hadn’t.
As the men were preparing to depart, however, he appeared to remember his promise.
When Harrow reached out to shake hands in farewell, Blackthorn held on a bit longer than necessary and shot him such an intense look that it elicited a twinge below her navel. To her shock, it appeared to have an effect on Harrow, too. His eyes widened a fraction, and a tinge of color entered his cheeks before he managed to compose himself and bid their guest goodbye.
The look Blackthorn gave her when he bowed over her hand a moment later was one of smug triumph. A shiver of heat ran through her as it changed to one even more intense than that to which he’d subjected Harrow. Blackthorn’s hot, dry fingers slid beneath hers, setting off little sparks deep inside. Those sparks ignited into a bonfire when his warm lips brushed against her skin.
A melting sensation swept through her, eliciting tingles in unmentionable places, simultaneously scrambling her brain and setting off warning bells. Keeping her distance was going to be much harder than anticipated.
As soon as their guests were on the other side of the door, she went straight to the decanter and poured two stiff drinks, one for herself and another for Harrow.
Harrow didn’t even blink. “George’s gout, what have we gotten ourselves into?” he muttered as he accepted his.
She swallowed a mouthful of fire, barely refraining from making a face at the burning trail it left in its wake before answering, “Trouble. Let us hope not more than we can manage.” Eyeing her friend, she smirked. “I thought you immune to his charms?”
He huffed a laugh. “So did I, but I was unprepared for that. I swear if you had not warned me he was going to pretend an interest, I might have thought it genuine. A body would have to be cold in the grave at least three days not to have been affected. You’re certain he’s only playacting?”
The hint of wistfulness in his tone broke the tension, and she released the laugh she’d been holding in all evening. “Should I warn René he has competition?”
“Bite your tongue,” he replied with mock severity, knocking back his drink. This more than anything told her it had affected him more than he was happy to admit. “He may be a handsome devil, but so is René, and he has my heart.” His look turned sly. “I was not the only one flustered by the man. I saw the way you blushed every time he looked at you tonight, especially just now.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she said, putting her nose in the air. The effect was ruined by the giggle that erupted from her lips, however. Her head felt light, and she grasped the back of a chair to steady herself.
Harrow’s eyes narrowed. Before she could protest, he gently took the glass from her hand. “I think you’ve had enough. It won’t help anyway, not really. And you don’t wish a headache in the morning.”
It was probably too late for that, but she conceded without argument. As for helping, the alcohol seemed to have the opposite effect. If anything, it made her feel more vulnerable and at the mercy of her emotions. “How am I to endure this, this…wanting?” she asked, beyond caring how embarrassed she ought to have been.
“You’re not,” answered her friend. “I told you it would become more than you’ll be able to bear. If you think it’s bad now, just wait.” He downed the rest of her drink and set aside their glasses. “Giving in too soon would be a mistake, however, so we must plan ahead.”
“Easy for you to say ‘wait’ when you have René,” she grumbled.
A guilty grin flashed across Harrow’s face. “I do, indeed.”
Heat flared in her cheeks, and she pulled a face. “I don’t want to know,” she half sang before giving in to laughter.
Coming over, he wrapped an arm about her shoulders and pulled her into a hug.
Diana leaned in and let herself be comforted for a moment. “I’m glad you have each other,” she said, determined not to feel jealous.
“As am I.” He placed a kiss atop her head and whispered, “You won’t be alone forever.”
She let out a sigh. “Sometimes it feels as if I will. All my old friends are married now.”
