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Damp curls clung to Granby’s temples, his cheeks colored pink from the sun; he stood before her looking more appealing than ever. The sleeves of his shirt had been rolled back to reveal muscular forearms dusted with dark hairs, the material of his shirt so fine, Romy could see the curves of sinew across his chest and shoulders. Long, elegant fingers drummed lightly against his thighs as she stared in fascination. She’d never seen him without gloves. What would it feel like to have those massive hands move across her skin?
A rush of heat flew up her chest at the mere thought.
Whatwaswrong with her? Granby was an unlikable wretch.
“Our match is next, Blythe.” His eyes never left Romy. Nor did Granby bother to hide his apparent admiration for her bosom.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to beg off. I’ve promised Lady Meredith a turn around the pond. But Lady Andromeda might wish to play you.” Blythe shot her a look. “I’ve an idea she may want to challenge you. Perhaps even make a wager.”
She was too outraged at the fate of the tailor and her continued reaction to Granby to give more than a passing thought to the knowledge that Blythe was subtly manipulating her. He’d given her a way to possibly help an elderly retainer, which was much more important.
“Do you evenplay, Lady Andromeda?”
Granby’s coldly dismissive tone infuriated Romy. She was very close to tossing her half-eaten apple at his head. Blythe hadn’t even demurred when she’d said Granby disliked her. Well, he was going to detest her a great deal more after she trounced him in bowls. Perhaps then this unsettling attraction they had for each other would finally dissipate.
Romy snorted in derision. “Of course, I play bowls, Your Grace. Rather well, as it happens. My father, the Duke of Averell, taught me.WeBarringtons like to wager when we play.” It seemed the appropriate time to remind the giant block of ice before her that her brother owned a gambling hell.
“A wager?” There was a deceptive softness to his reply. “What do you have I could possibly want?”
Romy bit back the urge to stomp on his foot. He’d not feel it anyway. She doubted Granby ever felt anything. “Afraid you might lose to me, Your Grace? The humiliation will be difficult to avoid.”
Romy meant to see that Granby properly pensioned off the old retainer. If the man were still alive, which she prayed he was. She would see things made right. Beating Granby soundly would merely be an added bonus.
He leaned down, just enough so that she caught his scent, the slight aroma of pine and shaving soap mixing with his sun-warmed skin. Granby always smelled as if he’d just arrived from a stroll in the woods, which angered her further.
“I don’t lose, Lady Andromeda.Ever. I’ll even spot you two points.”
“There is no need.”
“I insist.”
Bloody tyrant.
“Fine. We must each make a wager on the outcome.”
“Agreed.” The word rasped lightly against her skin. He waved her forward.
Romy marched in the direction of the green. Granby’s nearness had a habit of muddling her thoughts, and she needed all her concentration for the game before her. A servant passed her with a tray, and she tossed what remained of her apple atop it.
“Thank you.” Her skirts were flapping wildly around her legs in agitation.
A disgruntled noise came from her host.
“I merely thanked him, Your Grace. He is not beneathmynotice.”
“His very employment demands that he remain beneath notice.” He’d caught up with her easily; after all, his legs were much longer.
But she wasangrier.
Her body refused to stop being aware of his, sparks flying up her skin when he drew closer to her, as he did now. Romy stopped to face him so abruptly, her skirts whipped around both her ankles and his. Papa had cautioned her from the time Romy was a child to control her temper. He would be disappointed in her behavior today.
Granby cocked his head, chilly regard firmly in place. “Something distresses you, Lady Andromeda. Perhaps you’ve changed your mind about challenging me.”
“Perish the thought, Your Grace. When I win—”
“I am not the only one guilty of arrogance, it seems.” Granby’s lips twisted into a small frown. “What is it you want, if you should win?”
Romy bit the inside of her cheek, struggling to retain the string of insults she wished to hurl at him. Now was not the time to do so. “You will settle upon your former tailor a tidy sum for his retirement. And a cottage. If he is still living,” she added, making a great show of pulling her skirts away from his boots.
