To Catch a Viscount (The Heart of a Duke Book 17), page 24
Because this was the first—and final—home she’d call her own.
But he did not accompany her. He’d waved her on, and that had been the last she’d seen of him. The day had marched on, with a servant even bringing Marcia supper in her rooms.
She’d only just sought him out and found that he hadn’t gone off to one of those wicked clubs where he’d taken her.
Rather, he was here. With his friends, of course.
But still here.
Hovering outside the closed door of his billiards room, she debated what to do.
He didn’t want her company.
He’d never professed they would be anything more than friends.
But neither did that mean they had to live separate lives.
These past days with him, as they’d explored the more sinful sides of London he so enjoyed, had proven they were compatible partners, friends. Why, they could still explore all of those same haunts together.
She could be like one of his male chums.
With that resolve in place, Marcia pressed the handle and let herself in.
The room instantly went silent. The three players—Andrew and two of his notoriously wicked friends, Lord Landon and the Duke of Rothesby—stared at her.
For a moment, Marcia’s courage flagged as she recalled that she wasn’t one of his male chums.
Leave. Just go.
But if she went now, then it’d be a certainty that she’d absolutely live her own life while he lived his. And she didn’t want that. They were friends, and she wanted that continued friendship.
Before her courage completely deserted her, Marcia smiled and pushed the door shut behind her as she entered.
“Billiards! I confess I’ve always wanted to play,” she said, and Landon and Rothesby sent each other side looks as she skipped over and stretched her fingers up for one of the cue sticks.
She attempted to wrestle it free.
“Here, my lady.”
Lord Rothesby was immediately there.
Not her husband.
She didn’t want it to matter that this stranger, and not Andrew, had come to her aid.
She smiled and accepted the stick from him. “Thank you.”
He returned her smile, his an easy half tilt that radiated with warmth and sincerity, and more of her tension abated… until her gaze went to Andrew.
He did not wear a smile of any sort. Rather, his harshly beautiful features were set in a scowl.
On this, their wedding night.
A wedding night he had opted to spend with his friends.
Unnerved and with an awkward silence hanging over the room, Marcia did a circle of the table.
I should leave.
Andrew gave no indication he wanted her close. Or, for that matter, anywhere near him.
But she was very much a coward, because even knowing he didn’t want her around, she couldn’t stand being suffocated by her own silence, lonely and scared, as she’d been since their arrival at his home.
She made a show of studying the table, and while the three gentlemen silently observed her, Marcia brought the cue stick into place.
From the corner of her eye, she caught Landon’s smile.
It was, however, Rothesby who took mercy on her.
“It is upside down, my dear. Like this,” he explained, and stepping forward, he slid the stick from her fingers and repositioned for her. “If I may?” Even as he asked, he was already helping guide her into the proper stance at the table.
“Like this?” she asked.
Rothesby shifted her forward slightly and murmured his approval. “Like so, my lady. Now, the red ball is the object ball.” He guided the stick held between them in the direction of each ball as he named it. “And the white is the cue one. In order to determine who shoots first, players perform a lag.” All the while, he retained his hold upon her.
She cast a quizzical glance over her shoulder.
“Each player simultaneously hits a cue ball up the table, bouncing it off the top cushion so that it returns to the balkline.” He shifted her stick slightly. “That refers to this area of the table.” He traced a gentle circle over the indicated area upon the red velvet table.
The duke proceeded to run through the remainder of the directions of game play and a breakdown of the scoring system.
Andrew remained stonily silent the entire time. Where was his usual mirth?
Probably it’s only hit him what he’s done, that he’s now married.
Shoving aside that taunting voice, she trained all her focus on the game with the duke.
“You, however, can go first, my lady,” he was saying, forgoing the lag.
“That is very generous of you, Your Grace. Given we are friends now, however, I trust using each other’s more familiar names is permitted?”
Landon slanted a glance Andrew’s way.
Rothesby, with a confidence befitting either a duke or a consummate rake, or mayhap both, flashed a wicked half grin that she expected made many a lady’s heart flutter. “Far be it from me to reject a young lady’s request, Marcia,” he murmured and winked.
She braced for her heart to respond in the same way it did when Andrew smiled at her the way this man now did, but God help her, it did not. Even as he took her hands in his stronger, more powerful ones and guided her back into place, her heart remained remarkably steady in its beat.
“Get your damned hands off my wife, Rothesby,” Andrew snapped, and she and Rothesby glanced over at him, and this time, her heart did pound. “I’ll give her the damned lesson,” he muttered, stomping over.
In all the years they’d known each other, she’d never known him to be so out of sorts.
Andrew reached for the stick.
Heat filled her cheeks, and Marcia drew it close. “You don’t have to give me a lesson if you don’t want to,” she said archly as Rothesby stepped aside. “Rothesby has quite generously offered to see to the task himself.”
“I’ll see to it,” Andrew gritted out.
Fury blazed from his eyes, and she opened her mouth to debate him and then stopped. Something in those fiery specks in his eyes gave her pause. Why, it was as though he were jealous. Surely he was not, though. Such a thought was preposterous. He didn’t care about her in that regard. He’d been clear about that from the moment of his emotionless offer of marriage, and yet, right now, as he shoved Rothesby aside and took her in his arms, she could almost believe he did care about her in that way.
As Andrew positioned the cue, her heart did pound. Dangerously so. And as he held her in a makeshift embrace, guiding their frames in perfect harmony over the table, he drew her arm back.
She trembled.
“Steady,” he murmured, and with his body layered against hers, his breath fanning her ear, tickling her neck, the task he’d given her proved Herculean.
Marcia briefly closed her eyes and drew in a slow, steadying breath.
This is just a billiards lesson. It is no different than the one you received from the Duke of Rothesby mere moments ago, and Andrew is holding you only because it’s part of his lesson on the game.
She told herself as much. Over and over.
It did not help.
Her body did not understand or care about the difference. At some point, a great shift had occurred in her relationship with Andrew, and their friendship had morphed into something more. Something that made her aware of him in ways she’d not been aware of even her own betrothed.
The stick slid from her fingers, scraping the table.
“Worry not, love,” he assured, thankfully misunderstanding the reason for her wayward shot. “Soon it’ll become as natural as breathing.”
Marcia gave a shaky nod and took in another slow, equally uneven breath.
She forced her focus away from the powerful pull of being in Andrew’s arms and allowed him to teach her.
He was methodical in his approach, more matter-of-fact than Lord Rothesby had been, but precise in his directions. With each detail he imparted, he not only displayed the shot himself, but he also helped guide her through the particular motions.
As she stood back, observing his latest lesson, she noted that, attired only in his trousers, white lawn shirt, and boots, he was a sight to behold. The gape at the top of his shirt revealed the hint of tight golden coils that matted his chest.
She’d seen him in even less clothing.
As a girl and then even as a young woman, when they’d swum together at Lord and Lady Rutland’s annual summer house parties.
So why should she prove so fascinated, so hopelessly fixed on—
“I propose a friendly wager now that the lady has been sufficiently trained.”
Lord Landon’s casual drawl pulled Marcia back from her wicked musings, and she studiously studied the table, more than half-certain those present—including her husband—had read the wayward direction of her thoughts.
“How about a match between the happy bride and bridegroom and the remaining bachelors?” Rothesby offered.
Marcia was already making a sound of protest. “I cannot. I would only bring Andrew down.”
Andrew slid his spare fingers through hers, interlocking the digits and squeezing lightly, causing her pulse to race. “Worry not. Landon’s game play is beneath even that of a first-time player.”
She laughed, the expression of her mirth sounding breathless to her own ears. Marcia was thankful that the boisterous, echoing amusement from Andrew and Lord Rothesby and the over-the-top pretend outrage from the earl drowned out that breathy little sound.
“One hundred pounds,” Andrew said, tapping the edge of the table and appearing wholly oblivious to the effect he was having on her senses.
Her amusement immediately died. It was a deuced fortune. And on a playful game between friends. “One hundred—?”
Rothesby scoffed. “Five hundred.”
Marcia blanched and gave Andrew’s sleeve a light tug. “An—”
“One thousand,” Landon said.
She strangled on her swallow. “One thousand?” she squawked. “Andrew, that is folly,” she said on a whisper.
He took her palm in his once more and dropped a kiss upon the knuckles of first her left hand and then her right. “I have faith in our game play, love.”
“Well, that is bloody stupid,” she hissed. “Andrew, I’ve never played, and that really is rude of them to suggest such a wager,” she said for his ears only.
“It is a game between friends,” he insisted.
“Andrew,” she protested.
“Your wife is far cleverer than you, ol’ chap,” Landon called over. “Heed her advice and make this one of the rare wagers you do forgo.”
Marcia frowned in the earl’s direction, and he touched a finger to his bow.
“My apologies, my lady.”
Marcia tensed her mouth. “Very well,” she said tightly.
Rothesby motioned between her and Andrew. “The happy couple may play first.”
The happy couple, she mused wryly. How many happy couples spent their wedding night with their husband’s confirmed-bachelor friends?
“Oh, no.” She brought her palms up, holding her stick aloft. “I’d… benefit from watching the game play further.”
Rothesby inclined his head. “Let it be a consolation that you took lessons from the best, my lady.”
“Andrew is the best?” she asked, perking up, and Andrew gave her a quick little wink.
A wry grin formed on the duke’s mouth. “I referred to myself, your first instructor.”
“About as memorable for Waters’ bride as you are with all the ladies,” Landon said and laughed at his own joke, with Rothesby taking that good-natured ribbing.
“Landon, have a care with your mouth around my wife,” Andrew snapped.
“Ah, but she is one of the fellows now. Isn’t that right, love?” Lord Landon flashed what she expected would be a devastating smile to any other lady and followed it with a wink.
Both left her remarkably unmoved.
Marcia lifted her head solemnly. “One of the fellows,” she allowed.
Landon and Rothesby played through, racking up points until the turn switched to Marcia and Andrew.
Her husband drew her close and whispered near her ear, “Just recall your lesson, and remember, it is just in good fun.”
Oh, she remembered every one of those lessons. But she had been a girl and not aware of Andrew’s body wrapped around hers then.
“Good fun doesn’t end with a person standing to lose one thousand pounds, Andrew.” She’d intended for her pronouncement to be firm and steady, but it emerged breathy, as her voice became whenever he touched her.
With another wink, Andrew turned his attention on the table and made quick work of it. Given there were one thousand pounds on the line, she should be attending the game.
But, God help her, she could not keep her eyes off of him.
He was tall and impressive and graceful even in game play. As he brought his arm back for each shot, the muscles of his biceps strained the fabric of his shirt, and her mouth went dry, and she could fix only on that fascinating ripple of material as it outlined his powerful form.
Her husband was a magnificent specimen of masculinity.
My husband.
My husband.
She toyed with those words in her mind, playing them over and over again. The litany became as dangerous as this sudden preoccupation with Andrew Barrett’s form.
“Your turn, love.”
A startled shriek slipped out, and Marcia jumped at that sudden interruption.
Andrew held the cue stick out, and she accepted it with trembling fingers.
Drawing in a deep breath, she forced her thoughts away from her husband and on to the game. Putting all her attention on the table, she leaned over and let her cue stick fly.
It immediately cracked the red ball, which in turn snapped against the back of the velvet table and sprang forward, colliding with the other balls, which sent two more balls flying. She made quick work of the remaining two, knocking them out in a matter of seconds before setting her stick down.
Silence, to match the one that had greeted her when she’d joined Andrew and his company, filled the room. Only, this proved to be the stunned kind.
“I believe that is one thousand pounds each, gentlemen,” she said, dusting her palms together.
Landon released a long groan.
Rothesby tossed his head back and roared with laughter. “It appears we’ve been swindled by your wife.”
Andrew’s features were a harsh mask, impossible to read.
“Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me,” he said, and she tried to interpret his tone, but could not.
“Happy to do so before she takes our damned properties,” Landon muttered, returning his cue to its proper place on the wall.
Rothesby inclined his head. “Worry not, Marcia. He’s merely jesting.” He paused. “Landon lost his properties long before you came along.”
The marquess flashed a finger, pulling laughter from the duke. But when he looked back at her, there was a new seriousness to the gentleman. Rothesby took her right hand in his and drew it to his lips the same way Andrew had moments ago and gave her knuckles a kiss that lingered as much.
It was also a kiss that left her feeling remarkably flat.
“It was a pleasure, Marcia,” he murmured, squeezing her fingers lightly.
A moment later, Andrew’s friends filed from the room, and Andrew followed them. For a moment, she thought—feared—he intended to leave the room with them. But he stopped and closed the door behind them with a click that resonated as powerfully as thunder in the quiet.
Leaving Marcia and Andrew alone.
They’d been alone any number of times before this one. Too many to count. Most of those instances had been when she’d been a child and underfoot while he’d been attempting to sneak some peace and quiet for himself.
But this proved their first time alone as a married couple.
Andrew turned back, a scowl stamped on his features.
He was annoyed and disapproving, also firsts for her.
Marcia dampened her mouth. “I’ve displeased you,” she said.
He strode over.
Nay, not strode—stalked. His steps were the languid ones of a lion she’d once observed at the Royal Zoo.
“Oh, no,” he murmured, the moment he reached her. “Anything but.” He caressed his fingers lightly over the curve of her hip, and her mouth went dry when he suddenly gripped her hard, drawing her close.
“T-truly? B-because you seem angry.” Her voice emerged as a breathless whisper.
“Oh, I am not angry,” he whispered, placing a kiss on the curve of her neck.
Biting her lower lip, she tilted her head to better open herself to his worshiping mouth. “N-no?”
“Oh, no.” Then he slid his palms under her buttocks, scooping that flesh as he pulled her against him. So close, she felt the long line of his erection. “I found myself impressed.”
A little laugh escaped her. “You are impressed that I swindled your friends?”
“I’m impressed beyond measure by the ease with which you swindled your opponents. Especially those bounders.”
Holding his neck, Marcia angled back slightly so she might meet his eyes. “And here I never knew that billiards could be a game that inspires desire. It is—”
He covered her mouth with his, kissing her into silence, and she was happy to surrender the dialogue and herself to him.
Sighing, she let her lips part, and he swept inside, tasting her, and she tasted him in return. All the while, he touched her, his long, strong hands exploring the slight curve of her hip, the flare of her buttocks.
Then, reaching up, he slipped the bodice of her dress down, exposing her bosom to the air.
She gave a little quiver that had absolutely nothing to do with the slight chill that hung in the room.
Andrew palmed her breasts, lifting them gently like he were weighing gold, and then slowly, he lowered his mouth.
A hiss slipped between her teeth, and her legs trembled as he took one of those sensitive peaks between his lips, suckling gentling, tugging at the bud.
