“Not really. Would you like a game?”
“Oh, it’s not the thing for ladies to play.”
“I’ll teach you.” Tony ignored the proprieties, again.
“Would you?” She looked at him, grinning, and he saw how her whole being lit up.
“It’s easy. Here.” He picked up the cue stick again. “Just hold it like this,” and he demonstrated. “Now the goal is simply to hit your own—we’ll say the stripes are yours—with the cue ball so that they fall into a pocket. You have to get yours all in before I do. That’s the simplest way to play.” He handed her the cue with a smile.
“Alright. That sounds easy enough.” She frowned in concentration, trying to decide which should be her target. Tony didn’t help her, but appeared quite content to watch her. “How about the purple striped one, by the corner?”
“That’s the one I would have picked. But it will be a tricky shot. Now see…” Tony leaned over her to point out the obstacles. Phoebe felt every inch of the contact, and was suddenly breathless. “You’ll have to hit the cue on the opposite side, see?”
“Yes, I think so.” She bent over to take the shot, holding the stick rather uncertainly.
“Like this,” he said, leaning over her again, guiding her hands with his own and showing her exactly what to do. He then released her hands, but stayed where he was, virtually covering her body with his own. Phoebe caught her lip in concentration, then took the shot.
The cue wobbled, but she managed to send the ball the right way, and it tapped the purple one with just enough force to send it teetering into the pocket. “I got it!” Phoebe exclaimed happily.
“Well done.” Tony smiled behind her, straightening up and taking the cue from her. “Now it’s my turn.”
He had already selected the shot he wanted, and lost no time directing the cue ball to bounce against the rail once and then tap first his chosen ball, then another one into two separate pockets.
“Oh,” said Phoebe. “I’ll never be able to do that.” She gnawed her lip with consternation.
“Stop that,” Tony said.
You’ll ruin your perfect mouth
. “All it takes is practice.”
“Let me try again.” Phoebe reached for the cue stick. She turned to the table again, searching for a clear shot. “The blue one, perhaps?” She looked at him for support, as well as because she was simply happy to see him again.
“Perhaps,” Tony said in a teasing voice.
She smiled at his tone. “I bet you I can.”
“I didn’t take you for a gambler, Miss Hartridge,” Tony goaded her. “What do you offer as forfeit, if you lose?”
“What do you suggest?”
“How about a kiss?” he proposed, looking at her with his ice blue eyes. The words came to him almost without thinking, but he found himself hoping that she would accept the wager…and lose.
Phoebe inhaled, startled by the suggestion, but also delighted by it. “Very well.” Her heart suddenly pounding, she turned back to the table and lined up her shot. She was utterly distracted by the idea of kissing her knight in shining armor, though, and the stick wobbled. The cue ball missed its target entirely, and dropped into the hole itself. “Oh, dear,” Phoebe murmured.
“That may be two kisses,” Tony noted clinically. “It’s very bad to lose the cue ball.”
Phoebe put the stick down and turned to face Tony. “I guess that’s the danger of gambling. I am ready to pay up, sir.”
“I was only teasing, Phoebe. You don’t have to,” he said very quietly, searching her face for a clue to her feelings. He hadn’t forgotten what he looked like. It had been a mistake to bring the idea up.
“But I…I want to.” Phoebe whispered. “Fair’s fair.”
“If you’re sure.”
“Quite sure.” Phoebe tilted her head up, and rose on her tiptoes, shaking slightly on her weak leg. Tony felt her tremble, but mistook it for fear. “Phoebe,” he said. “I shouldn’t have…” but then her lips touched his, and he couldn’t speak anymore.
He thought she might taste like honey. He never thought she’d taste like heaven. His arms went around her, steadying her as he returned her tentative kiss with his own.
Phoebe felt the thrill of it arc down her body to her toes. Then, in a single motion, Tony put his hands on her waist, picked her up, and set her on the billiard table, bringing her head level to his. Seated firmly on the table, Phoebe no longer shook, so she brought her hands up to his shoulders, clinging to him as he kissed her.
Tony felt her holding him, and he couldn’t believe how good it felt. Her hands touched his shoulders, his neck, and then his face. Phoebe had taken absolute control of the kiss, holding him to her, instinctively caressing with her thumbs even as her fingers kneaded gently into his hair. He realized belatedly that she was touching his scar. That thought was just jarring enough that he pulled away. “Phoebe, we should stop.”
“Yes,” she agreed, her eyes heavy with a newfound emotion. Then she smiled impishly. “But only because I think I’m sitting on a billiard ball.”
Tony laughed out loud. He couldn’t help it. “Oh, darling,” he said. He lifted her up again, as if she weighed nothing more than a leaf, and reached to the table to sweep all the offending game pieces away from his angel. The billiard balls rolled, clicking as they went. He set her down on the table again, unwilling to step away.
“Was that one kiss?” Phoebe asked. “Because I think I owe you another.” She reached for him again, this time circling his waist with her arms, drawing him close to her, into the space where her knees had parted. Tony leaned against the edge of the table, unsure where this was going.
“Tony?” Phoebe asked, a question in her eyes.
“Yes?”
“Do you want another kiss?” There was an unaccountable vulnerability there. Did she not know how desirable she was?
Tony answered her by lowering his mouth to hers, by wrapping one hand around the back of her head, feeling the silky hair that had fallen free in their last kiss. Phoebe breathed in slowly, savoring every touch.
The two clung to each other, each suddenly free to explore the other as they had only in their dreams. The kiss fractured into many, with Tony laying down dozens of lighter kisses across Phoebe’s face and neck, listening to her delighted breaths of awakening desire. Why had he thought this could never happen? He couldn’t remember. For once, he was able to cast off the past that haunted him and live for the moment. A moment that was more delicious than anything he remembered.
Phoebe clung to what she hoped was her sanity, her head spinning under the gentle assault of kisses. Tony held her as steadily as a rock, allowing her to give herself up to the feeling. Was this kissing? How did people stand it? She could barely think.
Hearing the soft, tantalizing moan Phoebe let out when his hand grazed her breast, Tony knew that if he didn’t stop now, he would do something he’d regret. With a tremendous effort of will, he pulled away from her. He was having trouble breathing. “Darling, this can’t go on.”
She looked at him with desire coloring her eyes, her lips full and red. “I wish it would. I…I’ve been thinking about you.”
“I’d be lying if I didn’t admit the same.” Tony took two steps back, until he was leaning against the bookcase. It helped, but only a little. Seeing Phoebe’s whole, ripe figure in that simple gown was still torture. He tried to think of a way he could be near her without being driven mad. Then, something occurred to him. “Phoebe, will you dance with me?”
“I can’t dance,” she said, coming back to reality. “I told you that.”
“I’ll teach you.” He heard the faint sounds of music coming from the great hall. “Trust me.” He held out his hand. By rights, he shouldn’t feel so confident in his own abilities. But after that kiss, he thought he could do anything.
Doubtfully, but wanting to be near him again, Phoebe slid off the table and stepped toward him. Tony held her in the correct embrace of a dancer, grateful that it provided a slight space between them. “Can you hear the beat?”
Phoebe cocked her head. “Yes, softly.”
“Dancing is perfectly easy, since the gentleman leads. When you feel me push just so, you move back. When you feel me pull, step this way. You can’t fall, darling,” he said, seeing the look in her eyes. “I’ll never let you fall.”
Tony began to move her in the pattern of the dance. Phoebe felt it strange at first, but she was so secure in his arms that she didn’t think once about her leg, finding that is was easier than she thought to keep from balancing on her weak foot. She was overwhelmed by how tantalizingly close he was to her. If dancing would let her get this close to him, she’d gladly learn. She looked up at his face, and thought that she’d never seen anyone who looked so much like a proper knight. Captured by his ice blue eyes, she felt herself wanting to get closer to him, and suspected that she was falling in love.
They moved in a lazy circle around the room, Tony murmuring encouragement and guiding her with only light pressure. “You’re a natural,” he said, smiling. He had forgotten that he hated the way he looked whenever he tried to smile now.
“Or you’re a good teacher.” Phoebe replied. “Billiards and dancing, all in an hour.”
“You forgot the kissing.”
“No, I certainly didn’t,” she said, looking at him with serious eyes that were filled with an emotion he couldn’t quite name. He wanted her to keep looking at him like that. His grip tightened around her waist.
The formality of the dance did serve to dissipate the sharpest desire, but they were both aware of a tension between them, one that Phoebe did not fully understand, but that Tony knew would exist between them until their wedding night. Tony didn’t even know when he had decided that Phoebe had to be his. Possibly the moment he saw her. All he knew was that Phoebe deserved the highest honor, and that he had no wish to live without her. And he did have the means to change his future, if he dared.
“Phoebe!” They both heard the voice coming from the hallway. “Where are you, girl?”
“Oh, no! It’s Nan, that is, Mrs Brown. I’m afraid I have to go.”
“It might be best if I did not accompany you out,” Tony said, aware that Phoebe’s reputation could be ruined if it were known she had spent an hour alone in a room with him. He held her hand in his own for a moment. “Can I call on you tomorrow?”
She blushed. “Of course.” Then Phoebe leaned over to him and offered a final kiss, one that served to tantalize them both. “Good night.” Before she could embarrass herself by confessing to something she shouldn’t, she hurried over to the library door around the corner, leaving Tony in a delighted haze. He didn’t move for a long moment, too surprised by the night's events to fully comprehend them.
* * * *
The next day dawned bright and cold, the sun shining on a new blanket of snow. Phoebe had somehow slumbered deeply, despite being sure she’d never sleep again. Nevertheless, she woke early. She dressed with care, changing her outfit three times, and then went downstairs to await Tony. He hadn’t promised that he’d come at any particular time, but she began peeking out the front parlor window at ten o’clock, the earliest acceptable hour one could receive visitors in the country.
Phoebe’s fidgeting finally got to Nan, who insisted that she sit down and stop ‘shuttling around the house like a mad cat.’ Nan was no fool, and a few well-worded questions got nearly the whole story out of her ward. The first meeting, the dance last night, and his promise to see her today. Nor was the older woman at all surprised to see the captain galloping down the drive at twenty past.
Phoebe’s heart jumped when she heard the sound of hooves outside, and when Nan stepped aside to let a tall shadow inside, her insides melted. Tony stood in the entrance as if he’d always belonged there, asking Nan very properly if Mr Hartridge was at home before flashing a quick smile at Phoebe.
Mr Hartridge was at home, of course, and Phoebe introduced Tony to him when he came into the hall. The appearance of the soldierly man startled Hartridge momentarily, but he soon grew voluble, seeing how well Captain Sterling and his daughter got on. Phoebe asked diffidently if it would be all right to go for a brief ride with Captain Sterling. Her father assented with a mild warning to not take all day. Shortly afterward, Phoebe found herself riding Dasher, trotting next to Tony’s horse in the wintry air.
“I gather that my appearance passed muster,” Tony said. “Or your father would have tossed me out. Which way would you like to ride?”
Phoebe pointed to the road leading north. “That way, I think. And why should you think there was ever a chance my father wouldn’t approve of you? Are you hiding something?” She threw an arched glance at him, then spurred Dasher forward, forcing Tony to catch up with her. They rode briskly along the narrow road, which wound past farms and wooded patches, until it came to a crest overlooking a wide valley.
“Here we are,” Phoebe declared. “This is one of my favorite views. In summer it’s even better.”
“I like it just fine now,” Tony said, although he was not looking at the landscape.
Phoebe colored at his comment. “Do you?”
“It has a certain charm,” he replied. He angled his horse closer to her own, reaching out to catch her chin. He lowered his mouth to her own, giving her a long, slow kiss.
She reveled in the feeling of his mouth on hers, the contrast of heat with the surrounding cold. When he pulled away, she drew in a shaky breath. “Well,” she whispered. “That is…well. I liked that.”
His mouth twitched. “I admire your honesty, Miss Hartridge.”
“If you call me that again,
Captain Sterling
, I shall be angry.”
“How would I assuage that anger,
Miss Hartridge
?”
“You would have to be very kind…Tony.”
“But I am not kind.”
“You are,” she insisted.
“I suppose I should be content with being thought kind, since I will never be handsome or dashing or anything else.” A hint of bitterness crept into his voice, unbidden.
Phoebe frowned. “You are all of those things.” She watched his face. “You must believe me.”
He stared across the valley, not speaking.
She sighed, not sure what had destroyed his mood. Casting about for a distraction, she pointed. “If you look all the way across the valley, you can see Banstoke Hall.”