Page 55 of My Hellion, My Heart
Irina ran her hands across the gorgeous red felt of the billiards table and rolled one of the white balls sitting in a felted box along its length. Max had taught her the game when they were in Paris, and she found that she’d enjoyed the play and its structured mathematical nature. Irina looked around. Where was that scoundrel anyway? She intended to give him a good piece of her mind on the way back to Stanton Park.
She placed the valuable pure ivory ball back into its box and nearly leaped a foot into the air as a lean shadow uncurled itself from a darkened corner of the room. “Are you going to play or just roll the balls around?” Henry asked, approaching with a drink in hand.
Irina’s breath caught as she scanned the room for any other hidden bodies. They were alone. Well, not truly alone. A footman stood just beyond the door, which remained open. Henry prowled closer, and she had the sudden urge to back away. Not because she was afraid of him…Irina was more afraid of herself. She always seemed to lose every shred of sense and dignity wherever he was concerned, and she’d meant what she’d said earlier. Ignoring her scattered pulse, she straightened her spine. “I was looking for Max.”
“He disappeared. Perhaps he decided to take some air.”
Irina frowned at him, her reply sour. “You both needed some air.”
Henry didn’t respond, only stood staring at her with that unfathomable look of his. He sipped his whiskey.
“Would you like to play?” she asked, gesturing to the table after a few moments of awkward silence.
“No.”
Of course not. And why would he? She’d given him the direct cut, asking him to keep his distance and not to kiss her again. He was simply playing by her rules, it seemed.
“All right, then,” she replied, tapping another ball before starting away from the table. “I’ll leave you be.”
She’d barely turned her back when he said, “The cracking noise. It’s not ideal.”
Irina stopped and turned back to him, her heart tripping as a rush of pity filled her. He would not appreciate the sentiment, however, so she only smiled and nodded.
“However,” he went on, placing his drink upon the mantel with a smirk. “If you were to crack the balls softly…”
Irina couldn’t stop the answering grin that surged to her lips. “I am certain I could be gentle with them.”
She was rewarded with a short bark of laughter. “Gentle? I fear that any man who allows his…balls near you will find themselves in the gravest of danger.”
“My lord!” Her jaw went loose, and she stared at him, her laughter bubbling up. Henry’s light humor reminded her of easier times…of happier times. Though she didn’t quite trust herself with him, it was worth the few seconds of actually hearing him laugh. It was something he no longer did often, she knew. “Though you’re probably right.”
Henry vaulted an eyebrow in challenge. “Come now then, Princess,” he said, grabbing hold of a nearby playing stick. “Let’s see this skill of yours.”
…
Henry braced himself for the first scattering of the three billiard balls over the felt. He’d allowed Irina the first move, and to his relief, she was indeed gentle as she sent the ivory cue ball marked with a black dot forward. The muted crack still held enough power to send the red ball landing straight into a side pocket.
“Well done,” he murmured as he lined his cue up. “Two points.”
“I’d like to claim that it was intentional, but alas, it was mere luck,” she replied.
“Never divulge your strategy,” he said, standing tall again and eyeing her from across the table. She was gorgeous in that gown, the back dipping so low Henry could see the soft, delicate skin of the small of her back; the curve of her spine and the play of slim muscles as she walked.
“In billiards or in general?” she asked.
Henry watched her eyes settle on the table. He took his shot with his plain white ball, striking hers before sinking the red ball into a corner pocket in a clever combination shot. “A cannon. Well played,” she complimented.
“Thank you. In general,” he replied. “And when luck strikes, never claim it as such.”
Her lips pressed into a concentrated grin, and she took her turn. The cue ball knocked into his white ball, which rolled into a pocket and disappeared from view.
“Thatwas not luck,” she said, making a small and playful curtsy.
Henry felt the tension that had built between them at dinner beginning to dissolve. She’d commanded him earlier to keep his distance, and he had absolutely no intention of doing otherwise. He’d said his piece—or almost all of it—about what it was he wanted, but she hadn’t given him the opportunity to explain all. That he wanted to take more than just carnal pleasure in her. That it was her company he sought and enjoyed. Moments like the one unfolding right now.
“Are you going to take your turn?” she asked, and Henry realized he was standing still, staring at her.
He was slow to move, something inside of him molten and heavy. Irina started forward, concern lancing through what had been a cheerful expression.
