Page 38 of One Night of Surrender
Isabelle bent and took aim, and Val swore he saw her tremble.Madness didn’t begin to describe it.Because he should go.Instead, he sat there and watched her practice several shots.
A small group—five gentlemen—came into the room, their laughter filling the space.“Glad there’s a table free,” one said.
“Two, actually,” Viola said cheerily.“But there’s five of you.Who’s not playing?”
“We’ll take turns,” one said.
Val rose and went to unlock the ball box.They took two sets and set up the remaining two tables.Soon the billiard room was alive with boisterous conversation and good-natured wagering.
“Are you ready to start the game?”Viola asked Isabelle.
“As ready as I will be.”
At Isabelle’s insistence, Viola went first, scoring a point when she hit Isabelle’s cue ball.Isabelle then hit her ball, but it barely moved.She grunted in frustration as Viola moved to take another shot.
She missed, and it was the start of two missed shots by both of them.On her third try, Isabelle hit the ball so hard, it skipped over the rail and hit one of the gentlemen at the next table in the back.
“Oh!”She slapped her hand to her mouth, and it was such a ladylike gasp and action that Val jumped to his feet.
He swept up Isabelle’s ale and handed her the tankard.“Don’t know your own strength there, Beaufort.”
Her gaze barely met his before she buried it in her mug and took a long drink, draining the vessel.
“Looks like you’re in need of more ale,” Val said.“Allow me to show you the brewery, and you can try a few samples.”It was time for her to go before she completely exposed her disguise.He turned to Viola.“Would you like to come along?”It wasn’t supposed to be a question.
Viola, however, thought it was.“No, thank you.I’ve still some beer left.I’m sure one of these other gentlemen will be happy to shoot in Beaufort’s place.”
“I will!”This came from the odd man who wasn’t currently engaged in one of the other games.Val knew him, of course, just as he knew everyone else in the room.It didn’t trouble him to leave Viola here alone with them.She came to the tavern dressed as a man—the jolly Tavistock—on occasion so that she could pen her column forThe Lady’s Gazette, “Observations on Gentlemen.”
Val couldn’t tell if Viola was aware he knew their identity but decided it didn’t matter just then.He’d tell Isabelle to be more discreet or she’d have to leave.If she chose the latter, he’d come back and inform “Gates” that his friend was ill and needed to depart.
Touching Isabelle’s arm, Val said, “Follow me.”
She hesitated, and he feared she wasn’t going to come.Then she gripped her tankard and trailed him from the billiard room.
He led her through the private salon, then into the kitchen and on to the brewery.As soon as they were inside, he closed the door.
She moved into the center of the room, her back to him.
“What the devil are you doing here?”he asked.
She half turned, her head pitched down, and her voice dropped to that ridiculous level that was amusing and yet somehow also carried a dark sensuality.“I beg your pardon?”
Val strode forward, intent on exposing her scheme.He wasn’t entirely sure how until he reached her, and then it was obvious.He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
The hair of her beard tickled his face, and he might have laughed at the absurdity of it if he hadn’t been instantly swept away by the touch of her tongue as she opened her mouth in surprise.
Cupping the back of her neck, Val dislodged her hat and plunged his fingers into her hair.Pins went flying, and the silken locks splashed over his hand as his mouth danced with hers.
She pulled back, her hand moving to the back of her head and connecting with his.“You’ve ruined my costume!”
“Your costume wasn’t very convincing.Or do you think I go around kissing strange gentlemen?”He was torn between laughter and overwhelming desire.Despite the hair covering the lower half of her face and her masculine attire, he’d never wanted her more.
She dropped her hand to her side.“I’m sure I don’t know.Mayhap you like the feel of a beard.”
“I think I might, at least in this instance.Shall I try again to make certain, or would you prefer to take it off?”
She looked about, then sauntered to a worktable where she set her empty tankard down.Then she faced him, her gaze sultry, and her lips parted in provocative invitation.“I think I’ll take it off.Tell me, Your Grace, does that door lock?”
