Forsaking the Prize (The Wild Randalls 2)

Her heart raced. “Not often.”

“Then play against me. I promise to play fairly. I won’t let you win just because you’re a lady.”

Blythe frowned. “I think he did let me win unfairly once or twice.”

Tobias’ lips brushed her skin again in a soft caress that added to her confusion. “A fair game?”

She looked up. “A fair game.”

Tobias grinned, and then swung away to collect cues and arrange the billiard balls on the table while she hunted for her scattered wits. What had come over her to behave in such a way? She pressed her hands to her cheeks.

When he returned, his expression held no hint of wickedness; just his usual impertinent smile. He held up a penny. “Heads or tails?”

“Tails.”

Tobias flicked the coin into the air, caught it and then slapped it onto the back of his hand. When he uncovered it, tails was visible. She’d won the toss.

Tobias moved back from the table with an exaggerated bow.

~ * ~

In the heat of battle, no matter how certain the outcome, a man must keep his wits about him. Tobias had no need to let Blythe win at billiards because he would surely lose. Billiards was not his game, not yet at any rate. He was still learning the art under his brother’s tuition. But in matters of desire, he was not prepared to accept defeat as easily. The game he played with Blythe was not one to rush, no matter how good she tasted.

Blythe lined up to take her shot, leaning over the table slightly. The position did nothing to dampen his arousal. His gaze caught on her rear, more defined because she’d stretched over the table, and stayed.

Damn but she was a tempting wench.

She took her shot, balls cracked against one another and he quickly looked at the table. She’d sunk a ball with her first shot, and had another to take. His breath caught as she lined up for her next. She faced him, teeth clamped over her lower lip, focused on her goal and oblivious to everything.

Those pale green eyes of hers fascinated him. They showed everything she felt at any given moment. She desired him. She enjoyed kissing him. How much more he could experience would depend on her and his patience. Every desire uncovered was swiftly followed by guilt lit large across her face. Did she feel she’d been unfaithful? Tobias assumed she did and that was why he could break away so easily.

Thanks to his past, he knew nothing good ever came easily. He had the distinct feeling that having Blythe into his bed would certainly be worth the wait.

When she sunk another, her face broke out into the widest grin he’d ever seen cross her face without the young duke being present. She was lovely when she smiled. Beautiful and true. A faithful, exciting woman.

She missed the next shot and her smile dimmed.

Tobias stepped up to the table at her side. “Bad luck, my lady. You were doing so well, too.”

Her smile returned. “That’s the best run I’ve ever had.”

He nodded rather than answer. He didn’t want her pleasure in the game to disappear too quickly once she’d realized she was feeling happy. When he took aim, his shot went wide. Damn. Her good mood must be the distraction. He was usually a little better than this or he wouldn’t have suggested a game in the first place.

She took her shot, sank two balls easily, but when it was his turn she stopped him. “You’re not holding the cue stick properly.”

“Oh,” Tobias said as he straightened. He’d thought he’d copied Leopold’s grip perfectly. “What am I doing wrong?”

She touched his hand, the one at a distance from the tip and wriggled her fingers beneath his. “You look awkward. You’re arms are long. You should hold the cue further down so your strike will be true and strong.”

He shifted his hand to the end. “Like this?”

Her hand slid over the back of his as she nodded. “Now try.”

He would if she would let him go. Eventually she snatched her hand back, granting Tobias his freedom. He approached the table again, getting used to the different grip. As he stretched out over the table, he did notice the difference. His shoulders were more relaxed with this posture. He lined up to take the shot and for a change landed a solid hit. Satisfaction flooded him as a colored ball wobbled on the threshold and then fell into a pocket.

“Well done.”

He looked back over his shoulder. Blythe grinned at his success. He straightened and moved toward her. Her eyes widened, her cheeks reddened, her lips parted. Although tempted to kiss her again, he merely stroked his fingertip over her cheek. “Thank you, B.”