Chapter 26
The hailstorm of terror at his words never came, as she had imagined it would if she ever found herself in this predicament with a man.
Any man. But her body was frozen like ice, even as her pulse raced, shock at his words making her momentarily speechless.
If she were honest, perhaps she was more compelled and curious at his words.
This was the biggest shock of all. Quite unlike his suggestion of riding with him alone on the moor.
She’d been horror struck, recalling where she’d been when Ross had attacked her.
One of Falcon’s platitudes popped into her head.
Keep the focus on the mission. But she was having a hell of a time keeping anything in her head at the moment except the exquisitely gorgeous man standing across the billiards table, his dark eyes focused on her with primal intent.
She bent down, snatched up the cue stick, then straightened.
Had she thought Slade chivalrous? He’d no doubt kept his roguish qualities hidden until now.
“We all saw Swindlehurst kissing you in front of Harbert and Company in Birmingham a few days ago. What has brought on this need for kissing all of a sudden?” Phoebe said.
His eyes widened, as if something had just dawned on him.
“We?” he asked.
She cleared the discomfort from her throat, aware she was behaving like a jealous woman. “Lucia, Martha and I,” she said.
“Ah, I see.” His lips stretched into an amused smile, before continuing. “I have no interest in the laundress. However, the becoming flush on your face when you are jealous, is most intriguing.”
His dark and sultry tone was quickening her pulse and the pace of her breathing. There was something undoubtedly enthralling about him, even preternatural.
She leaned forward and braced her palms against the table deciding to ignore his last comment. “Am I at a double disadvantage if you win?” she asked.
He gave her an assessing stare. “How so?”
“Well if you win, I not only have to kiss you, but you’ll tell Egan about my affairs,” she said.
He regarded her with cool superiority. “Let me clarify. Regardless of whether you win or lose, I’ll only tell Egan if you do not refrain from putting yourself in danger.”
Her knees weakened in relief. Her job as a spy for the Movement, which he clearly had his suspicions about, was a dangerous one, but she had no plans to give it up. However, there was no need to inform him of any of this. The only item on the table seemed to be the kiss.
She scrutinized him. “One kiss?”
He sent her a devilish smirk. “One kiss.”
She persisted. “Nothing else?”
“Nothing else,” he drawled.
She straightened, defiance piercing her insides. “What if I say no?”
He shrugged. “Well, you’d leave me quite despondent. I must ask, however, if there is anything else you have with which to bargain. Perhaps you can tell me all about this mysterious Jacobite friend of yours if I win?”
She shook her head in vehemence. “Out of the question. One kiss it is.”
He sent her a lazy smile. “We have an accord.”
If not more interesting, their bet certainly made the game more daring.
But since she was practically an expert at billiards, she would best him.
And she wouldn’t have to worry about kissing him, she told herself.
She was mostly not worried about kissing him.
Phoebe maneuvered the cue stick in line with the white ball and a corner hole, the one ball in the middle.
She took aim and struck with sufficient strength.
The white ball clanged into the one ball, sending the latter straight into the hole.
The white remained on the table as she’d intended, spinning on its spot while the one rumbled into a side pocket.
Triumph made Phoebe straighten and eye Slade, her chin victoriously high.
“You should make yourself comfortable where you are. I, unlike you, will not sacrifice victory for courtesy,” she said.
He grinned. His relaxed confidence irked her. “Incidentally, have you accomplished all you needed to before we leave for the Highlands?” he asked.
Phoebe considered her next shot, responding to his question. “I’ve accomplished all I wanted to and am in fact eager to leave.”
Slade leaned against the edge of the table. “Excellent. I’ll speak with Peter and Lucia and make the arrangements.”
Spotting her next shot, Phoebe leaned over at the waist and aimed with her stick.
With a gentle tap against the white ball, causing it to bump ever so slightly against the two, she landed the shot then straightened, taking in Slade from beneath her lashes.
He looked amused and not in the least bit worried that she would win.