Page 23 of Once a Scoundrel

The scoundrel knew exactly the effect his words had on her, and a crooked grin pulled at his lips, as if daring her to flirt back. But she wouldnever, and certainly not with him!

“Then I suggest,” she bit out as she placed her foot on her ball to hold it still, then pulled back her mallet, “that youpracticewith Lady Rathbourne.”

She swung with all her might and struck her ball, sending his flying off the course. It sailed toward the chestnut plantation and fell out of sight among the trees.

With a smug smile at her stroke, she took a second swing at her own ball and sent it bouncing down the alley, to land within ten feet of the iron ring. “Good day.”

She slung the mallet over her shoulder and strode away, humming happily to herself and relishing the heat of his irritated gaze on her back as she went.

*****

Damn damn damn!

Stephen bit back a curse as he searched through the trees for his ball. Faith certainly wasn’t making this easy on him.

But then, why should she? She was right before, when they were walking in the lane and she’d admitted to how much he’d hurt her when he’d left. He’d broken her trust, and although she was one of the most loyal people he knew, once her trust was broken it was extremely hard to get back.

“There are more important things to win than pall mall,” he mumbled the reminder to himself as he pushed a bush aside to search the undergrowth. Like Faith’s heart. And when it came to that, victorywouldbe his.

He snagged his sleeve on a brambly bush and rolled his eyes. Even if it killed him.

A speck of yellow beneath a fern leaf caught his attention, and he blew out a breath of relief at finding the ball. Now he could return to the game and spend the rest of the afternoon flirting with Faith until she came to accept his attentions or ran out of plantations on Hartsfield Park where she could send his ball. Good thing she hadn’t taken up archery.

A rustle of fabric sounded behind him, the soft tread of slippered feet beneath the trees.

He smiled. So the little hellcat had come after him. Although he knew she’d followed him only to gloat at his misfortune, life in the military had taught him to take his victories wherever he could get them. Especially since it meant that they were alone in the trees where no one could see them.

He snatched up the ball and teased, “Did you bring the mallet to finish me off?” He turned around, fully prepared to be attacked by Faith’s wit—and froze. “Lady Rathbourne.”

“Dunwich.” The viscountess smiled flirtatiously as she came toward him through the trees, her bonnet dangling by its strings at her side. “You’re a very difficult man to get alone.”

Not difficult.Impossible,as he’d been completely avoiding her. “It’s a large party. Lots of guests.” Apparently with one even prowling through the trees after him. “I fell into the rough.” He held up his ball. “I want to finish the game, so if you’ll excuse me—”

She stepped in front of him, blocking his way. “You’ve been back in England for three months, yet you haven’t been to London.”

“I’ve been busy with my estate.” He frowned, wishing she would leave him alone.

Instead, she tugged off her gloves and rested her bared hand on his arm. “I’m certain you have been. Which makes one wonder...”

He stiffened with wariness. The damned woman made him feel like prey. “Wonder what?”

A wicked smile curled slowly at her full, red lips. “How much you need to be distracted from all that work.”

She stepped closer, trapping him between her body and the brambly bush. Given her reputation, the bush possessed less thorns.

His jaw tightened, and he said icily, “Lady Rathbourne, please step aside.”

Ignoring him, she reached up to unfasten the buttons at the front of her dress, giving him what would have been an unobstructed view of the top half of her breasts if he’d bothered looking. Which he didn’t, keeping his eyes firmly on her face. Although he’d never thought it possible, he had no interest in her bosom.

“What other games might you like to play, hmm?” She pressed herself against him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He grabbed her arms to put her away from him and said in a low growl, “You are mistaken.”

She gave a throaty laugh at that and slid her hand down his arm to his wrist. “One of the finest rakes in England returns after four years in India, where there were no sophisticated English ladies to satisfy you...” She lifted his hand and brought it to her breast. “Surely, my lord, you’re in the mood for all kinds of play.”

“Not with you.” He tried to pull his hand away, but her hold only tightened, earning him another laugh as she pressed herself into his palm.

“I assure you that I can be quite entertaining.” She trailed her lips across his throat as she murmured, “And very pleasing.”