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He grabbed that one, too, and she giggled. “I think it’s your move, my lord,” she said blithely. “If you don’t make a move, we’ll be here all night.”

Deuced impudent woman. If he let go of her foot to move his piece, she’d return to stroking him. In his present state, it wouldn’t take much more for him to explode.

Too late, he remembered her delight in making him lose control that day in the cottage. Why, the little minx wanted him to explode, didn’t she? Here, with an avid audience…

By thunder, he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Releasing her foot, he darted his hand above the table to move his knight out, but before he could return to restraining her foot, she grabbed his hand above the table.

“Are you sure you want to make that move, Lord Templemore?” she asked in a perfect image of innocence. “I’ll not hold you to it if you change your mind.”

“I’m sure,” he snapped and tried to tug his hand loose unobtrusively.

In the meantime, her foot stroked him with a frenzy. Wild images clouded his mind—of her naked and spread-eagled beneath him, with her hot little mouth uttering sweet cries of excitement and need and want…

Yanking free of her hand, he jerked back his chair, which scraped the floor loudly. Everyone turned to look at them as her feet dropped harmlessly down. He forced a smile for the other players’ benefits, and they returned to their play.

Devil take her, he was hard as stone. And though she’d brought him to the brink of embarrassing himself, she sat there looking as innocent as any wide-eyed miss.

But she wasn’t done yet. While he was still reining in his heated fantasies, she leaned forward, captured a pawn with her queen, and smiled in triumph. “Check and checkmate, my lord.”

Feeling like a trout clubbed by a fisherwoman, he stared down at the board to see her queen placed irrevocably in the winning position. She’d won. The blasted wench had actually beaten him!

Not that she’d played fair. But then, neither had he.

While he gaped at the board, she ducked under the table and found her slippers. When she popped up again, she said in a carrying voice, “Well, sir, I believe I shall go find another game. This one isn’t nearly challenging enough.”

He grimaced when the players at the nearest tables chuckled. Wonderful. It wasn’t enough for her to leave him aching with a desire he couldn’t possibly satisfy—she had to bludgeon his pride and his reputation while she was at it, the vengeful sprite.

Looking disgustingly pleased with herself, she rose and tried to hurry past him, but he caught her arm. “Surely you’re not so cruel as to leave me before I’ve had a chance for satisfaction.”

Though she still wore a smile, a sudden despair flickered behind her eyes. “I’ve given you too many chances already, my lord,” she said softly. “Eventually a woman has to cut her losses.” Then she wrenched free of him and strode off.

He would have gone after her at once, except that his breeches weren’t yet fit to be seen. So he sat there stewing, pretending to examine the chess game. Cut her losses? What the devil did that mean? She’d won the game, for God’s sake! She’d even won their more private skirmish.

Or had she? It suddenly occurred to him that her words held a certain finality. As if she’d grown tired of waiting for him to settle matters with his brother’s situation. As if she were giving up on him.

Panic spiraled in his belly. What if she’d truly had enough?

She certainly hadn’t made it easy for him to see her lately. In truth, she’d been ignoring him. But that didn’t mean she’d given up on him. Making him think she had might be just another of her little tricks.

Still, he’d expected her to give in long before now.

Ah, but the young, naive Juliet was gone forever, thanks to him. He’d been as guilty as her family of leaping to conclusions about her, assuming that she’d come around as she always had, forgive him as she always had. After setting the gossip to rest, he’d expected her to leap gratefully into his arms. And when she hadn’t, he’d thought physical pursuit might persuade her.

What a stupid ass he’d been! Juliet was a grown woman now, and when a grown woman of character set her principles, she didn’t change them on a whim.

Quickly, he rose from the chair and set off across the card room at a ground-eating stride. He had to find her; he had to settle this once and for all, before he lost her for good. He’d almost reached the door when he heard a sly voice murmur, “It seems the young lady isn’t that delighted by your offer of marriage either, Templemore. Every time I see her, she’s avoiding you.”

He paused to glare at Montfort. “At least she hasn’t turned me down.”

“Yet.”

Yet. The short word had long repercussions, exploding in his brain like a badly designed pistol. He had no answer for Montfort, and no time to trade insults, either.

Turning on his heel, he went looking for her. But she wasn’t anywhere, not in the drawing room or supper room, not in any of the other public rooms. He planted himself outside the ladies’ retiring room, but a young lady who came out told him she wasn’t there either.

As he left the hall, he spotted Lady Rosalind coming toward him. She was alone, thank God, so he accosted her. “Have you seen your sister? We haven’t yet finished our discussion, and now she’s vanished.”

“As a matter of fact, I spoke with her not five minutes ago. She told me she was taking the carriage home and would send it back for Griff and me.”