Passion for the Game

unfortunately for you, I make it a habit to learn the business end of my liaisons before I even consider the pleasure end of them.”

Later, when she was alone, she would reward herself for sounding so strong when her knees were so weak. At the moment, however, she had to face a man who was dangerous in more ways than one. “Tell me what you want from me.”

His slow, easy smile kept her heart racing. “Is it not obvious?”

Perhaps it was her inability to breathe properly that prevented clear thought, but no matter how she looked at their situation, she could not comprehend why he affected her the way he did.

“The woman you arrived with can relieve that for you,” she reminded.

She had her pick of handsome lovers, like Simon. Dark-haired men were her preference. She disliked scoundrels and rogues and consummately arrogant men. There was absolutely no reason for her to be so aroused by the criminal before her.

“I attempted that substitution the other night.” His laugh was a joy to hear. Unlike hers, it sounded as if he gave it freedom often. “I adore Angelica, but sadly, she is not you.”

The image that came to mind of the brunette writhing beneath the golden god before her made Maria’s teeth clench. A silly, stupid, sentimental response she had no desire to feel. “You have one moment to tell me how I fit into your plans for revenge,” she warned.

“I’ll tell you in bed.”

Her brows lifted. “You think to extort sex from me? When it is you who needs help, and not the reverse?”

“You must need me for something,” Christopher drawled, “or you would not have come this weekend or sought me out now.”

“Perhaps it was curiosity,” she argued.

“You have investigators to handle that.”

Maria took a deep breath and slipped her blade back into its sheath in a hidden pocket. “We are at an impasse.”

“No, you are at an impasse. I am ready to move on to the sex.”

One corner of her mouth tilted in a wry smile. “You do realize that the sex is supposed to come after we settle what we can do for one another. If it comes at all.”

Christopher stilled, finding his unwanted fascination for the Wintry Widow sharpening to near painful acuity. Physically, he was staring at the exact opposite of himself. Where he was fair, she was dark. Where he was tall, she was petite. Where he was hard, she was luscious softness. But the brain inside her head was so similar to his, he could scarcely credit it. He had known she would circle the pantheon like a huntress seeking prey, because it was exactly what he would do. And the knife…

…well, he would have been prepared for that if she had not melted in his arms.

What he had not known was that he would reach for her. Until she had tossed her lover in his face, a man he knew was not warming her bed any longer simply by watching their posture together. Christopher had planned to keep things light. Draw her closer. Not frighten her.

But obviously she was not a woman who was easily frightened. She was presently returning his stare with one finely arched dark brow raised in silent query. “Your time is up.”

Then she collected her parasol, moved to the pathway, and headed back toward the manse.

He stared after her, debating whether to stop her or not and then deciding that her egress was so magnificently affected it was too much of a joy to end. So he leaned against a tree and watched her until the flashes of ice blue could no longer be seen. The mere thought of the entertainment ahead made the wait for her almost bearable.

Almost.

Maria took her time in rejoining the rest of the guests. When St. John made no effort to continue their conversation, she knew he would not follow her.

He had approached her in the theater. She had approached him here. The next move was his. She wondered what it would be. Perhaps he meant to wait until curiosity bested her strength of will. If so, he would be waiting a long time.

When she emerged from around the corner, Simon’s gaze found her, and he came to her with rapid strides, claiming her elbow before heading toward the lake.

“Well?” he asked.

“He wants sex. That is all I know.”

He snorted. “We knew that before you met with him.”

“We did not!”

“Very well, then. I knew that before you met with him.” Simon blew out his breath and came to a halt. “We shall hope the man I sent to join St. John’s household succeeds and brings us more to work with.”

“That would be excellent,” she agreed.

“I’d say the pirate is daft, but that would not be true. He is wily and creative, and damned if he did not take me into consideration.”

“What are you talking about?” Tilting her head and parasol back, Maria looked at him, noting his dark scowl and the agitated cant of his torso.

“The female who accompanied him is for my use, not his. She made that quite clear while you were absent.”

“Oh.” Odd how that bit of news made her grin.

“You like him!” he accused.

“I like the way he thinks, Simon love.” Tugging on their linked arms, she drew him along the shore of the lake.

Maria’s gaze drifted to the waterfowl that floated serenely beneath the arched walking bridge. “He is also very observant. He knows we no longer share a bed.”

“We can change that quite easily,” he murmured in a low tone.

Through a lump in her throat, she swallowed hard and said, “Or you can accept the woman’s offer and see what more she’ll tell you.”

He stopped again and glared at her indignantly. “Are you a cock purveyor now?”

“You like her,” she argued. “I can tell.”

“I like parts of her,” he corrected. “Damn it all, do you feel nothing for me? How can you suggest such a thing without batting an eyelash?”

“Are you unaware that I would keep you to myself if I could? If I were a different woman, Simon Quinn, I would lock you away and keep you all to myself. But I am not that woman, and you are not chaste, so do not play the role of wounded lover while making me the villainess. That is a title I earn on my own. It does not need embellishing by you.”

Maria stalked away.

“Mhuirnin…” he called after her.

She ignored him.

“You are creating a spectacle,” he said directly behind her.

Spinning about in a wave of wide skirts, Maria forced him to jump back. “That is what I am here for-scandal and entertainment.”

“He has you flustered,” he breathed with wide blue eyes. “By God, look at you.”

“What does this have to do with St. John?”

“I wish I knew. I would have done it long ago, before you pushed me away.”

She heaved out her breath. “You do not love me in that way, do you?”

“I do love you, mhuirnin.” Simon’s mouth lifted in a rueful curve. “But no, not in that way. I was close once, the closest I have ever been, perhaps will ever be.”

The lone tear that hung on her lashes was her reply. She considered the promise that had once hovered between them to be another casualty of Welton’s machinations. Another death that he would pay for. “I should not