Elise moved with feline grace, and her glorious mane of red hair tumbled freely down her back. His mouth went dry, and he could scarcely take his eyes off her. Pulling her hair to one side, she tossed a set of three darts in quick succession. Each tip struck the narrow band between the center and outer circles, exactly where the ref had called them.

A self-satisfied smirk flirted with the corners of her lips as she stalked away from the throwing line and picked up a draft from a nearby table. She took a sip, her eyes passing over the room and Harry without the slightest flicker of recognition.

Guilty. Harry’s judgement gavel banged.

Part of him stirred with admiration. Not even a blink of surprise had shown on her face when she’d spotted him. Harry tipped his head in her direction and conceded to her superior skillset. She was on her own scouting expedition, and he wanted to know why. Had she pried information about his mission from Nigel? Or had she, in typical Elise fashion, pieced enough random facts together to figure it out on her own?

“Benson!” The man behind the counter yelled out Harry’s order.

Harry stalked across the room, picked up their dinner, and then brought it back to the table.

“Lady Elise is here.” Sammy shifted in his chair.

“I saw her. Unless she acknowledges us, it’s best not to bother her,” Harry said as the three competitors started the next round.

Elise tossed a dart and hit the red wedge above the center bullseye. The slightly inebriated crowd roared.

“Is she winning?” Sammy slid off his chair.

Harry clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder before he could scamper away. “I mean it, Sammy. Let her be; you’ll distract her.”

“I want to watch. She’s brilliant.”

“Lady Elise is good at most sports. Stay here and eat your food. That lot’s had too much to drink.”

Harry scanned the faces in the tightly packed space to identify Thompson, Hughes, and Matthews from the black-and-white images in their files. He did another pass of the room, his eyes stopping on one of the men in the competition, a dead ringer for Thompson. Harry’s jaw tightened.

What were the odds of Elise happening to compete with one of the three men from his unit?

Guilty and sentenced.

The woman couldn’t help herself; she was an agent to the bone. Unfortunately, this was not her assignment, and Elise needed a swift reminder that this was his mission—not hers. Since the pub was technically off base, Elise was within her rights to attend, innocent or not. If placed in hot water, no doubt she’d play that card.