When the waistcoat hung loose and parted, he shrugged out of it in a masculine roll of his shoulders that made it difficult to draw in air. That bit of clothing was also flung aside. With his gaze still focused intently on her, he reached up and flicked three buttons of his shirt through their holes, revealing the tantalizing hollow in the center of his collarbone at the base of his throat. Her tongue touched her upper lip when it desperately wanted to taste his skin there.

He dropped back against the wall, crossed those magnificent arms over that incredible chest, and produced a smile that was at once wicked and tempting. “I wonder what forfeit I shall ask of you when the time comes.”

The time wasn’t going to come, but she did wish she was bold enough to purposely miss simply to see where he might lead her. No doubt into a temptation she’d never known. It did not bode well that her fingers had tightened around the cue to such an extent they’d gone numb. Releasing her hold, she shook out her hands, opening and closing them to get feeling back into them. Regaining her equilibrium, she stated succinctly, “Wonder all you like, but it will be for naught. I have no intention of making a miscalculation in my shots.”

And she didn’t.

“Do you know anything about your mother?” she asked.

“I assume you’re not referring to my mum, Ettie Trewlove, but to the woman who gave birth to me.” His tone didn’t hold the bitterness it did when discussing his father, but she sensed a bit of sorrow, remorse, perhaps even regret. “I don’t know anything about her. I assume she was his mistress, but that’s only speculation on my part.”

“I can’t imagine how difficult it is not to know everything about your past.”

“I accepted the circumstances of my birth long ago. Ettie Trewlove made them not matter.”

“I’m glad.” She didn’t like thinking of him as a young lad, picked on or beaten because of a situation over which he had no control. Well aware that people were not always kind to those born in shame, she didn’t want to consider that her plans would involve her child being labeled as such—or worse—if the truth were ever discovered.

Taking a deep breath, she moved into position for her final play. She glanced over at him. For the lack of tension in him, he could have been stretched out on clover beneath the shade of a mighty oak watching as the billowy clouds passed by. “You seem rather relaxed for a man on the verge of having to fulfill all my demands.”

He lifted a shoulder in a careless shrug. “I’d always intended for you to win, but I’d expected to have to work at the losing.”