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Marcia tensed her mouth. “Very well,” she said tightly.

Rothesby motioned between her and Andrew. “The happy couple may play first.”

The happy couple,she mused wryly. How manyhappycouples spent their wedding night with their husband’s confirmed-bachelor friends?

“Oh, no.” She brought her palms up, holding her stick aloft. “I’d… benefit from watching the game play further.”

Rothesby inclined his head. “Let it be a consolation that you took lessons from the best, my lady.”

“Andrew is the best?” she asked, perking up, and Andrew gave her a quick little wink.

A wry grin formed on the duke’s mouth. “I referred to myself, your first instructor.”

“About as memorable for Waters’ bride as you are with all the ladies,” Landon said and laughed at his own joke, with Rothesby taking that good-natured ribbing.

“Landon, have a care with your mouth around my wife,” Andrew snapped.

“Ah, but she is one of the fellows now. Isn’t that right, love?” Lord Landon flashed what she expected would be a devastating smile to any other lady and followed it with a wink.

Both left her remarkably unmoved.

Marcia lifted her head solemnly. “One of the fellows,” she allowed.

Landon and Rothesby played through, racking up points until the turn switched to Marcia and Andrew.

Her husband drew her close and whispered near her ear, “Just recall your lesson, and remember, it is just in good fun.”

Oh, she remembered every one of those lessons. But she had been a girl and not aware of Andrew’s body wrapped around hers then.

“Good fun doesn’t end with a person standing to lose one thousand pounds, Andrew.” She’d intended for her pronouncement to be firm and steady, but it emerged breathy, as her voice became whenever he touched her.

With another wink, Andrew turned his attention on the table and made quick work of it. Given there were one thousand pounds on the line, she should be attending the game.

But, God help her, she could not keep her eyes off of him.

He was tall and impressive and graceful even in game play. As he brought his arm back for each shot, the muscles of his biceps strained the fabric of his shirt, and her mouth went dry, and she could fix only on that fascinating ripple of material as it outlined his powerful form.

Her husband was a magnificent specimen of masculinity.

My husband.

My husband.

She toyed with those words in her mind, playing them over and over again. The litany became as dangerous as this sudden preoccupation with Andrew Barrett’s form.

“Your turn, love.”

A startled shriek slipped out, and Marcia jumped at that sudden interruption.

Andrew held the cue stick out, and she accepted it with trembling fingers.

Drawing in a deep breath, she forced her thoughts away from her husband and on to the game. Putting all her attention on the table, she leaned over and let her cue stick fly.

It immediately cracked the red ball, which in turn snapped against the back of the velvet table and sprang forward, colliding with the other balls, which sent two more balls flying. She made quick work of the remaining two, knocking them out in a matter of seconds before setting her stick down.

Silence, to match the one that had greeted her when she’d joined Andrew and his company, filled the room. Only, this proved to be the stunned kind.

“I believe that is one thousand pounds each, gentlemen,” she said, dusting her palms together.