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Landon released a long groan.

Rothesby tossed his head back and roared with laughter. “It appears we’ve been swindled by your wife.”

Andrew’s features were a harsh mask, impossible to read.

“Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me,” he said, and she tried to interpret his tone, but could not.

“Happy to do so before she takes our damned properties,” Landon muttered, returning his cue to its proper place on the wall.

Rothesby inclined his head. “Worry not, Marcia. He’s merely jesting.” He paused. “Landon lost his properties long before you came along.”

The marquess flashed a finger, pulling laughter from the duke. But when he looked back at her, there was a new seriousness to the gentleman. Rothesby took her right hand in his and drew it to his lips the same way Andrew had moments ago and gave her knuckles a kiss that lingered as much.

It was also a kiss that left her feeling remarkably flat.

“It was a pleasure, Marcia,” he murmured, squeezing her fingers lightly.

A moment later, Andrew’s friends filed from the room, and Andrew followed them. For a moment, she thought—feared—he intended to leave the room with them. But he stopped and closed the door behind them with a click that resonated as powerfully as thunder in the quiet.

Leaving Marcia and Andrew alone.

They’d been alone any number of times before this one. Too many to count. Most of those instances had been when she’d been a child and underfoot while he’d been attempting to sneak some peace and quiet for himself.

But this proved their first time alone as a married couple.

Andrew turned back, a scowl stamped on his features.

He was annoyed and disapproving, also firsts for her.

Marcia dampened her mouth. “I’ve displeased you,” she said.

He strode over.

Nay, not strode—stalked. His steps were the languid ones of a lion she’d once observed at the Royal Zoo.

“Oh, no,” he murmured, the moment he reached her. “Anything but.” He caressed his fingers lightly over the curve of her hip, and her mouth went dry when he suddenly gripped her hard, drawing her close.

“T-truly? B-because you seem angry.” Her voice emerged as a breathless whisper.

“Oh, I am not angry,” he whispered, placing a kiss on the curve of her neck.

Biting her lower lip, she tilted her head to better open herself to his worshiping mouth. “N-no?”

“Oh, no.” Then he slid his palms under her buttocks, scooping that flesh as he pulled her against him. So close, she felt the long line of his erection. “I found myself impressed.”

A little laugh escaped her. “You are impressed that I swindled your friends?”

“I’m impressed beyond measure by the ease with which you swindled youropponents.Especially those bounders.”

Holding his neck, Marcia angled back slightly so she might meet his eyes. “And here I never knew that billiards could be a game that inspires desire. It is—”

He covered her mouth with his, kissing her into silence, and she was happy to surrender the dialogue and herself to him.

Sighing, she let her lips part, and he swept inside, tasting her, and she tasted him in return. All the while, he touched her, his long, strong hands exploring the slight curve of her hip, the flare of her buttocks.

Then, reaching up, he slipped the bodice of her dress down, exposing her bosom to the air.

She gave a little quiver that had absolutely nothing to do with the slight chill that hung in the room.