Free Argent (Hundred Days Series Book 3) by Baird Wells

offer.” She swallowed and fumbled a retreat. “And I think you've misunderstood me. That night was --”
                  “Wait!” He grabbed her wrist and halted her escape. “Just your company today. I did not mean to imply more. Only that I'm certain you amuse yourself with something besides reading.” He held out the glove for her anxious fingers.
                  She searched him with a tight expression, and Spencer had the sense of being weighed.
                  Finally, she tucked the glove into her apron without meeting his eyes. “I'm a fair opponent at cards. I play billiards, though I'm not much of a challenge. I ride but not in company. Side saddle on a horse is like hanging under a carriage to get somewhere; no enjoyment. I like good brandy, good chocolate.” She shrugged. Her shoulders were tense, eyes guarded, but she wasn’t leaving and for now that was enough.
                  He clapped hands together, rubbing eagerly at the progress they were making and then swept an arm toward the door. “Let's begin with cards and follow with brandy.” He held his breath and waited for her protest.
                  Instead she perked up, and pressed an exaggerated hand to her mouth. “Lord Reed, it's barely noon.”
                  He nodded, heart thrumming faster. “Already halfway through the day. We have some catching up to do.”
     
    *              *              *
     
                  Alexandra couldn't bring herself to look directly at Spencer, who was setting out their tumblers on a sideboard. All along he had been her masked stranger. And he'd known it. A burn in her cheeks doubled while the realization sank in. She still couldn't reconcile that the broad fingers unstoppering the brandy had also tangled in her hair, brushed her waist. Lips cocked up now in a small smile had kissed her own. More than embarrassment, she suffered another sharp pang of disappointment at John’s poor timing.
                  Spencer set the glasses between them atop a round card table easily meant for three times as many players. Its nicked, scuffed, tawny wood said it frequently saw such a crowd. She claimed her brandy, swirled it and inhaled. It’s warm, sweet aroma filled her nose, adding to her thrill at being admitted to Spencer's inner sanctum. The room was obviously intended for himself and masculine company; it was bold and tasteful, shadowed by navy velvet drapes. Tan leather and dark wood carried the theme. A billiard table imposing enough that the room might have been built around it occupied the room’s far side. Alix could practically feel heat from a white marble firebox, hear raucous laughter of gathered men, their camaraderie scented with sweet tobacco and citrus gin. Her heart beat a pace faster.
                  Spencer settled across from her, palmed their deck of cards, and held it out.
                  “No,” she laughed, splaying her hands. “My fingers are too short. You'll end up with creased cards and a mess.” Grace and dexterity had never figured among her better qualities.
                  “Fair enough.” He nodded and began to deal. She watched him while he was absorbed in the process, his stern left brow furrowed to mimic the concentrated lift of his mouth.
                  “Do you know,” he asked, still counting out their hands, “that I am always aware of your watching me?”
    She snapped her gaze to the tabletop, winning a lusty chuckle.
                  Spencer hadn’t shown himself to be anything but a gentleman during their time together, but they were crossing lines now at full sail. His expectations for how their day would conclude might not be as innocent as she’d envisioned. Gathering her cards, she cleared her throat. “Lord Reed, what happened in the garden --”