Devilish Page 0,32

the torso is usually effective."

"But this is perfection for perfection's sake, is it not, my lord? As with machines?"

"Ah. Then by all means let us see who is the most perfect machine."

When the white paper had been pinned behind the red heart, he sighted. An interesting challenge, which appealed to his sense of absolutes, of precision. His first shot went very slightly off, he thought, though it was hard to tell at a distance. The second, too. When the papers were brought to him, everyone gathered to study them.

"The exact mark!" Steen exclaimed. Rothgar was fond of Steen but the man did not think in terms of absolute perfection.

"No, a trace of white shows," he said. "Bryght, your turn."

Bryght shook his head. "I see no point in this. What good does it do?"

"You disappoint me. Think of it in mathematical terms. There is right and there is not right."

"With figures I grant you, but not with this. I bow out."

"Elf?"

Elf shook her head, too. "I know I cannot do it."

Rothgar turned to the countess. "I trust you will not disappoint me, my lady."

She already had her first pistol in hand. "Of course not. It was my suggestion."

She again took that purposeful stance. He wondered who her weapons master was, for the man was good. At the same time, he couldn't help wishing he had the training of her. She needed to go a little further into the mind, into the soul, to achieve the level she sought.

But then again, perhaps not. He watched as both pistol balls hit the dead spot. Among cheers the papers were retrieved and studied.

"A touch of white too," she said with annoyance.

"But less, I think," Bryght said. "Let's take these back to the house and find some way to measure them. That appeals to my mathematical mind. By gad, Bey, I think she's bested you!"

"Which clearly brings solace to your bitter heart. Lady Arradale, do you fence?"

"Bey - " Bryght protested, but the countess merely smiled.

"Yes, but not as well as I shoot. I lack a daily training partner."

He only just caught himself from offering a bout anyway.

His height, reach, and skill would make it no contest at all, but even without that, it would not be wise. All the same, he'd like to test her mettle with a blade, too. He was sure she was devilishly good.

Chapter 9

Diana led the way back to the house, outpacing the others deliberately to avoid conversation. Simple matters immediately became complex with the Marquess of Rothgar. She sensed a mix of approval and disapproval in him, and berated herself for caring.

She did care, however. She cared what he thought of her, and she wanted to win.

An hour later, after many cups of tea, and the use of measuring sticks and a magnifying glass, the contest was declared to be a draw.

"Did you notice," Lord Bryght asked his brother, and Diana thought she saw a glint of amused speculation in his eyes, "that you were both off a fraction to the northeast?" He picked up the four hearts and laid them one over the other.

Diana took them and riffled through. Not identical, no. That would be beyond reason. But he was right. The error in all four was in the same direction. She took the two that belonged to the marquess and offered them. "A keepsake?"

"A treasure," he said, putting them into a pocket with a slight smile. "This time at least I managed to contrive a draw."

Elf leaped up. "Diana, I'm told you are skilled at that wretched game of billiards. I am determined to learn, but the men cannot teach me. They have no idea..."

Diana allowed herself to be swept away on a tide of chatter, and by a very firm grip on her hand. She resisted an urge to look back. There was nothing intimate in his manner.

Nothing. It was all her imagination, and she should be grateful to Elf for rescuing her.

She helped Elf to learn the game then escaped another challenge. She could probably beat most of the men at billiards, too, but she was beginning to feel all the awkwardness of her unusual skills. Worse, there was always the chance that the marquess would be her equal and create that strange connection she was fighting to ignore.

Intolerable if he defeated her.

She took refuge again in work. Two peaceful hours with her secretary and paperwork were exactly what she needed. They steadied her, but that seemed to open the way to clearer thoughts.