A breath left him, one that she hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His eyes heated, turning to molten steel. “As to that, there is always the future.”
Her knees wobbled, her heart thumping. “Is there?”
“God, I hope so.”
His tone was fervent, so unlike the emotionless Angel that she had to smile. At the same time, insecurity niggled at her. What had changed for him last night? What had prompted him to act on his attraction at last? For so long he’d wavered on their relationship. What guarantee did she have that his feelings wouldn’t change again?
Before she could work up the nerve to ask, the duke called her up for her turn. She went to the line and tried to concentrate on the target. Holding the green dart at eye level, she aimed and let it fly. It plunked in the outermost ring, farther from the center than Emma’s dart.
She returned to Gabriel. “I’m not very good at this,” she said ruefully.
“You just need practice.” Though his expression was impassive, his eyes smiled. “I’d be happy to lend a hand with your form, princess.”
Her pulse took on a staccato beat. Goodness, a flirtatious Gabriel was even more devastating to her senses than an enigmatic one. Recalling that he’d used the same endearment with her last night, she said shyly, “Why do you call me that?”
“Princess, you mean?”
She nodded.
“Because you remind me of a story. The princess locked in the tower.” His low, husky voice made goosebumps rise on her skin. “From the first time I saw you, I wanted you to let down your hair for me.”
Thea’s breath left her in erratic surges. She felt lightheaded. Any more of this and she might faint with happiness. Luckily, Emma’s cheer interrupted them. The duke had landed a dart in the ring closest to the center.
It was Gabriel’s turn, but he passed Thea the feathered projectile. “Try again.”
“Now, you go. We’ll lose otherwise—”
“It’s just a game.” He steered her toward the line. “Bring your arm back a little more, like this.” He positioned her arm, so that her hand was near her right ear. His nearness stole her breath, his clean male musk making her giddy. “Try to keep your shoulder and arm relaxed; think of it as throwing from your elbow.”
She concentrated, trying to follow his advice. She threw, and the little arrow thudded into the circle next to the bull’s-eye.
“Well done, Miss Thea!” Freddy said.
Rather pleased with her improvement, she smiled. “Thank you, dear.”
Emma’s next throw missed the board completely, landing in the molding around the window, a mere half inch from the glass. She gave her husband anI-told-you-solook.
Gabriel handed Thea their third dart. Again, he helped place her arm into position. “This time,” he said, “snap your wrist a little to give it extra speed.”
Her dart landed even closer to the center than her last one.
“Nicely done,” Gabriel said. “You’ve got the touch for this.”
His approval sent a wave of warmth through her.
The duke went last for his team. His arrow landed in the red, just a smidgen left of center. That was that, Thea supposed. No one was going to beat such a shot.
When Gabriel held out the final dart, Thea shook her head. “Please, you take a turn. I want to see your form.” Realizing how that sounded, she blushed.
“If you insist.” Smiling faintly, Gabriel didn’t even bother to step up to the line. In fact, his eyes didn’t leave hers, and in a movement so natural it looked like he wasn’t aiming at all, he let their last dart fly.
It hit the board with a decisive thud. Dead center, Thea saw with amazement. The target vibrated from the power of his throw, a few of the other darts loosening and plummeting to the ground.
Freddy let out a whoop. “You won, Papa!”
“Not bad, Tremont.” Strathaven’s brows lifted. “Done this before, have you?”
“A time or two.”
