Page 33 of Juliet's Touch

Juliet hopped her feet together and touched her nose.

“Tree,” Emily said.

Nodding and grinning, Juliet held up two fingers.

“Second word.” Emily sent her husband a satisfied smirk.

He folded his arms across his chest and stuck out his bottom lip. Of course, the couple’s theatrics didn’t fool anyone. They were thoroughly enjoying the friendly rivalry, and beneath their contemptuous glares, their longing for one another crackled.

“Get on with it.” Alexander grunted. “Or forfeit your turn.”

Emily spun on him. “You hush.” Thereupon, she faced forward. “Hurry up, Jules.”

Lord Chesterhill chuckled. “Play nice, children.”

Mr. Stone exhaled, and Juliet swore she felt his breath blowing across her neck, which was utterly ridiculous since they were a few arm lengths from each other. She needed to concentrate. Resuming her tree stance, she swayed from side to side.

“Tree blowing in the wind,” Emily sang out.

Juliet tapped her nose, then clapped enthusiastically. Emily’s arms shot into the air in victorious triumph.

“Sugar and Spice, six. Snips and Snails, four,” Lord Chesterhill called.

“Bloody hell, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Alexander said. “They are winning because you are giving them things that a child on leading strings can act out. ‘Emily, act like a cute kitten. Alexander, act out William Shakespeare eating a pork pie while being chased by a vampire with purple hair.’”

“Poor loser.” Emily flicked her husband’s nose.

Instead of getting angry, his lids hung heavy as if he might pounce and kiss her in front of God and company.

Of course, Alexander was correct; Lord Chesterhill was showing favor to the sisters. Yet, since it was all in fun, Juliet pulled her shoulders back as if she were an award-winning thespian. She was annoyed with the slippers, so she strolled past them and sat with all the aplomb of a queen, bare feet and all.

The marquess curled his finger, calling Mr. Stone to him. “Your turn, Eric.”

Mr. Stone smoothed his hands over his thighs and stood. Juliet’s gaze remained glued to him the entire time he walked to and leaned over his father. She was still studying the way his muscles elongated and contracted when he took his place in front of the group. She only stopped gawking because Emily slapped her shoulder and sent her a knowing glare.

“Come on, Stone,” Alexander said. “We need to beat these chits.”

Eric stood in silent contemplation as the rest of them waited with bated breath. Then, his eyes lit up. He removed his tailcoat, which only served to draw attention to his well-formed thighs—that is, until Juliet was distracted by the biceps straining against his too-tight sleeves. Good lord, how much more could she take before she melted all over the drawing room?

Mr. Stone sauntered in a big circle as Juliet produced entirely too much saliva. Perhaps she shouldn’t have drunk that third glass of brandy at dinner.

“This isn’t a mill,” Alexander said. “We don’t need you to peel and strut about like a stallion for us.”

If all boxers resembled feral stallions as they performed for their audience, Juliet had to attend a mill, sooner rather than later.

Seeming unperturbed by his partner’s taunt, Mr. Stone held up five fingers.

“Five words,” Alexander said.

Mr. Stone held up two fingers.

“Second word,” Alexander said.

Mr. Stone dropped onto all fours, and with the grace of a big cat, he crawled. Make that prowled. His perfectly shaped arse cheeks strained the trouser fabric just as much as his biceps strained his sleeves.

Juliet sat forward, her mouth hanging open indelicately. Emily joined her, her eyes wide as she gritted her teeth and pretended to put out a pretend flame. Thankfully, the men didn’t seem to notice the sisters’ state of…well, what was the word one used to describe lascivious shock?

Mr. Stone halted his movement to look up at them. He opened his mouth wide and mimed what looked like a very loud roar.