Page 24 of The Duke's Hellion

Although it was improbable for her body and face to be reflecting the heat she still felt, she was quite sure her face was giving something away. So she had told Sam to go on ahead of her and she would follow shortly.

She willed her body into submission. Telling her heart to stop pounding, knocking on the door of her ribcage as if it were the shackles, rather than the protection from the outside world. And her feet. She commanded those to stop tapping, stop rocking back and forth over to heels and back. Her hands were a trifle more difficult to constrain. The clammy beads of sweat weren’t particularly good listeners, and the only action that worked was to swipe them along the fabric of her skirts until the beads learned their lesson; that is, this was not a welcoming time or place for perspiration. Not that she knew any welcoming times or places for a lady to perspire.

Those few extra moments had given her just enough time to commandeer her emotions and school her features to what she hoped was her normal brazen self.

When she joined her sister and Chris, she noticed Nobi fidgeting. Fussing with invisible flint on her sleeve, tucking awayalready tucked hairs, and shifting her weight slightly from one hip to the other. Birds were chirping in the trees surrounding them, and some of the other guests were sitting on the grass on blankets provided by footmen at the ready. Conversations were flowing. Except between Chris and Nobi.

“What’s wrong?”

Chris and Nobi exchanged a glance. Nobi looked away first.

“Nobi?” She watched her sister half shrug one shoulder. “Chris?”

He didn’t answer her directly. Instead, he prompted Nobi. “Should I tell her?”

Nobi raised her brows at him as if to say she didn’t want Mimi mad at her, so he may as well be the one to break the news.

“Tell me what?” Mimi stamped her foot on the ground. This was getting ridiculous. What would Chris have to tell her that Nobi couldn’t do?

Chris cleared his throat, a last attempt at getting approval—or dismissal—from Nobi. “We think you should throw the tournament.”

“What?” She couldn’t have been more surprised if she had faked it. “Why in the world would I do that?” That was her asking calmly.

“We”—he cleared his throat again, looking one more time for Nobi’s encouragement—“think that if you want to sed–secure Roger’s attention, that he would respond more favorably if you…didn’t beat him.”

Oh. He was that type of male, was he? The normal type. The type who couldn’t handle a woman besting him.

Well, that was not the type of man Mimi wanted for a husband. Not only that, but she was pretty sure Roger was not actually that type. Otherwise, why would fate lead her to him in such an incontrovertible fashion?

She placed her finger on her cheek. “Let me think about that—no.”

“No?” Nobi asked with a half surprised half delighted look. It was the type of indecisive look that admired her response but also questioned it at its core.

“No.” Mimi tossed her hair back. “Of course not. I will not throw the tournament. I could no more do that than cut off my own arm.”

At that moment, Sam had stepped up and joined the conversation casually, and not as though their bodies had been sandwiched together moments ago. Apparently he wasn’t very affected by the event. That made sense. “You would be the kind to cut off your own arm if you needed to.”

Well…that was a compliment of sorts. She thought. She supposed if she were desperate, trapped, and her life depended on it, she could do it. She had a strong will to survive. And not just survive, but to live. She had far too many dreams and fantasies to live out yet. In fact, by her count, she had yet to live out even a single one of her dreams or fantasies. And now, thanks to the bodily collision between her and Sam, she had some tangibles to add to her fantasies. Not that she would be envisioning his particular shade of dark hair, strong jaw, and warm brown eyes. And she certainly wouldn’t recall his unique scent of tea and whiskey, with a hint of sandalwood. The sandalwood part was added courtesy of the collision.

“If I had to,” she flipped him a look, “I guess I would. But I’m not that desperate—and before you can counter that point, let me tell you, I amnotthat desperate.”

“Nor will you be if you listen to your sister. She’s a wise woman.”

“This was your idea, Nobi?” Mimi found that hard to believe. Though Nobi wasn’t cut from the same cloth as Mimi in terms of their competitive natures, Nobi had her own skills thatshe would never diminish. Mimi knew that with the utmost confidence.

But Nobi only nodded.

Well…that was shocking. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good—” Sam started to say in that rumbling deep voice of his.

“I have made no promises. I just said that I’ll think about it.”

And she would think about it. She planned to think about it. But that’s all she would do with it. There was no way on God’s green earth that she would ever consider playing small so another person could feel better about themselves and not be overshadowed by her.

“Do you want to be right or do you want to win?” The question struck her dead center in the heart. Her competitive nature balked at the idea that she couldn’t have both. She wasn’t naive enough to think that she was always right—just mostly right. And although she wasn’t conceited enough to think she would always win (she did have Boudicca, Joan, and Zenobia for sisters after all), she was extremely confident—one might say—in her skill sets. But the fact that he would call her out and challenge her on such an intimate topic in front of others, rankled her.

“I can be both.”

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