Page 40 of The Duke's Hellion

Lost in his thoughts, it took Mimi’s squeal (of all things) to bring him back to the present. Sally and Jacob were walking toward everyone with arms full of arrows.

“A special gift for our guests,” Sally announced while Jacob grinned next to her. They placed the gifts directly in front of Sam and a few hands were quick to reach in and grab their favorite pieces. When he reached his hand in to snag an arrow that caught his eye, his fingers brushed against another hand. Without looking up, he knew it was Mimi. A spark had fluttered between them.

When his eyes met hers, a flicker of uncertainty flashed in her eyes. They hadn’t spoken since last night. He had nothing to say to her. Well, that wasn’t true. He just didn’t know what the appropriate thing to say was to a virgin he had slightly debauched the night before. He had told her there were no expectations, and as far as he could interpret her body language, she didn’t hold anything against him. Only…he wasn’t sure if he wished she would or not.

“Is that what you like?” he asked her.

Her eyes darkened, and he knew she was envisioning the night before. That smallest of gestures of desire sent a pulse through to his cock. But this was neither the time nor the place.

“Do you want it?” Her bewilderment gave him reason to further the question. “The arrow…is that the one you want?” They were both still holding onto the arrow, his pinky slightly grazing over her thumb.

When she nodded, he lifted the arrow out of the basket. Her brows furrowed and it seemed almost as though she blinked back a look of loss.

“It’s yours.” He handed her the arrow.

“Really?”

“Of course. You think I would take it for myself knowing that you want it?”

“I–I–”

And he had his answer. An answer to a question he didn’t even realize he had been asking. She really did think the worst of him. For her to think he would be so selfish as to take an object of her affection for himself…he willed himself to hide his effrontery.

“Thank you.”

“No thanks is required. Really.” He turned and walked away. Now all he wanted to do was get this bloody tournament over with, despite his eagerness earlier to participate.

“Archers, take your places,” Sally called out.

Sam took a second to look around and his eye caught sight of James. A rare sighting indeed. The man must have just shown up. This should be fun.

Chris walked over, taking his place next to Sam. “Are we betting on this?”

“Of course we are.”

Chris laughed. “What’s your bet?”

“Mimi for five hundred pounds.”

At the name and number, Chris coughed. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re not going to throw it?”

Another insult. Sam could feel his insides churning as though the cook was making butter in there. He threw Chris a look. “Do you honestly think I would ever do such a thing?”

Chris shrugged. “For the right woman.”

“Ha! I would never do that.” He struck his finger through the air, oddly mimicking the theatrics of a particularly outspoken and irritating blonde woman he knew. “Do you even know me?” He had no plans whatsoever in throwing the tournament, but he had witnessed Mimi’s abilities, and if he had to bet on anyone, it would be her. Obviously the thought crossed his mind that he should place the wager on himself…but for some reason it didn’t feel right. And hadn’t he told Mimi that he only bet knowing he would win? Well, then…Mimi was the right bet.

Chris shook his head just before the next calls were made.

As they all stood at the ready, Sam took a glance down the line to take note of both Roger and Mimi. He could see the determination in her face. Her body was pulled tight as if it were stressed, but he could sense the calmness in her. She was…inspiring.

Sam released her from his gaze and exhaled, focusing on the target in front of him. She was a worthy opponent, and he wanted to beat her. That sounded terrible, didn’t it? A man wanting to beat a woman at a game that didn’t matter. Yet he knew she was a competitor. In her heart, she was fierce. She would always compete at her best, and she would expect that out of others. At least those that she respected. She wouldn’t respect him if he didn’t do his best. And somehow, her good opinion of him, her respect for him mattered a great deal.

“Ready…aim…fire!”

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