Page 14 of The Hellion and the Captain
“Perhaps,” she hedged.
As he leaned in closer toward her, she backed away. He noticed and frowned.
“You’re a good player. But you’re making this difficult,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. She took a moment to study him, inspecting him from head to toe.
Rhys wore a full, well-kept beard that framed his strong jaw and lent an air of gravitas to his already commanding presence. His dark hair was swept neatly to the side, the thick waves tamed but not overly polished. His tan chest and a few hairs peeked out of the top of his shirt, and Emmaline had to work hard not to bite her lip.
“I want to be here,” she blurted, knowing what all of this was – concern that she wouldn’t fit in with the team, that she didn’t have what it took. “I know I seem as though I don’t belong here, but I will work on that. I promise you.”
He nodded just once, up and down, as his eyes bored into hers so intently, she felt naked.
“See that you do. I don’t want to be made a liar.”
With those parting words, he jogged down the hill as easily as if he were out for a Sunday stroll.
Emmaline watched him go, realizing, for the first time, that this might not be as easy as she had thought it would be.
Chapter Five
“You are certain about this?”
No. He wasn’t certain at all. But he had made the decision, and he couldn’t go back on his word now.
Rhys shifted uncomfortably in one of the wood-framed spoon-back chairs that surrounded the long table in the club’s offices, where the club committee met monthly to discuss club matters. As captain, he usually appeared for the first ten minutes of the meeting to provide an update on the team itself.
“Yes,” he lied. “The man has obvious skill and would be a good fit for outside right winger, which is Joey’s position.”
“And when Joey returns?” Mr. Nesbitt continued his questioning. He was technically the head of the club committee, although all knew that as the club’s main financial backer, Lord Harcourt, who was now Colin’s father-in-law, held most influence when it came to decision making.
“He will not return until next season, and at that time we can evaluate who is better suited for the position and who might need to be moved should everyone return,” Rhys said.
“Very good,” Mr. Nesbitt said, his reddish-brown mustache twitching as he pushed his glasses farther up his nose. “Well, thank you for your opinion, Mr. Lockwood. We will take that into consideration. Can you tell us about Mr. Williams’ profession?”
When Rhys had prepared for the meeting this morning, he had known that question would be coming and realized that he had never asked. He looked it up on the form Williams had filled out upon arriving to the team. It was the first time he had ever had to do so, for he usually came to know the men in the hours they spent together off the field.
It was why he had been reluctant to recommend the man.
“He works in shipping,” he answered.
“In what capacity?”
That was the problem. He had no idea.
“I believe he works in the offices.”
He had to. If he worked a manual job, he would be in much better condition and have a much harder look to him. The only sign that he had any tenacity was the fact he had made it through all of the training and all of the testing Rhys had put him through without a word of complaint or a hint that he was not enjoying himself.
“Very good,” Mr. Nesbitt said. “Do you have any further reports?”
“Only that I have high hopes for this season and we are looking forward to the first match,” Rhys said.
His answer must have been satisfactory, for he was dismissed. It was only a few hours later, while sitting at his desk, that he received the missive. The club committee had agreed with his recommendation.
Emmett Williams had made the team.
And now it was up to Rhys to tell him so.
“Mama? I am leaving for Lily’s!” Emmaline called into the front parlor, where her mother usually worked.
