Page 24 of The Hellion and the Captain
“Williams, there you are,” he said in that low, gruff tone of his that had her toes curling. “Family matters squared away?”
Oh yes. That had been her excuse for leaving the other night. Goodness, but that had been quite the situation. When she had arrived at the house of Lily’s former maid, the girl had been so enthusiastic about providing help that Emmaline hadn’t the heart to ask if this was the only dress she had to share. She’d had to return today to exchange clothing, for she needed her practice gear. The girl had obviously been curious as to what was happening, but Emmaline could not risk taking her into complete confidence, so she had provided a vague story about a costume party and had left the girl’s curiosity unsatisfied.
“Listen up!” Rhys began. “First, a gift from the club committee. The dressing area they have been working on is finally ready. After practice, you can change there. It’s nothing fancy, no baths or anything, but at least you have a place to prepare for practice and to change before returning home afterward.”
Oh, no. Emmaline had seen the building under construction but had hoped it would not be ready for a time, at least until the end of this season. She hadn’t foreseen this challenge.
She’d have to focus on that particular problem later, however, for Rhys continued to speak.
“We play the Athletics next weekend,” he said, referring to their rivals, Manchester’s other team. There was even more bad blood between the teams after all that had occurred last season, when their main sponsor had tried to sabotage Manchester Central’s club. “We need to be ready. Today, no messing around. We are going to work on plays and make sure we have proper formation.”
He proceeded to outline what he expected of them, drawing it out on a slate he had brought with him. Emmaline was impressed. Her brothers had played football, but they had never been involved in anything as well organized as this.
That was all Rhys.
For a man who seemed like he was made for physical prowess, his intellect was also to be admired.
She had to blink rapidly to change her focus, hopeful that her admiration wasn’t obvious. It was easier when he was being contrary toward her, when she could lash out against him.
But even then, she had been attracted to him, although she hadn’t wanted to admit it.
Rhys stepped back from the circle and put his fingers between his lips, blowing out a sharp blast of a whistle, commencing practice. Emmaline threw herself into the drills, determined to prove her worth on the team. She weaved between the other players, her feet deftly controlling the ball as she maneuvered across the field. The exhilaration of the sport filled her veins, momentarily pushing aside her worries about Rhys and her secret identity.
By the time they began their scrimmage, Emmaline was tired, though she tried to hide it, not wanting to admit to any sign of weakness.
Soon enough, the ball was at her feet, and she feinted to the left, trying to dribble around Jonny. She was too slow, however, and he anticipated her move.
His elbow connected sharply with her ribs, sending a jolt of pain through her body. Emmaline stumbled, barely maintaining her balance as she fought to keep control of the ball.
Gritting her teeth, she pushed through the pain, refusing to show any weakness. She couldn’t afford to draw attention to herself, especially not from Rhys. Emmaline focused on her breathing, trying to ignore the throbbing ache in her side asshe continued to play, although she hung back from the action more than she had before.
She looked from one side to the other, biting her lip when she saw Rhys, far too observant for his own good, watching her, brow furrowed in concern. She jumped back into the play, trying to distract him from any thought of injury.
Just when she thought she could grit her teeth and make it through practice without any additional discomfort, the dark clouds that had been threatening all day finally opened up, and water started falling in a deluge.
The field instantly muddied, and all the players slowed, wondering whether they would continue.
“A few more minutes!” Rhys called out, collective groans answering him. “We’ll play in games like this, so push through it now!”
While a small part of Emmaline wanted to run from this field as fast as she could, no longer interested in seeing this practice through, she grounded her feet and allowed her determination to grow. She pushed herself harder, her passes crisp and accurate despite the mud and her pain and fatigue, her shots on goal powerful. She refused to give anything less than her best, making no excuses. Not rain. Not injury. Not lack of conditioning.
When Rhys finally, mercifully, blew out a whistle signaling the end of practice, a mixture of pride and relief rushed through Emmaline. She had survived her first real practice with the team, even if it had come at a cost. The men practically sprinted toward the new building, but she hung back, stopping outside so that she was standing beneath the roof’s overhang, out of the rain. She looked down, grateful that she had wrapped her breasts, though with the wet clothing clinging to her, it might still be obvious to anyone who looked closely that there was more to her chest than that of a typical man.
She had to get out of here.
She would slip out once they were all within. This was the first day the dressing shack was available. She could be forgiven for not being prepared.
She thought she was the last one off the field, that no one would notice her hesitation.
She thought wrong.
“Good work out there today, Williams,” came a gruff voice behind her and she cringed. “You took a hard hit,” Rhys continued, his voice containing both admiration and concern. “All well?”
Luckily, he was busy collecting footballs and wasn’t scrutinizing her as intently as usual.
Emmaline straightened her shoulders, ignoring the twinge of pain in her ribs as she kept her body angled away from him, finally bending to unlace a shoe. “I’m fine, Captain,” she assured him, deepening her voice to maintain her masculine disguise. “Just a little knock. Nothing to worry about.”
Rhys paused for a long moment as if trying to discern the truth behind her words. Emmaline didn’t meet his gaze, knowing that if anything would give her away, it would likely be her eye color, so rare it was, but still she refused to let any flicker of discomfort show on her face. Finally, he seemed to accept her answer.
