Page 72 of The Hellion and the Captain
Sensing eyes upon him, Rhys looked over his shoulder to find Freddie standing across the field from them, arms crossed over his chest, feet planted wide, his dark mustache the only feature Rhys could see from here. His interest, however, was apparent, and Rhys understood. If Rhys could recognize Emmaline’s play in Freddie’s stride, he imagined that Freddie might similarly note Emmaline’s play.
He hoped Freddie was only watching them celebrate in disappointment, but as Emmaline walked over to Lily, who hugged her, he saw Freddie’s eyes tracking her. He more than suspected. Rhys was sure of it.
He sent himself into motion before Freddie could, coming up behind Emmaline.
“Emmett,” he called out. “Offside.”
Her eyes swung around wildly until she noted her brother, who was now moving forward toward them, encouraging people to move out of his way so that he could cut across to Manchester’s side. Emmaline turned her face away, and Rhys could only hope she had been quick enough that Freddie didn’t get a good look at her.
Rhys looked at the two women in front of him. “You need to get out of here. Now.”
Lily nodded, the two merging with the crowd of disappointed watchers filtering down from the stands. Rhys watched them, torn. He didn’t like the idea of them being alone among this vast number of people, but was it worse to stay and risk discovery?
“I’ve got them,” came a voice in his ear as Colin surged ahead of him to catch them, his arm curling around his wife as he looked back at Rhys, nodding at him before accompanying the two women away.
Rhys sighed. As much as he would have preferred to be with Emmaline, he appreciated that she was safe, protected. He could trust Colin Thornton. He had learned that lesson well last year.
He looked back to see Freddie looking around in confusion, seeking out Emmaline, but he was to be disappointed.
This has been far too close. They would have to be even more cautious from now on. Emmaline’s secret still hung in the balance, and Rhys would do whatever it took to protect it – and her.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Emmaline tentatively stepped through the door of the clubs’ bathhouse a week later. She knew that no one else in the club had any idea of what had happened – or almost happened – at the match in Berkshire, but there would still be questions. She had disappeared after the game against Eton, appearing only at the last moment for their post-game dinner before they boarded the train to return to Manchester.
Tommy had inquired about her whereabouts after the game, and she had used the same excuse she had given her family—she had been feeling ill and had retreated to a nearby inn until she felt better.
It was partially true, as that was where Colin had led them to hide from Freddie until everyone had cleared away from the field and they had met up with the rest of the team.
Rhys had given them the rest of the week to recover, and they were finally reconvening. Only one match stood between them and the FA Championship Cup.
All they had to do was beat the Manchester Athletics.
They were a formidable team this season. They hadadded a few players who filled the gaps that had led to their demise last year. Emmaline had accompanied Rhys to attend one of their matches, and she had been impressed — and concerned.
But as Rhys had told her, they wouldn’t be the best if they didn’t play and beat the best.
There was a low murmur as the players prepared for the upcoming practice. Emmaline wasn’t sure if she was imagining things or if more than a casual glance was sent her way, but she sensed a strange tension in the room that she couldn’t put her finger on. It was just… there.
They filed out of the room, forming a circle around Rhys near the bench that Lily had convinced her father to place at the side of the field just beyond his mill.
“Now, men,” Rhys said, beginning his speech. He had confided in Emmaline that he secretly was always nervous about addressing them all, but with each game and practice, he was becoming more confident that what he said truly made a difference. “You all played well against Eton, but it was a close match. We made a few mistakes—no team is perfect—but we need to leave those behind if we’re going to beat the Athletics in the club final.”
Men around the circle nodded their heads in agreement.
“Have we heard anything more from Victor Reeves?” Tommy asked, and all the men swung their heads toward Rhys while Emmaline’s stomach clenched.
“No,” Rhys said, but that set of his jaw told Emmaline that perhaps there was more to the story than he was letting on.
More she would insist on discovering.
Practice was gruelling, but Emmaline was proud of how much easier it had become after her training with Rhys. After practice, he called all of their attention again, but it was only a bit of a triflingmatter.
“Leave your uniforms and we will have them cleaned for the next match,” Rhys said.
“Why?” Tommy asked. “We always wash them ourselves.”
“Yes, but they want us all looking our best for the final. The club committee feels that some of you haven’t been doing nearly as good a job as you should in keeping your uniforms clean. Our colors are maroon and cream – not green,” he said with a few pointed looks, and the men smiled good-naturedly.
