Page 19 of The Scoundrel's Christmas Challenge
“A contest of strength?” asked Lucius, his eyes gleaming as if he’d already won.
“I didn’t say that.” Christiana assumed the men would think so.
“You expect me to pull a piece of wood by hand?” Lord Frederick asked.
“However you think best,” said Christiana.
“I will not.”
“Do you forfeit?” asked Lucius, nodding and smiling at the same time.
“No!”
“You could use your card and pass on this challenge,” reminded Christiana.
“I believe I will,” said Lord Bentson. “Use the card, not forfeit.”
“I understand,” agreed Christiana.
Lord Elwood picked up the rope first and moved it fifty feet before stopping to catch his breath. “Do I get another try?”
“As long as you hold the rope, you may continue,” explained Christiana. “We have until dark.”
Lord Frederick grunted and moaned, pulling on his trunk and moving it a foot. “This is ridiculous. I call foul.”
“On who?” asked an amused Lord Page. He walked over to the panting man, stood next to him, and pointed to the distant house. “Pretend your father is at the house. He has your allowance, and if you don’t get there quickly, he will give it to Jensen, the butler.”
“You think you’re so clever. Let’s see how far you can pull the bloody log.” Lord Frederick sat down on his piece of wood.
Christiana saw Lord Elwood had pulled his log another fifty feet and was panting heavily. She didn’t want anyone to have an apoplexy.
“Elwood, dear, either rest or stop there,” called his wife. “Do you want me to help?”
Lord Elwood rolled his eyes but stopped. “I’ll be fine, my sweet. Just need to catch my breath.”
Lord Page picked up his rope and began pulling the slice of trunk. Even through his greatcoat, Christiana could see the muscular form straining as he passed Lord Elwood in one try. This got Lord Frederick up, and he managed ten more feet before whining about the cold and ruining his gloves.
Within an hour, the flask of buttered rum was passed around. Lady Elwood, Lord Bentson, and Christiana serenaded the log pullers with “I Saw Three Ships Come Sailing In” and “The First Noel” to keep spirits up. When all three men had declared they were done, Lucius had gone the farthest.
“I believe I claim the next point,” he said, rubbing his hands.
“So unexpected,” mumbled Lord Frederick.
Christiana shook her head. “I have not taken my turn.”
The entire group looked at her as if she’d grown horns. She was looking forward to this. “Shall we return to the house? I’m famished.”
Everyone agreed. “But Lady Winfield, you just said you hadn’t taken your turn,” reminded Lord Bentson.
Christiana spoke to the driver, who backed the sleigh up to the last round of wood. She picked up the rope, sat on the iron ledge at the back of the sleigh, and called to her guests. “I’m ready.”
“Wh-what are you doing?” cried Lord Frederick. “That’s cheating!”
Lord Bentson slapped his knee. “’Pon my soul,” he said, laughing. “She didn’t cheat, just outsmarted us.”
CHAPTER 9
Midnight in the library
