Page 17 of Married By Twelfth Night
Grace laughed. “Did the letter P give it away?”
Bridget nodded. “I know how you love a good fragrance.”
Richard’s brow quirked. He hadn’t known this about her. Is that why she always smelled wonderful? Her scent was never overpowering but more like a soft, delicate flower. He was tempted to lean toward her so he might better describe it to himself, but the movement of tiles reminded him to focus on the game before him. He had more important matters to pay attention to than discerning scents.
Bridget took a turn, then Tobias, and finally Ruth. Ruth’s word was simple: music. She did not seem wholly invested in the game. Was it so hard to be away from home? Or was it his company? Or the game?
Soon enough it was Richard’s turn again. Time to add a little spice to this round. With one finger he pulled tile after tile toward him. Once he had a decent pile, he slid them in front of Grace.
She gave him a questioning look.
This was going to be fun.
Her fingers moved the pieces, lining them quickly like little tin soldiers. This was not a challenging word. It was a strategic move. He started off the counting himself. He set his hand on his chin, hovering much too close.
He knew the moment she saw the word. Her eyes widened slightly, and the softest pink began to fill her cheeks. Was . . . was she blushing?
“Adoration?”
She said the word carefully, as if not trusting it. More pink settled on her face. It didn’t look like the flush of anger that their interactions tended to bring out. Had he embarrassed her?
“Interesting choice, brother,” Bridget said slowly.
Tobias snickered. “I’d say. But it’s just a silly game. He cannot really admire her. It’s Grace, after all. She drives men away with her smart words and glares.”
Grace’s blush faded in an instant.
Richard frowned at the lad. “Apologize at once, Tobias. Your sister deserves your respect.”
Tobias’s face turned sheepish. Richard knew the lad looked up to him, and he hoped he’d take his words to heart.
“Sorry, Grace,” Tobias muttered. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
Richard glanced down at Grace, who for once, seemed without a ready response.
She cleared her throat. “You are forgiven.” She jumbled his tiles together as if they had never existed and gathered some of her own. She surprised him by sliding them his way.
He fully expected an insult.
OCIERH
He spotted an R for ridiculous, but there were not enough letters for that and too many to use the C for cad. What other insults might Gracie May fancy?
Seconds ticked by while he moved the letters around, his fingers stilling on the last tile. “Heroic?” He shifted the last tile into place. Sure enough, that was the word. He swung his eyes to Grace. Her bold gaze met his.
“Why, Miss Steele. How unexpectedly charitable of you,” he said, his voice dropping a little lower than he intended.
She didn’t bat an eyelash. “I do have my moments.”
This was definitely one of them. Her eyes appeared more green than blue in this light, or was it more blue than green? Either way, they looked uncharacteristically lovely.
Her pert pink mouth settled into a challenging smile that no man had yet conquered, but surely dozens had tried. Not him, of course. He knew his boundaries. He swallowed and finally broke the strange connection between them. Perhaps this is why they were better off as sparring partners. Anything else felt unsettling.
Bridget went next. She slid her letters to Grace. Grace had always been quick at this game—or every game for that matter—but she hesitated as she lined up the last few letters. “The word isconfused.”
His sister was another smart one, and she had caught the shift he and Grace were attempting to make. She didn’t look angry, thank goodness, but no other emotion settled on her face. He would wager to guess she was still deciding what to make of them.
“I suppose I am next,” Ruth announced. “The carriage should be readied now, so this will be my last turn.” She gathered a few tiles and passed them to Bridget.
