Page 27 of One Bed for the Bluestocking
Colin, Arthur, and Roderick huddled around her.
“Buck up, Kit,” Arthur muttered.“It’s not over yet.”
“It’s all but over,” Kate said.“Let’s face it—I’m not likely to knock down all nine pins.”
Roderick shrugged.“Whatever happens, it won’t change the fact that ye’re a decent sort of chap, and he’s a whinging, two-faced prick.”
Kate felt a twinge of guilt.Speaking of being two-faced, she doubted Roderick would feel so warmly toward her if he were to learn that she wasn’t a “chap” after all, and that she had been lying to him for the entire duration of their friendship.But she settled for saying, “Thank you, Roderick.”
Her hands felt clammy as she approached the head of the alley.Surely enough, the ball dribbled into the fence.Her second shot was better but still veered off course a couple of feet shy of the pins.
A feeling of acceptance settled over her as she scooped up a ball to make her final attempt.She wasn’t any good at this, but that was all right.It was just a silly game.It wasn’t as if it mattered.
Iain strolled over, a smug smile on his angular face.Kate forced herself to smile and was surprised to find it wasn’t too difficult.After all, she didn’t base her self-worth on her facility at skittles.“I think congratulations will soon be in order.”
Iain smirked.“You’ve made a fool out of yourself, if you want to know the truth of it.”
Kate waved this off.“Most probably so.But that’s all right.It’s no secret that I’m not much of a sportsman.”
Her unbothered response seemed to annoy him.“How can you stand there and act like you don’t care?Every man with an ounce of pride should have a basic competence at tests of skill such as this, even an Englishman such as yourself.”
It occurred to Kate that this had probably been the wrong thing to say.For a young man to admit to a lack of athleticism was about as likely as him admitting that he was lost and asking for directions.
Oh, well.It was too late now.She shrugged.“If you say so, Iain.”
He glowered at her.“What kind of man are you?”
His voice slowed as he reached the end of that sentence, and a flare of awareness came into his eyes that Kate did not care for.The situation worsened as his gaze swept down the length of her body, pausing as he reached her waist.
Oh, crikey!Iain might not be much of an artist, but he had likely practiced figure drawing enough to perceive that there was something odd about her proportions.
His eyes snapped back up to her face.They were full of shock.
Kate’s fingers began to tremble.She had a sinking feeling that her disguise had just worn thin.
She turned on her heel and strode toward the head of the skittles alley.“I suppose I should get this over with.”
Kate heard Iain’s footsteps behind her in hot pursuit.“Hold a second, Witherspoon.”
Ignoring him, she drew back her arm to make her final throw.
She was just about to release the ball when Iain grabbed her left shoulder, right on top of the padding she had carefully stitched in place.It was her non-throwing arm, but it startled her enough that she stumbled, sending the ball careening down the alley.She tripped over Iain’s foot, and the two of them went down in a heap.
From her vantage point, face-down in the dirt, she heard the pounding of approaching footsteps.Iain had landed beside her, his arm sprawled across her back, and his hand resting on her waist in the precise location where she had sewn in the padding.She felt his fingers probing her side, trying to discern what was beneath her coat.Panic coursed through her.
Abruptly, Iain was jerked off her.Someone grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet.
“What the hell, Galbreath?”Roderick bellowed.
“It was an accident,” Iain protested.
“Accident or not, it was unsporting,” Colin said coldly.
Iain gave him a baleful look.“It wasn’t as if he was going to win regardless.”
“Is that so?”Arthur gestured to the end of the alley.“Look.”
Kate squinted toward the pins.Much to her astonishment, they were all lying on their sides.
