Page 50 of The Duke's Unclaimed Bride
A few chuckles rose from behind Laurence, who gripped his mallet harder. “Do not underestimate me, Duchess,” he murmured.
He took to the spot and lined up his shot. Looking down the path, he could see a bush at the end, close to the target ball. If he could hit the ball just right, it would all be over.
Clack.
He struck the ball with such momentum that it raced down the track, skipping over pebbles. Near the end, it hit a large one, which sent it into the air.
Crunch.
It landed in the twigs and branches of the bush, slowly descending until it was deposited at the base.
Laurence grinned. His ball was closer than the others. He had surely won, and now Edith would?—
“Well, that can’t possibly count, can it?” she drawled.
What?
“Hm, I’m not sure,” Lady Eliza muttered, looking at where Laurence’s ball lay.
“It is still on the path; I see no reason that it shouldn’t count,” Laurence declared.
“It’s in a bush!” Edith argued, pointing harshly. “If one of my balls had landed there, you would be arguing that it is a part of the foliage.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, let us go look,” Laurence sighed.
He began to march down toward the ball, and Edith followed him.
By now, the ball had rolled into the tangle of bushes and trees, resting against some roots.
“See?” Edith huffed. “Out of bounds.”
“I beg to differ,” Laurence said, folding his arms.
“It’s on the roots. The shot should be retaken,” she insisted, turning to face him.
“I think it should stand,” he countered, his voice calm but firm.
“Why are you making such a fuss? Surely it would be more advantageous to retake the shot.”
“You’re only saying that because I’m winning,” he said, a grin tugging at his lips.
“You are not. It shouldn’t count.” She stepped closer in defiance.
His heart gave a sharp kick. She was much too near. He hadn’t been this close to her since their kiss. The maddening scent of her floral perfume coiled around him like a spell, making him dizzy with need.
“I did not realize I had such a competitive wife,” he croaked.
“I am not competitive. I am only being fair,” she replied, her eyes flickering—just once—to his lips.
Laurence noticed. He always noticed.
“You keep saying that,” he murmured, leaning closer. “But I think you only argue with me because you want to see how far I’ll let you go.”
Her breath caught. “That is not true.”
“Oh, I think it is.”
She tried to hold her ground, but he was already in her space, his gaze fixed on hers. When she didn’t move away, he lifted a hand, his fingers brushing her cheek. Her skin was soft, dewy, and enticingly supple.
