Another challenge thrown down by Ash—but, of course, he didn’t know that Brinsley and his brother grew up playing cricket, and with his size and strength, he made a damn good bowler.
Lord Rathbourne looked at Brinsley, his eyebrows raised. “I’m aware of your strength in fights, but you’ll need to show us your speed.”
Lord Rathbourne believed his size slowed him down. Well, wouldn’t his superior be surprised?
Ash leered at Brinsley. “I admire Edward for his choice of teammates, another brilliant Harcourt in the making. Brinsley is an unknown factor, but Edward has decided his size will be in his favor. The teammate I’d want is Miss Amelia. Never seen a better wicket keeper. If she weren’t a woman…”
Brinsley moved uncomfortably in his seat. He wasn’t sure what upset him more—the idea that Ash wanted Amelia on his team or the way Ash said she was a woman. Brinsley was damn glad she was a woman. Happier than he should be by far.
Ash now looked at him as if he could read every one of his lustful thoughts.
“I suppose we’ll have to see how the game goes.” Brinsley wasn’t a man prone to bragging. He was a man of action, and he was confident that he could beat Lord Rathbourne and Ash. He wasn’t sure if they were egging him on to prove his worth or if it was the basic male need to compete.
Lord Rathbourne waved his hand in dismissal. “You both go ahead. I’ve more work to finish before I can join you.”
Brinsley and Ash stood together.
“I’ve told Gwyneth that I’d wait for her once she was finished with Amelia,” Ash said.
Brinsley hated the way his heart accelerated at the sound of her name, more so knowing that she was already in the house.
“I’ll go out and help young Edward with the setup.”
Ash walked out with him. “You’re a good man to have around, Brinsley.” With that, Ash turned and headed down the hall to the morning room where the ladies were working. Brinsley wished he could go in search of Amelia, but it was a lot safer to help Edward.
Chapter Seven
Brinsley took a deep breath, savoring the crisp January afternoon air. Anticipating the sight of Miss Amelia Bonnington playing cricket in breeches, his heart thumped against his chest and his body thrummed with nervous energy.
He rounded the corner to find Amelia squatting in front of the wicket. She had her back to him so he was able to enjoy the enticing view. She hadn’t worn breeches, but he wasn’t disappointed. The muslin, pulled tightly against her rounded derriere, revealed enough to send a blast of heat through his body as if he were a billowing furnace.
He couldn’t stop staring. Unaware of his presence, she shifted her weight. He moaned aloud from the lust licking along his spine. He had never before experienced any woman who could fire him up in an instant. And he was definitely up.
Gus, who had been quietly chewing on a stick, was the first to spot him or hear his moan. Had he really moaned aloud? The dog dropped his stick and raced toward him.
Edward, oblivious to his dog, but just as eager, ran over too. “This is capital. We can practice before the others arrive.”
Amelia quickly turned and stood with Edward’s greeting. Her skirt was divided like a riding garment, but the thin fabric made it looked like she wore undergarments. The sunlight was behind her revealing the outline of her long, shapely legs through the translucent, white fabric. His heart beat erratically and his breaths came in short bursts. This innocent woman would be the death of him.
“Lord Brinsley.” Her voice was as formal as if they were meeting in the drawing room, as if she was totally unaware that her choice of dress did nothing to hide her lithe body and lovely legs.
He forced himself to divert his gaze and look up at her face. “Miss Amelia.” He bowed carefully.
“Oh, my goodness.” Her eyes were wide with shock.
God, had she noticed his uncontrollable physical reaction to her state of dishabille.
“Your face.” Had his out of control fantasies shown on his face?
“It must hurt.” Her soft voice was filled with concern.
What the hell?
As she got close enough for him to see the blue speckles in her violet eyes, her brows knotted together. “You were in a fight?”
Her disapproval suddenly turned sunny into cold and lonely. He wasn’t able to disclose his mission. And why should he care what she thought of him. She had already pronounced that he wasn’t worthy husband material.
“I was in a tavern brawl.”
He had expected her to respond with disgust, but instead her face and lips softened in understanding, as if she knew him better than he did himself. “I’m sorry.”
Edward hurried over after abandoning his task with the wickets and had a very different reaction to news of the fight. “Wow, I’d like to see what you did to the other fellow. You flattened him, didn’t you?”
“That’s enough, Edward.” Amelia treated Edward as if he were her younger brother. She appeared very comfortable in her role as older sister.
“Is this the new fashion for women cricketers?” He couldn’t stop himself from staring at her legs. “You look ready to play cricket.” What a pile of… She looked ready for a long hard tumble.
She smiled sunnily, which only made matters worse. Her eyes sparkled with amusement, tantalizing him, robbing him of conscious thought. “This is a gown I’ve designed to help my movement in the game. With long skirts gowns and petticoats, how could I be expected to play my position as wicket keeper?”
The idea of “her position” fired his carnal thoughts. The only position he could think of was her under him. He would’ve laughed if every muscle in his body weren’t tightened and primed. He adjusted his jacket, trying to conceal his reaction. He couldn’t stop staring at her outfit. He had never seen a respectable lady in such a get-up. He had seen many women in various stages of undress, but Amelia in this costume caught his blood on fire.
“Sir, with you on our team we can’t lose.” Edward looked up at him in awe.
At least he could still impress children. “Well, I’d hope so since I have it on the best authority that Miss Amelia is the finest wicket keeper in all of England.”
Amelia’s soft lips curved into a self-deprecating smirk. “Edward has a very generous opinion of my skills.”
“Ash also spoke highly of your skills. He believes if you weren’t a woman, you’d be one of the best.”
She laughed and dismissed Ash’s compliment with a wave of her graceful hand. “Fiddlesticks. I’m a wicket keeper. Is shouldn’t matter that I’m a woman.”
Her laughter shot straight through him, ratcheting his readiness. It mattered to him greatly that she was a woman.
Edward grabbed the ball. “Amelia, can we get back to practice? Lord Brinsley can help me with my bowling.”
She continued to smile. “If that is amenable to Lord Brinsley.”
She was different today, not fighting him as if he were the enemy and not rejecting the obvious attraction between them. “If we are to be teammates then I think you both should call me Derrick. My close friends all call me Derrick.”
He watched her color change instantaneously from porcelain white to rosy pink. When he had been desperate for her, he asked her to call him Derrick. Her breathlessness when she uttered his name was imprinted in his brain. If he had to suffer endless torment, then she might as well suffer a little too. Not exactly the behavior of a gentleman, but she didn’t think of him as a gentleman anyway.
Edward, his blond curls ruffled by the wind, handed Brinsley the ball. The young boy’s enthusiasm was hard to ignore. “Before everyone arrives, can we get to my bowling?” Edward kicked at the grass, not looking at him. Gus waited next to the boy on full alert. “I’d rather not practice in front of everyone else.”
“I’d be happy to help you.” A cricket bowl thrown over-the-shoulder, with a complete straight arm, required strength and agility. Brinsley could understand why Edward, at such a young age,
might be self-conscious. But with hard work, Edward would make a fine bowler someday. By the fierce, burning light in Edward’s face, the boy wouldn’t want to hear that he had to wait until he was older. “I find the trickiest part of the bowl is keeping the arm straight in the release.”
Edward looked at him as if his words were the Holy Grail. “Will you watch me bowl to Amelia?”
Amelia smiled at Edward and went to pick up the bat. She planted her legs in a wide stance and got into position with the bat held at the ready. Her splayed and bent posture was perfect for flexibility, but it wasn’t the flexibility of a striker that Brinsley envisioned. She looked up and smiled widely at Edward. “I’m ready.”
With a face locked in concentration, Edward stood behind the bowling crease. He wound up, lunged forward, and threw the ball. His timing was jerky as he franticly struggled to cover the distance between the bowling crease and the popping crease. And, of course, his ultimate goal was to throw the ball really fast.
Amelia swung the bat athletically and gracefully. He’d never be able to play cricket again without envisioning Amelia, her skirt swishing around her legs, totally absorbed in trying to hit the ball. Edward’s bowl went wide making it impossible for her to connect.
Amelia scurried to pick up the ball and walk it back to Edward. “You got nervous in front of Lord Brinsley. Shall we give it another go?”
Crestfallen at his poor performance, Edward shook his head. “I’m horrible as a bowler.”
“I don’t agree,” said Brinsley. “I think there are things we can work on.” Amelia, who had been focused on Edward, looked up at him and beamed. Her radiant face jolted his heart into a frantic race. He cleared his throat, trying to look away.
“I think you need to slow down your pitch. Let’s work on accuracy today and not speed. Miss Amelia, can you take your position again?”
She nodded and resumed her spot. The sunlight reflected the shades of red—glimpses of molten fire in her hair. He tracked every one of her movements as if mesmerized.
She turned back and spoke over her shoulder. “Edward, remember to release your breath as you release the ball. It really helps.”
“What excellent advice.” His voice must have sounded incredulous.
She laughed as she bent to retrieve the bat. “You needn’t act so shocked.”
He smiled at her, caught in her magic. He felt like a young boy himself. He hadn’t felt this young and alive since before the whole disaster with his brother.
Edward stood tense, fingering the ball in his hand.
“Let me watch you slowly go through your entire bowl.”
Edward nodded. “I’ll try.”
Edward lunged too far forward for his size, probably mimicking the throw of a larger man.
“Let’s have you take a smaller step before you throw the ball. Can you try it?”
“Alright.” Edward took a smaller step, but his timing was still off, with is attempt to throw the ball hard and fast, his release was too late. The ball bounced on the ground and rolled.
“Give me another one, Edward. Keeping trying,” Amelia chimed.
Edward was a fine athlete with a great focus and in no time would progress rapidly, but still a young boy. He was too self-conscious for this kind of close scrutiny.
“Keep bowling to Miss Amelia. I’ll play the wicket keeper.”
Amelia, sensing Edward’s nervousness, spoke to him in a chipper voice. “Come on, Edward, let’s show Lord Brinsley how we plan to beat those lazybones who aren’t out here yet.”
Edward smiled, his first since he had started his demonstration.
Brinsley moved behind Amelia and took position as wicket keeper.
Amelia whispered, “Thank you for taking the time to practice with him.” She looked into his eyes with appreciation. Her admiring look coiled his guts in painful pleasure.
He couldn’t stop looking at her bright eyes and flushed cheeks. He hadn’t been close to goodness in a very long time. A warmness enveloped his heart, making him feel young and hopeful. “I’m more impressed that a lady with so many responsibilities for the wedding is taking time to play with a young boy.”
“With four brothers, I understand boys. And Henrietta isn’t feeling well enough to give Edward the attention he needs.”
“Are you ready to play?” Edward asked impatiently.
Brinsley squatted into his wicket keeper position behind Amelia.
“Yes, of course.” Amelia got into her batting stance, her sweet derriere pointed right at his face.
He tried to focus on Edward, but he couldn’t stop looking at the view. “My God.” He swore under his breath and moaned.
Amelia turned toward him. “Pardon me?”
Amelia never saw the ball coming at her. Edward had finally coordinated his bowl, making his pitch more accurate and much faster. Of all the times for him to finally get it right. The heavy ball hit Amelia squarely on the side of her head. She gasped and fell sprawling to the ground.
Brinsley dropped to his knees beside her. Blood trickled from the wound on the side of her head. How could he have allowed injury to come to this lovable woman? Agony crushed the air from his lungs.
Edward ran toward them. “Amelia. I didn’t mean to hit you.”
Gus, who had been under a tree chewing on a stick, jumped up and ran to Amelia. He lay next to her, licking her hand.
“Edward, go into the house and tell Lady Gwyneth that Amelia is hurt.” Panic laced Brinsley’s voice.
“But, but…I didn’t mean to hurt her. She never gets hit. She is so fast.”
“It wasn’t your fault. I distracted her.”
Relief washed across Edward’s face. “You were talking to her in the middle of the bowl?”
Brinsley nodded. He gently pushed her hair away to assess the damage. The cut wasn’t deep, but head wounds always bleed profusely. Her pale skin made the crimson blood look more ominous. He took out his handkerchief and pressed it to the laceration.
“Edward, go. Alert Lady Gwyneth. We’ll need a doctor.” His voice echoed in his ears.
He lifted Amelia into his arms, holding her soft body tight against his chest. It was all his fault. If he hadn’t been distracting her, she would’ve seen the ball coming.
His emotions were a lethal mix of regret and tenderness.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he carried her to the house.
He stared down at her white face. Her thick lashes shadowed her cheeks. Her loosened hair, the color of fire, hung over his arms.
The motion of his brisk pace jarred Amelia. She stirred in his arms then opened her eyes and stared at him.
“Amelia?”
She touched her cold hand to his face. “Why did you fight?”
Her touch was gentle and tentative, but the slight caress went deep into his body and into his empty soul. “What?”
She had been knocked out, her head was bleeding, and she wanted to know about his fight. “Amelia, do you remember that you got hit in the head with the cricket ball?”
“Edward must be getting better. I didn’t see it coming.”
Remorse and guilt weighed heavily upon him. “I distracted you.”
She searched his face. “Why would you do that?”
“I’m so sorry. I’ll never forgive myself. Do you have a headache?”
“A little bit. Not the worst cricket injury I’ve had.”
He climbed the steps from the garden to the terrace as Lady Gwyneth rushed out of the French doors. “Amelia. Are you hurt?”
Amelia turned her head. “I’m fine, Gwyneth.”
Lady Gwyneth took Amelia’s hand into her own. “Thank God, you’re awake. Edward said you were unconscious.”
“She was knocked out for a moment, and she’s got a nasty cut on her head. Did you send for the doctor?”
“You’re so pale,” Lady Gwyneth said.
“I’m always pale.” Amelia chuckled. “A red-head’s blight.”
“How can yo
u joke at a time like this?” Lady Gwyneth asked. “Your hands are like ice.”
“I’ll be fine once someone attends to my cut. And I’m sure I can walk.” She looked up at Brinsley. “You can put me down now.”
“You’re not walking up all those stairs.” Lady Gwyneth pulled her hand back and said in an imperious voice, “Follow me.” She led them down the hallway to the stairwell. “We’ll take her to my bedroom.”
The butler rushed up to them. “Miss Amelia, I’m glad to see you awake. Mrs. Brompton is assembling supplies to take care of your wound.”
“Thank you, Brompton. I’m sorry to be a problem for you and the Mrs.”
“You’re never a problem, Miss Amelia.” The butler bowed.
“Brompton, where is Edward?” Lady Gwyneth asked.
“Lady Rathbourne is with him. He is quite shaken by the accident.”
Amelia reached out and put her hand on Gwyneth’s arm. “I need to tell him it wasn’t his fault. I wasn’t looking.”
“You weren’t looking? That doesn’t sound like you.” Lady Gwyneth raised her eyebrows and looked directly at Brinsley.
“It was entirely my fault. I spoke to Miss Amelia during the bowl,” he said.
Lady Gwyneth’s eyes narrowed in speculation. “Mmm…”
He felt burning on the top of his ears. He hadn’t blushed since he was a child.
Lady Gwyneth patted Amelia’s arm. “You can tell Edward after we’ve cleaned your wound. Right now, you’d scare the poor child. You’re a mess.”
Amelia and Lady Gwyneth giggled.
Brinsley couldn’t share their mirth. He hated feeling helpless and guilty.
“Thank you, Brompton,” Lady Gwyneth said. “Right this way, Lord Brinsley.”
Chapter Eight
As Amelia leaned back against the pillow, her head ached and the bandage felt too tight. Surprisingly she was in a cheerful mood, remembering Lord Brinsley’s gentle touch and the warmth and security she felt while pressed against his chest.
There was a light tap on the door, followed by Gwyneth entering. “How are you feeling?”
A Code of the Heart (The Code Breakers Series Book 3) Page 6
