His Contract Bride (Banks Brothers Brides 1)(23)

       

She laughed. "No. I don't place bets when I know who controls the outcome."

"Wits and beauty, a perfect combination." He set the fishermen down and  sifted through a few vulgar ones of cock fights and a man being hanged  until he found what he was looking for. "This one doesn't have strings  to pull, but dials to turn." He took her hand again and led her to a  little bench in the corner. After she'd made herself comfortable, he sat  next to her and positioned the automaton so half was on each of their  laps.

"What are they doing?"

"They're about to fence." He ran his fingers along the right side of the  box. "Slide your hand along the wooden frame until you feel the ridges,  then stop."

"All right," she said, her brow puckering.

"Very good. Now, when I tell you to, move your finger along those  grooves and be sure to press hard or it won't work." He found his dial.  "Are you ready?"

"I think so."

"Go!"

At the same time, both of them spun their dials, and the men on the  front of the plank moved their swords, either forward or back.

"What fun," she exclaimed, spinning her dial with more vigor than he'd imagined she'd have.

"Be careful," Edward said with an overdone frown. "You're about to beat me."

That made her laugh all the harder.

He threw both of his hands into the air. "You win! You win! Have mercy on me."

Regina stopped. "Aha, the victor."

Edward had the strangest urge to kiss her at that moment. The thought  sobered him. She'd never allow him such a liberty outside of the  bedchamber. "Congratulations, Regina," he said. "You have managed to  unman your husband. Your friends shall be proud indeed." Particularly  Lady Sinclair.

"I didn't unman you," she corrected. "I bested you."

"Oh, thank you for the clarification."

"You're welcome."

He shook his head at her sarcastic tone and set the automaton down  beside himself. Who'd have ever known that the quiet woman who spoke  only when spoken to had this fire inside her?

"Oh, look," she said, reaching across him in a way that pushed her soft  breast into his lap, dangerously close to something that wouldn't be  soft much longer if she didn't sit back up. "Here's another game."

"Let me see." He coughed. "Pardon me." Ignoring the heat crawling up his  face, he fiddled with the automaton she'd picked up while she  straightened into proper sitting position.

"What are these fellows playing?"

"Tennis," he murmured.

"Tennis?"

"Have you never heard of it?"

"No."

"Don't worry, not too many care about it these days," he said while he  absentmindedly played with the dials. "It used to be a very popular  game-the game of kings, in fact. But its popularity has been in rapid  decline in recent years."

"That must be why I haven't heard of it," she said airily.

What the devil? The dials turned without problem, but there was no movement. "I think this one might be broken."

"Oh."

Was he imagining things or was she truly disappointed? He set the  automaton down. "What do you say if I take you to see a real tennis  match on Thursday?"

"But didn't you mention at breakfast that you needed to get back to Watson Estate and check on your flowers."

"Hang the flowers," he burst out, as stunned as she was at his words. He  exhaled. "Do you wish to go with me to see a tennis match in real life  or will I be going alone?"

"I'd love to accompany you."

Thank heavens, because he might do himself in if he were made to go to one of those dratted things alone. "Excellent, then."





~Chapter Sixteen~





The tennis match was an awful, dreadful, horrid, affair. Never in her  life had Regina been so miserable. Not that Edward seemed any more  enthralled with the game.

"We can leave," she whispered, hoping he'd stop playing the role of a gentleman and agree.

"No, no," he argued. Though his voice said no, those eyes of his had  sparked with something-likely excitement-at her suggestion. "It won't  last much longer, I promise."

It had better not. Somewhere out there was a man with only minutes left  to his life. He'd probably love to trade places with Regina so those  remaining moments could seem like an eternity.

"Naughty thought?"

Regina snapped her head around to face her chuckling husband. "Absolutely not."

His laughter only continued. "I've been watching you, Regina. I know  when that little smile takes your lips that you're up to mischief."                       
       
           



       

Regina's hand instinctively flew to her lips. She sighed. "Unlike you, I  don't put voice to all of my naughty thoughts." Not that she'd ever  admit that she enjoyed his naughty slips.

He lifted his brows. "Oh, so it was naughty?"

"Not in the way you're thinking, no," she stammered. Gracious. What was it about him that made her act like a ninny at times?

"That's too bad," he said with a frown. "I'd rather enjoy hearing your naughty thoughts."

"I shan't give you the honor," she teased, inclining her chin.

He gave an exaggerated half-sigh, half-groan. "Then I suppose I shall have to torture you until you do."

"My, my, have you sunk so low?"

"A man sometimes has to resort to levels of desperation he never thought possible in order to get what he wants," he said.

She stared at him. There was no denying his sentence was spoken with the  intention of being cryptic. But what his code meant, she may never  know. She turned her attention back to where two gentlemen were lobbing a  ball to each other across a courtyard using wooden rackets. She wasn't  what most would consider a scientist, by any means, but even she  understood cause and effect; if this was considered an excellent match,  she had a very good idea why the sport had a declining interest.

Mercifully, the match ended before Regina died of tedium.

"Our turn," Edward announced, grinning like a simpleton.

"Pardon me?"

He gestured to the courtyard. "I reserved the court so we could play."

"Why would you do such a thing?"

He laughed at her question. "You seemed disappointed when we couldn't  'play' the other day, so I thought you might like to play a real game."

Was he addled? "I think I'd rather be a spectator."

"Nonsense." He stood and walked to where two wooden rackets were leaning  against a splintered chair. "Come along, Lady Watson. You longed to  play, and now you shall."

Regina thought to protest since she was wearing a gown, but dismissed  the thought immediately. Never before had she let a dress hinder her  from participating in a game if she truly wanted to play. Not when she'd  chased that urchin Jimmy Somers off her aunt's land for pulling her  hair, nor when she ran from Toby and Prichard to avoid getting a mud pie  thrown at her. She walked to the court and took one of the rackets. "If  I injure you with a ball, it is not my fault."

"Are you intending to lob one at my head?" he asked, frowning.

"No." She winked. "Not intentionally."

"Minx." He picked up the ball and squeezed it. "I hate to dash your  dreams of beating me into submission by hitting me with this ball, but  it's made of felt wrapped around wool."

She rolled her eyes. Only her husband would suggest something so ridiculous. "Do you plan to serve sometime today?"

"Momentarily, yes." He tossed the ball into the air and swung.

The ball flew toward Regina. Too scared to wince, flinch, jump, recoil  or move, she stared in awe as the ball flew closer to her and landed  just inches from her toe.

"You should swing next time," he commented.

She scowled at him then scooped up the ball. She tossed it into the air  and swung, missing it entirely. She tried again. Then again. On the  fifth time, she smacked it with all the force she had, sending it flying  in the air directly at Edward.

"Ooof," he said as the ball hit him in the chest.

"Perhaps you should swing next time," Regina informed him smartly. What  was it about him that made her feel brave enough to say such things?  She'd never let her remarks slip so freely to anyone before. Ever.  Fortunately, he didn't seem to mind too terribly much.

Edward shook his head. "I'll keep that in mind." He returned the ball  and, much to her surprise, when she swung at it, she hit it. "Good," he  encouraged, hitting it to her again.

The ball came in her direction, but not quite to her. She took two unladylike steps forward then swung.

Edward sidestepped just in time to miss the ball hitting him in a less favorable place than last time.

"Don't forget to swing," she said in a sing-song voice.