His Contract Bride (Banks Brothers Brides 1)(24)

Edward lobbed the ball at her again.

She swung and sent it soaring at him again.

This time, he returned her ball.

With a feminine squeal, Regina shuffled to the left just in time to hit the ball.

"Good swing," he encouraged, returning her ball.

Without so much as a cursory acknowledgement of his words, Regina rushed  up to hit the ball again, this time sending it across the court in the  opposite direction of him.

He ran to hit it and missed. "Point."

"Why do you get a point? I hit it last."                       
       
           



       

He picked up the ball and tossed it to her. "I know. It was your point."

"It was?" She beamed. "Now, do I have to say the score as I toss the ball into the air?"

"Yes. Say, fifteen, love."

Regina tripped over a clot of dirt on the ground. What is wrong with  you, Regina? He wasn't calling you love. That's how they keep score in  tennis!

He squinted. "Is something amiss?"

"No," she assured him, inwardly cursing herself for the hitch in her  voice. Striving to remain calm, she heaved the ball into the air and  smacked it across the court.

Edward returned it, barely.

She grinned. This was not his game. But then again, he was an academic. "How often do you play?"

He scowled. "I haven't played since they tortured me this way at Eton, claiming it was to help us be 'well-rounded gentlemen'."

"Actually-" she returned his ball- "one would think playing this would keep one from becoming rounded."

The ball sailed past him and landed outside the marked court. "Perhaps I should take you to see some of your own kind."

"My own kind?"

"Jesters."





~Chapter Seventeen~





Regina trounced Edward at tennis, just like he'd hoped she would. Best  yet, he hadn't even had to purposely lose, which was good. It would do  her good to know she was better than he was at something.

Sure, she could flawlessly do many things young ladies were expected to  do, but she had no pride about it. Besting him in tennis-a real game,  not one which depended on twisting a knob-would hopefully give her the  pride in herself that she deserved.

"Well done, Regina," he congratulated, handing her the white handkerchief from his breast pocket.

She dabbed the sweat off her flushed face. "Thank you. You played admirably, too."

He scoffed. "Did I ever tell you that falsehoods make me unwell?" The  words were out before he could stop them. He held his breath, waiting  for the tongue lashing he deserved.

"You poor man," she said, cocking her head to the side and bringing her  hand to almost rest on his shoulder before withdrawing it. "You must  have been nearing death by the time I found that contract."

He exhaled, shame washing over him. "I never meant-"

"For me to find out."

"That's not what I was going to say."

"Are you sure?"

"Quite."

Her eyes narrowed on him. "Are you feeling ill now?" She gestured to a nearby chair. "Perhaps you ought to sit."

"Why would I feel ill now?"

"Because you just told another falsehood."

"What the devil?" he muttered.

"Surely, you were not about to attempt to convince me that you didn't  mean to lie to me in the first place. That would be the only logical  choice available to you now since you're adamant that it wasn't my  finding out that was what you were trying to avoid."

Damned if she didn't have a way of turning things around on him. "I  suppose, I'm feeling unwell, after all." He blew out a deep breath then  gestured to the empty chairs. "It was both," he said after they'd both  taken their seats. "Only an imbecile wouldn't mind if his wife were to  find such a damning document."

"Unless he thought she was the imbecile."

The way she whispered her retort ate at him. "No. I never doubted your intelligence."

"Then why did you lie to me? Why did you let me make a fool of myself  and-and-and-" She turned her face away. "Edward, my father tricked me.  He told me you'd requested my hand, and just like he'd wanted me to, I  believed him." She dropped her gaze to where she was making lazy  patterns with the tip of her toe in the dirt. "You could have told me  the truth. As soon as you knew I had been misled, you could have told me  the truth."

Edward ached to wrap his arms around her. Everything he'd done to try to  protect her had only caused her more pain. "I was afraid of hurting  you."

"But you hurt me more by keeping the truth from me."

"I know that now," he whispered. "I didn't know it then."

"Yes, well, it doesn't matter now."

"Yes, it does," he countered, throwing his good sense to the wind and  using his fingertips to turn her face toward him. He was rewarded with  her easy compliance. "What can I do to make it right?"

"It's not as easy as a simple sentence or a bauble bought to excuse one's misstep, Edward."

Her words might have been indirect, but her meaning was not. She was all  but telling him he'd given a good effort so far, but she wouldn't be so  easily swayed.                       
       
           



       

"Not to worry," she said with a watery smile. "Feelings mend and pride eventually heals."

Feelings might mend and pride might heal, but trust was another matter.  For the first time since she'd found that blasted betrothal agreement,  Edward knew what he'd lost that day, her trust. Unfortunately, he had no  idea how to regain it.

An idea came to mind. It wasn't one that would get his name printed into  scholarly circulars, but it might be enough to convince his wife to  start trusting him again. "Shall we make a truce?"

"Why would we? I thought we'd already agreed never to speak of this again."

He kicked a rock in front of him, sending it flying toward the tennis  courts. "We have. And-" he did his best attempt at the icy stare his  father had given him when lecturing him about the importance of being a  baron- "I intend to hold you to our vow by means of this truce." He  could no longer hold his composure and grinned despite himself.

"And what does this truce entail?"

"No lying to the other."

She looked at him as if he were a nodcock. "Is there something else I need to know about?"

"No."

"Then why would you suggest such a thing?"

"So you'll have to quit telling me that you enjoy sewing, watercolors and embroidery every time I ask."

She laughed in a deep, throaty laugh that sent a jolt of desire directly  to his groin. "And what shall happen to me if I say I enjoy sewing?"

"Let's see." He cocked his head in mock contemplation and rubbed his  chin. "Then I will know you're lying and you shall have to eat gruel."

Her face contorted as if she'd just tasted a bite. "And the same rules apply to you?"

He nodded. "Yes."

She sat quiet for a minute, her fingers twisting her wedding ring. "If we each get one per year, then you have a deal."

Edward took a lock of her auburn hair and tucked it behind her ear. "I  don't need that one falsehood per year. I don't intend to lie to you  again."

"Good," she said. "It wasn't really for your benefit anyway. I might need it."

***

Regina sank into the steaming tub. From her shoulders to her toes, her  muscles ached from playing tennis. But oh how fun it'd been to see his  face each time she'd scored a point! His reaction was the only thing  that kept her interest. There was far too much running and swinging for  her taste. Not to mention her heavy gown getting in the way and making  her hot.

As was their arrangement, Georgie helped her in and out of the tub but  went behind the screen as Regina bathed. What might be the way of things  for some was still uncomfortable. Physical touching was hard enough,  but the idea of Georgie helping her bathe was unthinkable.

After she finished bathing, Georgie helped her into that atrocious  nightgown. Ever since the day she'd happened upon their betrothal  agreement, Edward's visits had become irregular. At first, he came every  night, then not at all. She had no idea what nights he planned to join  her, and rather than humiliating herself by asking him if he planned to  visit her room, she and Georgie had decided it was best to be prepared  every night.

"Good night, my lady," Georgie whispered, slipping out the door.

Regina lay still, waiting to hear any movement from the other side of  the door. But it was useless, she couldn't hear anything. She turned  over onto her side then quickly blinked to block out the moon's  brightness. Georgie must not have shut the curtains all the way. She  rolled back over and stood.