No, she did not think that; she thought it quite likely that the next dart would fly well wide of its mark. But as she watched him continue to chuckle with overt amusement at the very notion that she could shoot a second dart as well as the last one, a sense of competitive determination overcame her, however foolish such an impulse might be.
“Yes,” she stated. “I do.”
“I’ll lay a quid on that,” said a voice from behind her.
“Yer on. And make it two.”
“I’ll double the two,” said a third voice, which Emma recognized as belonging to the tavern keeper. “I say she misses,” he finished.
Swinging around, she was astonished to see the trio of men laying money onto a table.
“Are they wagering? On me?” she asked Nick in a low voice.
He gave her a look that displayed both humor and exasperation. “So it would appear. But not to worry. I shall put a stop to it.” He took a step away.
She delayed him with a hand. “Put a stop—but you just challenged me.”
“Not exactly. I merely said that you couldn’t make another shot like the last. No one really expects you to follow through, you know.”
“Speak for yerself, mister. We’ve got blunt laid down on that gal,” one of the two old men said in hoarse complaint.
“Ignore them,” Nick said for her ears alone. “I shall pay for our meal and we’ll leave.”
“But I do not want to leave. Not before I’ve shot that dart.”
“Emma,” he said warningly. “You’ll only embarrass yourself if you persist in this.”
“I shall do no such thing. In fact, I think we should make a wager of our own.”
One of old men let out a long, low whistle, having obviously heard her statement.
Nick took hold of her arm and marched her a few steps away so they could speak privately this time. “I am not gambling with you.”
“Why ever not? Afraid I’ll win?”
His scowl returned. “No. I have no doubt as to the outcome.”
“Well, then, why the hesitation?”
“You have no money, for one.”
“True, but wagers can be made for things other than money.”
A peculiar gleam came into his eyes. “And what did you have in mind?”
He had her at that, she realized. She’d issued her dare on a whim, his embarrass yourself remark more than she could bear. A princess had her pride, after all.
But what to wager?
She thought for a long minute, but nothing came readily to mind.
“Anytime before dark should be fine,” he drawled over her lengthy silence.
She waved an exasperated hand. “I cannot think of the precise thing at the moment. So let us just say it will be winner’s choice, the actual prize to be determined at a later time.”
He stared. “Winner’s choice? You realize that leaves you open to almost anything I might select.”
“That I shall select, you mean, since I shall be the one who wins.”
He studied her, clearly considering all the ramifications. “You are certain?”
For a second, she hesitated, wondering if she was making a huge mistake. How could she possibly achieve another perfect shot? But the Whytes of Rosewald had spent centuries refusing to back down from all challengers and she wasn’t about to break precedent now.
“Yes, my lord. I am certain.”
Slowly, a smile spread over his face, his mouth tilting upward at a devilish angle. “Very well, I accept your wager. And may I say, my dear young woman, that you are far too trusting for your own good.”
“Then it is providential that you were the person I met in the market yesterday, my lord, rather than someone of an unscrupulous nature.”
A warmth crept into the steely gray of his eyes, tiny lines fanning out in the corners. “Quite providential, indeed. Now, allow me to clear the board so you may take your shot.”
Emma waited while Nick went to gather her a fresh supply of darts. As she did, she became aware of the activity behind her as a new group of patrons entered the public house. The noise level rose as the five new men found out what was going on and demanded to be let in on the wagering. From the corner of her eye, she saw one of the old men pull a small leather book and pencil from his pocket and begin making notions. From what she gathered as their voices came her way, the bets were almost universally against her.
Then Nick was at her side once again, darts in hand. Silently, he offered one to her. She gulped, her stomach suddenly tight with nerves. “Maybe you should throw a couple first,” she suggested. “We never did have an actual game.”
“All right. Assuming you are still sure about this,” he said quietly. “I won’t hold you to your promise, if you want to back out. Although considering the crowd you’ve attracted, we might have to make a run for it if you do change your mind.”