Susanna stepped foward, tossing the metal boule ball in her hand. “I say girls against boys.”
“Susanna,” Corina protested with a wave of her hands, “I’m horrible at this game. I couldn’t hit that little red jack-thing if I was standing over it with a hammer.”
“I’ll take my chances.” Susanna’s expression made Stephen laugh. She was so utterly American.I’ll take those odds and win anyway.
“Susanna, really, I’m horrible.”
“Sounds fair to me.” Nathaniel kicked four balls toward Stephen. “Winners earn bragging rights. Without one word of complaint from the losers.”
“You’re on, Mr. Big Stuff.” Susanna shook on the deal, giving Nathaniel’s hand a hard squeeze. “Georgia Girls verses Brighton Boys.”
“Wasn’t there a song about that?” Stephen said, snapping his fingers, humming, laughing.
“Not yet,” Susanna tossed him a wink. “Now, move aside men. Corina and I are going to practice. Corina, sugar, all you have to do is roll the ball to the red jack there in the middle. Feel free to knock the guys’ balls to kingdom come.”
“Susanna, really.” Corina ran her palms down the side of her shorts, nervous. “I’m horrible.”
“Corina, you’re not supposed to smack talk yourself. Come on.”
Stephen strained forward with each of Corina’s boule rolls, willing the ball toward the jack. But she was right. She wasn’t very good.
“All right,” Susanna said, popping her hands together, her voice every bit like Coach Stuart’s. “You’ll get it. Let’s practice again.”
“Enough practice. Let’s play.” Nathaniel moved to the top of the playing lane.
Stephen watched his prim and proper brother, the disciplined King Nathaniel, grinning. The man was every bit as competitive as his wife. And twice as competitive as his brother. No way did he want to lose this little lawn tourney. He bowed toward his wife. “Ladies first.”
“We’ll take it.”
Stephen captured Corina’s hand as he walked past and whispered, “You can do this.”
“If you say so.” Her response was soft against his soul, her warm gaze peaceful. “But I’m not proud. I’m willing to let Susanna carry me.”
He laughed, releasing her hand, and joined his brother. Another time, in a life undisturbed by war, this game would be Brighton princes against their princesses.
She was his wife but not his princess. An honor he’d robbed from her.
“It’s ladies against the gents, I see.” Mum walked out from under the lawn tent and joined the women. At fifty-eight, she was graceful and elegant in her linen slacks, cashmere sweater, and pearls. The Queen of Brighton, having lived with Dad for over thirty years, first as he was the crown prince, then king. After his death, Stephen wasn’t sure she’d ever laugh again. But she’d found a new joy in Henry’s love.
“We’ll play one round for bragging rights. The rest for fun,” Nathaniel said. “Mum and Henry will be discrepancy judges. Henry, remember I’m your king and this close to approving your new young businessmen project.”
“Oh my word . . . blackmail?” Susanna huffed, roping an arm of solidarity around Corina. “Never mind. We’ll win anyway.”
“Susanna, please.” Corina verged on begging. “You overestimate me.”
But the game was under way and Corina was to bowl first. Stephen crouched along the side of the court. “Get as close as you can to the jack. Give it a little hook when you—”
She paused with a sigh, glancing over at him. “Will you shut up? You’re making me nervous.”
Nathaniel muffled his laugh, pressing his fist to his lip.
Stephen rocked back on his haunches. “Fine, then, show us what you got, Del Rey.”
Her roll barely made it halfway, but Susanna more than made up for it, bowling within centimeters of the jack. She would be tough to beat.
Corina cheered and slapped her partner a high five.
But Nathaniel’s roll knocked Susanna out of play. “Oh, Stratton, you are going to pay for that one.”
