Chapter Nine
Irritation roiled inBroderick’s stomach. He hated to be bested. He especially didn’t enjoy being outdone by this slip of a woman. Determination settled in his bones. There was no way he was going to lose a horse race to a woman. Even in her outdated riding habit—that actually fit her better than the other dresses had—she was all woman, soft and desirable. Excitement flushed her face, causing her eyes to gleam. Lips, soft and red, turned up in a smile.
When she laughed, her whole face lit up with enthusiasm. Of course, now she wore a panicked expression. Probably because she sensed his frustration.
It took him a few moments, but he finally gained control over his emotions. He sighed deeply and smiled, which made her pretty face light up again.
“Emiline? Would you please call me Broderick?”
The laughter disappeared quickly from her face as she lost her smile. Her forehead creased. “Why?”
He shrugged. “Because all of my friends call me by that name.”
“And you consider me amongst your friends?”
His grin widened. “Yes. Don’t you?”
The corners of her mouth lifted as if she fought showing him any reaction. “Well, I… Um, all right, Broderick,” she ended, giving him her full smile once more.
“Much better, thank you. And now, since we are friends, it’s only decent of you to let me have another chance at winning. So, if you will play honestly during our next race, I would like to prove to you that I’m as admirable as you are.”
“When was I not playing honestly? I will have you know I am quite ethical when sporting.”
“But you got a head start.”
When she laughed, her eyes danced with merriment. “No. I think you held yourself back because I’m a woman.”
“And what if I did?”
“I don’t want you to hold back this time. I want you to push yourself to the limit.”
Suddenly, an idea took root, and he held back the mischievous spark of energy within. “Would you care to make a wager on our little race, then?”
One of her perfectly shaped eyebrows rose. “What did you have in mind?”
He couldn’t believe what he had in mind, but he would definitely not tell her about his improper thoughts. “If I win, I will require you to dress like a genteel woman for an entire week.”
She gasped. “Are you jesting?”
“No. I’m quite earnest.”
“You don’t think I dress like a woman now?”
“Well, let me rephrase that. I want you to dress a little more… what’s the word…appealing.”
She released an unladylike snort. “Appealing? My gowns aren’t appealing?”
“Let me clarify a little better. I want you to wear gowns that fit you, and I want to see your hair styled like a young woman your age. I don’t want you to dress like an old woman.”
“All right, I understand now. So, what if I win? Are you going to wear a bath towel all week for me?”
He howled with laughter. This tiny woman certainly knew how to keep him on his toes. She had a quick wit, and he adored it. “Is that what you want to see me in?”
“No. I was just making a comparison.”
“All right, I will do anythingbutwear a bath towel.”
Leaning forward on her horse, she studied him in quiet deliberation. What wild wager would she require? Would he play along? She was sure he would, especially if he won. Seeing her wearing lovely dresses would give her more of a mature appearance—more alluring. Most of the time she looked out of place anyway.
