Chapter 26 #2
Though Mrs. Whittemore gasped and Mr. Whittemore cleared his throat loudly, Cy delighted in watching Violet turn a warm shade of pink.
She straightened herself, fighting a smile, but her pacing did not resume. He’d count it as a win.
Y
“You just knocked out three at once!” Violet exclaimed as if she were the only witness. A smattering of applause proved that wrong.
“I did, yes.” Cy tried not to gloat.
“This isn’t billiards, Mr. Burke,” she said, folding her arms.
“Ah. That explains the lack of cues, Miss Whittemore.”
“Well, you don’t get three more turns.” She spun to Lydia, who was whispering with Andrew. “Does he?”
Florrie and Oscar joined in the quiet discussion. They all seemed to reach an agreement, and Lydia stepped forward. “The games committee has determined that Mr. Burke gets a single bonus turn for his success.”
Violet spun, feeling smug, and grinned at Cyril.
“However,” Lydia added, “he may keep all three marbles for the end count, of course.”
Her smug grin dropped. He kept his steady gaze on hers as he dropped each marble. One. By. One. Into his bag.
Oh, her belly warmed and something fluttered near her heart.
This man.
If she’d been made for a challenge, he seemed to have been made to step up to it.
He must have noted the warmth of her thoughts, because something primal glittered in his eyes.
Heavens. If she had a fan, she’d use it.
“Ahem,” Lydia said.
“Let’s get on with it, young man,” Father said gruffly.
Cyril glanced at him, nodded, and crouched down to resume his play.
Sigh Burke, Violet thought and then chastised herself for allowing the moniker to come to mind.
Y
Florrie pointed with the tip of her parasol. “It is clearly outside the line.”
Oscar shook his head and crouched down. “I’d say it’s directly on the line, and that means it’s still inside the circle.”
“Look at it from this angle.”
Oscar stood beside Florrie, tilting his head. “I still say it’s on the line.”
“Rubbish. See that green swirl there? It’s clearly over the outside of the line.”
“Yes, but if you’d just get down and see it from the other angle, you’d realize the marble is over the inside of the line as well. Making it on the line.”
“I am not crouching down in the dirt,” Florrie said, her chin lifted. She raised her parasol and returned it to her shoulder for emphasis.
Oscar folded his arms. “Well then, Your Highness, you’ll have to concede to my judgment, as I have seen it from both sides, down on the ground.”
“I don’t have to concede anything.” Florrie spun and gave her back to Oscar, who jumped out of the way of her parasol before it could poke him in the eye.
Cyril exchanged looks with his sister, each of them biting back grins.
Andrew drew a hand down his face. “I believe we need secondary line judges,” he said.
Lydia nodded with a sigh. “Seconded.”
Y
Violet looked at the remaining marbles and did the math. Four marbles left in the circle, including their taws. She had thirteen in her bag. That meant Cyril had nine in his.
And it was his turn.
Violet held her breath as he took aim.
Clack.
Make that ten.
She pulled in a breath through her nose as the others clapped and Cyril dropped another marble into his bag. Without a glance at Violet, he moved to take his bonus shot. Their onlookers had become quieter as the number of marbles in the circle dwindled.
Knuckling down, he eyed the last marble across the ring and shot.
She gasped and he hung his head. “You missed!” she cried.
“Yes,” he said, pulling himself upright. “It is your turn, Miss Whittemore.” As she brushed past him, he pulled her gently to his side and spoke low near her ear. “Take care. Consider what you really, truly want.”
Violet pulled away only enough to meet his gaze. “I ask you to consider the same, once the final choice is made.”
“I already know what I want.”
The low timbre of his words moved over her body like a bow on strings, and for a moment, everyone, everything else disappeared.
Abruptly, he stepped away and she tipped toward the space he’d filled. Regaining her balance and her composure, somewhat, she located her trajectory. She gave her fingers a shake and crouched to take her shot. She’d take this last marble out, and then his taw.
Then she’d win and declare him headmaster.
No matter that her heart beat out of her chest and her fingers still shook. “Second star to the right and straight on ’til morning.” Determined, she took her aim with the white and blue marble and fired.
Her taw went just wide, rolling to a stop, mere inches from its target.
“No!” she declared, breathless. “No, I demand a do-over. He … he …” What could she accuse him of?
Scrambling her focus? Making her heart pound?
Turning her bones to jelly? He hadn’t even whispered in her ear, not precisely.
All looked at her expectantly. “Oh, never mind. I missed. I missed.” She pushed herself up and dusted her skirt at the knees.
Straightening, she turned to Cyril. “Mr. Burke, I believe it is your turn. Try not to waste the perfect shot I set up for you.” As she stepped past, she muttered, “It wouldn’t be the first time you did so. ”
She took great pleasure in his capitulating blush as it appeared on his cheeks. The others chuckled and clapped softly.
Ruby stepped to Violet and linked their arms as they awaited Cyril’s next move. “Just like old times,” Ruby whispered to Violet. Her small smile spoke volumes.
It was like old times. And new times. Almost as if ten years had simply folded to connect their before and now. Was it that simple though? It couldn’t be. It hadn’t been.
Clack.
Violet’s attention was jerked back to the game. There, in the outer ring, lay the last marble, and Cyril’s taw—the pink quartz marble—sat in perfect alignment to knock her own out of play and, with five extra points, out of the game.
“He could still miss,” Ruby whispered.
“He won’t,” Violet answered.
“How can you be so sure?”
Violet inhaled and released a soft breath. “Because he’s Cyril Burke.”
She sensed Ruby’s smile but kept her eyes on a pink marble and its white and blue counterpart, her heartbeat keeping its own time.
Clack.