Page 109 of Hearts of Locke Hill

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. Imissed.” 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.

Itwaslike old times. And new times. Almost as if ten yearshad 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.

Chapter 27

“Well, Mr. Burke?” Lydia asked. “What say you?”

All eyes were on him. He’d stood, but he still stared down at the game. At the white-and-blue-flecked taw clearly sitting outside the inner circle.

After a long moment, he lifted his head. “I think I’d like a word with my opponent.” He looked to Hugh Whittemore. The man nodded and offered his wife an arm as they turned away for what looked like a leisurely stroll.

When he turned his gaze to Violet, the others made their excuses, finding the surrounding flora suddenly interesting.

Violet had gone still, like a hare sensing danger. “What have you done to my father?” she whispered.

He dared smile. “That is what you have to say?”