going to kill him.
Kill.
Kill kill kill.
But first she was going to make sure he didn’t win.
Anthony was smiling broadly—whistling, even—as he waited his turn. It was taking a ridiculously long amount of time to get back ’round to him, what with Kate so far behind that someone had to dash back to let her know when it was her turn, not to mention Edwina, who never seemed to understand the virtue of speedy play. It had been bad enough the last fourteen years, with her ambling along as if she had all day, but now she had Penelope, who would not allow her to hit the ball without her analysis and advice.
But for once, Anthony didn’t mind. He was in the lead, so far so that no one could possibly catch up. And just to make his victory all the sweeter, Kate was in last place.
So far so that she could not hope to overtake anyone.
It almost made up for the fact that Colin had snatched the mallet of death.
He turned toward the last wicket. He needed one stroke to get his ball at the ready, and one more to push it through. After that, he needed only to steer it to the final pole and end the game with a tap.
Child’s play.
He glanced back over his shoulder. He could see Daphne standing by the old oak tree. She was at the crest of a hill, and thus could see down where he could not.
“Whose turn is it?” he called out.
She craned her neck as she watched the others playing down the hill. “Colin’s, I believe,” she said, twisting back around, “which means Kate is next.”
He smiled at that.
He’d set the course up a little differently this year, in something of a circular fashion. The players had to follow a twisting pattern, which meant that as the crow flew, he was actually closer to Kate than he was to the others. In fact, he need only move about ten yards to the south, and he’d be able to watch her as she pushed on toward the fourth wicket.
Or was it merely the third?
Either way, he wasn’t going to miss it.
So, with a grin on his face, he jogged over. Should he call out? It would irritate her more if he called out.
But that would be cruel. And on the other hand—
CRACK!
Anthony looked up from his ponderings just in time to see the green ball hurtling in his direction.
What the devil?
Kate let out a triumphant cackle, picked up her skirts, and began running over.
“What in God’s name are you doing?” Anthony demanded. “The fourth wicket is that way.” He jabbed his finger in the appropriate direction even though he knew she knew where it was.
“I’m only on the third wicket,” she said archly, “and anyway, I’ve given up on winning. It’s hopeless at this point, don’t you think?”
Anthony looked at her, then he looked at his ball, resting peacefully near the last wicket.
Then he looked at her again.
“Oh no you don’t,” he growled.
She smiled slowly.
Deviously.
Like a witch.
“Watch me,” she said.
Just then Colin came dashing over the rise. “Your turn, Anthony!”
“How is that possible?” he demanded. “Kate just went, so there is Daphne, Edwina, and Simon between.”
“We went very quickly,” Simon said, striding forward. “We certainly don’t want to miss this .”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” he muttered, watching as the rest of them hurried near. He stalked over to his ball, narrowing his eyes as he prepared his aim.
“Be careful of the tree root!” Penelope called out.
Anthony grit his teeth.
“It wasn’t cheering,” she said, her face magnificently bland. “Surely a warning doesn’t qualify as cheer—”
“Shut up ,” Anthony ground out.
“We all have our place in this game,” she said, lips twitching.
Anthony turned around. “Colin!” he barked. “If you don’t wish to find yourself a widower, kindly muzzle your wife.”
Colin walked over to Penelope. “I love you,” he said, kissing her on the cheek.
“And I—”
“Stop it!” Anthony exploded. When all eyes turned to him, he added, rather in a grunt,
Kill.
Kill kill kill.
But first she was going to make sure he didn’t win.
Anthony was smiling broadly—whistling, even—as he waited his turn. It was taking a ridiculously long amount of time to get back ’round to him, what with Kate so far behind that someone had to dash back to let her know when it was her turn, not to mention Edwina, who never seemed to understand the virtue of speedy play. It had been bad enough the last fourteen years, with her ambling along as if she had all day, but now she had Penelope, who would not allow her to hit the ball without her analysis and advice.
But for once, Anthony didn’t mind. He was in the lead, so far so that no one could possibly catch up. And just to make his victory all the sweeter, Kate was in last place.
So far so that she could not hope to overtake anyone.
It almost made up for the fact that Colin had snatched the mallet of death.
He turned toward the last wicket. He needed one stroke to get his ball at the ready, and one more to push it through. After that, he needed only to steer it to the final pole and end the game with a tap.
Child’s play.
He glanced back over his shoulder. He could see Daphne standing by the old oak tree. She was at the crest of a hill, and thus could see down where he could not.
“Whose turn is it?” he called out.
She craned her neck as she watched the others playing down the hill. “Colin’s, I believe,” she said, twisting back around, “which means Kate is next.”
He smiled at that.
He’d set the course up a little differently this year, in something of a circular fashion. The players had to follow a twisting pattern, which meant that as the crow flew, he was actually closer to Kate than he was to the others. In fact, he need only move about ten yards to the south, and he’d be able to watch her as she pushed on toward the fourth wicket.
Or was it merely the third?
Either way, he wasn’t going to miss it.
So, with a grin on his face, he jogged over. Should he call out? It would irritate her more if he called out.
But that would be cruel. And on the other hand—
CRACK!
Anthony looked up from his ponderings just in time to see the green ball hurtling in his direction.
What the devil?
Kate let out a triumphant cackle, picked up her skirts, and began running over.
“What in God’s name are you doing?” Anthony demanded. “The fourth wicket is that way.” He jabbed his finger in the appropriate direction even though he knew she knew where it was.
“I’m only on the third wicket,” she said archly, “and anyway, I’ve given up on winning. It’s hopeless at this point, don’t you think?”
Anthony looked at her, then he looked at his ball, resting peacefully near the last wicket.
Then he looked at her again.
“Oh no you don’t,” he growled.
She smiled slowly.
Deviously.
Like a witch.
“Watch me,” she said.
Just then Colin came dashing over the rise. “Your turn, Anthony!”
“How is that possible?” he demanded. “Kate just went, so there is Daphne, Edwina, and Simon between.”
“We went very quickly,” Simon said, striding forward. “We certainly don’t want to miss this .”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” he muttered, watching as the rest of them hurried near. He stalked over to his ball, narrowing his eyes as he prepared his aim.
“Be careful of the tree root!” Penelope called out.
Anthony grit his teeth.
“It wasn’t cheering,” she said, her face magnificently bland. “Surely a warning doesn’t qualify as cheer—”
“Shut up ,” Anthony ground out.
“We all have our place in this game,” she said, lips twitching.
Anthony turned around. “Colin!” he barked. “If you don’t wish to find yourself a widower, kindly muzzle your wife.”
Colin walked over to Penelope. “I love you,” he said, kissing her on the cheek.
“And I—”
“Stop it!” Anthony exploded. When all eyes turned to him, he added, rather in a grunt,
Similar Books
