Page 29 of A Royal Mistake

Philip’s elbow shifted and she used the momentum to tip his hand toward the table once again.

Henry’s breath caught, and he sent up a silent prayer for her victory.

But before Pippa could slam his hand down, Philip half-rose from his seat. The elevated stance gave him more leverage, and he easily reversed their positions.

The men surrounding them booed and someone shouted something that sounded like “bleeding cheater”as Henry barked at them to reset.

They repositioned their hands and this time, when he gave the signal, Pippa was in control. Fire burned in her eyes as she slowly tipped Philip’s hand. Her bicep tensed and a bead of sweat trickled down her right temple, but she didn’t give a centimeter.

Come on, Pippa. You’ve got this.

She could do it. He knew she could. If she could handle digging wells in the dead of summer, she could sure as shit defeat this wanker.

Philip grunted, biting his lower lip and just when Henry was sure the prick would try another dirty move, Pippa slammed his hand down on the table with a thud.

“The princess wins!” Henry announced, slamming his own palm on the table as a boisterous cheer went up from the suitors and the men began calling in their bets.

Philip stood, cheeks flushed, and whirled on Henry. “Her palms were sweaty.” He jerked his chin toward Pippa. “I couldn’t get a good grip. I should get another go.”

Kuhscheiße. Didn’t the kid have an ounce of pride?

“The referee’s decision is final.” Henry stood, rising to his full height. “Take the loss and show some bloody sportsmanship.” He turned to Pippa. “Congratulations, Your Highness. Well played.”

“Thank you.” A wide smile split her face as she stood, scooping up the roses that lay on the table. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some suitors to release.”

He watched as she moved among the men, handing out flowers. When she was finished, two of them were empty-handed.

One was a man he didn’t recognize, and the other was Philip.

No surprise there.

Good riddance.

“You’re going to send me home early and the philanthropist gets to stay?” Philip spluttered, glaring at Henry. “He doesn’t even have a title. This is complete and utter shite. I demand an audience with the king.”

“Your time would be better spent packing,” Pippa said evenly. “You’ll be leaving first thing in the morning.”

Philip threw up his hands and stomped off like a spoiled little shit.

“Thank God that’s over,” she said, rejoining him. “Longest afternoon of my life.”

Henry chuckled. “Remind me to never make you angry.”

“Very funny.”

“Where did you learn to arm wrestle like that?” He knew little of princess training, but he was certain it didn’t include arm wrestling.

“Xander went through a phase.” She shrugged. “I only beat him once, but it would seem the practice paid off.”

“Indeed.” He sure as hell wouldn’t be challenging her any time soon.

“Two down,” she whispered, gaze sweeping over the lawn. “Ten to go.”

“You’ve certainly got your work cut out for you.” Judging by the afternoon’s events, it was going to be an uphill battle all the way.

Pippa hooked her arm through his, a devilish grin curving her full lips. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I’ve found the perfect co-conspirator to help me with my plans.”

LUCKY NUMBER 13?