Page 60 of A Royal Mistake

Their eyes locked, and they dove for it at the same time. Henry got there first, and it would have been a brilliant play if Gabriel hadn’t been leading with his elbow. His head snapped to the side on impact and pain lanced through his temple.

Then everything went black.

15

Holy mother-of-pearl!Pippa dropped to the edge of the pool, kneeling at the water’s edge as Dom dragged Henry—who had a hand pressed to his forehead in an attempt to staunch the flow of blood—to the side of the pool, glaring at Gabriel the entire way.

Beside him, Henry also glared at the Spanish prince.

Anxiety gnawed at her belly. She’d never had two men fighting over her. Although, technically, they weren’t fighting over her, were they? It was just a rough game. It wasn’t like Gabriel had hit Henry on purpose.

Pippa chewed her lip.

Just keep telling yourself that, Bunny.

“Are you okay?” she asked, as Henry floated up and grabbed the side of the pool. Bollocks. What kind of question was that? Of course, he wasn’t okay. His eyes were unfocused and his head was gushing like a fountain. “Never mind. Let’s just get you out of the pool.”

“I’m fine,” he said dismissively. Below water, his legs moved in a steady rhythm, keeping his body afloat. “I’ve taken worse hits.”

The last bit was directed at Gabriel, who dipped his chin and issued an obligatory—and completely insincere—apology.

Are men always this stupid?

“Even so, you should probably get that looked at.” Dom turned to Pippa. “Is there somewhere you can get him patched up?”

“Of course.” Why hadn’t she thought of that? “There’s a first aid kit in the pool house. I’ll go get it.”

“It might be best if Henry goes with you,” Dom said, a fine line appearing between his brows. “I think we’ve all had enough excitement for one day.”

Henry muttered something that sounded like “subtle”and hauled himself out of the pool, keeping one hand pressed to his forehead. Water sluiced off his muscular body, pooling on the cement as he climbed to his feet.

Pippa swallowed, unable to tear her gaze from his glistening skin. The man looked like a freaking Adonis, standing there wet and shiny in the sun, his lean muscles on full display.

“Lead the way, Your Highness.”

Right. He needed first aid, not ogling.

She gripped his arm and led the way.

Back in the dimly lit pool house, she grabbed a towel and tossed it over one of the plush chairs, gesturing for Henry to sit. He did as instructed, and she retrieved the first aid kit from the cupboard, balancing it on the arm of the chair to his left. She pulled out a gauze pad and tore it open, offering it to him.

“Apply pressure,” she ordered, wincing at the gash on his forehead. It was already swelling and the skin around the cut was turning an angry purple.

She opened another gauze pad and dashed into the bathroom to wet it. When she returned, she said, “This might hurt a bit.”

Henry flashed a devilish grin. “Do your worst.”

He lowered his own gauze pad, and she gently wiped the blood from his forehead, trying to get a better look at the cut above his right brow. “You’re lucky he didn’t get you in the eye.”

Henry shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

She froze, and he seemed to sense her confusion.

“I played water polo at uni. I wasn’t kidding when I said I’ve survived worse injuries.”

She nodded slowly and resumed swabbing his forehead. “It’s a brutal sport. I just don’t see the allure.”

Henry chuckled, then winced when she dabbed at the cut.