Page 70 of A Royal Mistake

“Stay focused,” Prince Gabriel barked from the opposite hedge. “They must be close.”

Right. She needed to keep her head in the game if she didn’t want to get shot again.

Henry was right. It hurt like a bitch. Her thigh still throbbed from where the paint pod had exploded against her tender flesh. She’d only been tagged once, and it wasn’t an experience she was eager to repeat.

Prince Dominik had gotten the drop on her during the last game, shooting her at point blank range.

No mercy, that one.

No doubt he’d taken pleasure in her elimination. Payback for his foray into the fountain so many weeks ago. His victory celebration had been short-lived though. Henry had dropped him with a shot to the balls. So that was something, at least.

Two games in and they were tied 1-1. The winner of this game would walk away with bragging rights. If she was lucky, maybe she’d get to share her own private victory dance with Henry.

Pippa sighed, her hot breath warming her already flushed face inside the helmet.

Win or lose, she couldn’t wait to peel off the bloody coveralls.

Whose brilliant idea was it to play three games, anyway?

Oh, right. Hers. Clearly a rookie mistake.

The first two games had been vicious, both teams taking a disturbing amount of pleasure in eliminating the competition. You’d have thought she promised the winner her hand in marriage. Or at the very least, a private date.

A branch cracked to her left and she swung her gun toward the sound, scanning the bushes for movement. She counted to ten, and when there was no further sound, she returned her attention to Henry.

He’d been incredibly protective, not leaving her side the entire game, even when it might have earned them the advantage. Maybe she should’ve been incensed—after all, she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself—but she couldn’t muster the outrage. His desire to protect her was sexy as hell.

“Let’s finish this,” she whispered.

Henry’s head swiveled toward her, eyes moving in a continuous sweep of the area. “What do you have in mind?”

She shrugged. “You’re the strategist.”

“Well, I do have one idea.” He smirked. “Sort of a last-ditch effort that involves sacrificing Gabriel.”

Pippa laughed, her shoulders shaking. “Count me in.”

“What are you two whispering about over there?” Gabriel asked, not bothering to hide his annoyance. He’d abandoned any pretense of camaraderie right around the time Pippa had ducked to save her own skin and he’d taken a paint pod meant for her.

Honestly, he wanted to marry her. Was it too much to expect that he’d take a round for her? It wasn’t like she expected him to take arealbullet.

“Let’s move.” Henry flicked his wrist, gesturing for Gabriel to advance. “We need to get to the flag before they pin us down again.”

Gabriel held his position, crouching low in the bushes. His jumpsuit was splattered with paint, front and back. “After you, Hotshot.”

Pippa shifted her weapon to her left hand. When she’d first picked it up, the damn thing had seemed light enough, but after carrying it around for nearly two hours, her fingers were cramping and her biceps were screaming for relief.

“Oh, honestly.” She glared at Gabriel as she inched past Henry, keeping her head low. “I’ll go.”

“Absolutely not,” Henry hissed, grabbing her arm and nearly toppling her in her tracks. “Stay behind me.”

Pippa met his steely gaze with one of her own. “I can lead. I don’t need you to protect me.”

“Never said you did, princess, but that doesn’t change the fact that I want to.” He shook his head in disgust. “You think I enjoyed seeing you get pelted with paint earlier?”

“No, I don’t think you enjoyed it.” She rolled her eyes for good measure. “But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s part of the game. A gameIorchestrated.”

Henry pressed his lips flat, as if trying to trying to bite back an argument. “Fine. We’ll go together.”