Page 7 of The Hellion and the Captain (Scandals and Scores #2)

Chapter Seven

R hys was annoyed.

He thought he had made the importance of spending time with the team clear to Williams. The man had done as he had asked – he had showed up – but after an hour of mostly sitting among them and commenting now and then without revealing anything about himself, he had disappeared for ten minutes, reappearing only to say farewell, telling them that he had a family matter he had to see to and that he looked forward to next practice.

Rhys didn’t even know the man had a family. He looked far too young to have children, but perhaps he just had one of those faces.

Rhys also couldn’t help the bit of jealousy that twinged deep within his stomach when he thought of Williams returning to a wife and children.

While he was aware that no one would likely have ever guessed it, it was a life that he had always envisioned for himself, but as of yet, it had not come to fruition.

It wasn’t for lack of trying. But so far, every young woman he had allowed close had turned out to either be with him because he had made something of himself and she was trying to escape her own dire situation, or she became so agreeable to anything he said that he became bored to the point that he couldn’t stand anymore time in her company.

They all thought him to be a cad when he ended things, but he considered that he was doing them a kindness for snipping it off sooner rather than later.

He liked when he was challenged, when he was pushed a little bit.

It was why he loved football so much. He could never relax, never become complacent.

His head followed the sound of the tavern door opening, but he wasn’t paying much attention – at least, not until he realized just who had walked in.

Emmaline Whitmore.

She never dressed in excess of the fashion of the day – at least not that he had ever seen. Her bustles were typically modest, her gowns subdued yet still made of a high-quality fabric.

Tonight was an exception. She wore an ill-fitting, faded blue gown, the dull fabric clearly patched and mended in a few places, the seams straining across the bodice and her hips.

She was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

It was an admission that he refused to share with anyone, for it was a foolish sentiment. Despite having witnessed his friend recently marry the daughter of a viscount, he was well aware that he had nothing to offer a woman like Miss Whitmore.

Besides, she drove him crazy. She would be fun to spend time with, but he could hardly imagine putting up with her spunk on a daily basis.

“Emmaline!” Lily exclaimed from beside him, and she rose as her friend joined them. Miss Whitmore smiled widely, but it appeared forced to Rhys. Was that nervousness he saw in her expression? He had no idea what she would have to fear from any of them.

Unless…

“Did you arrive here alone?” he asked suddenly, and she looked over to him, quirking an eyebrow that seemed darker than he remembered.

“Are you my keeper, Mr. Lockwood?” she asked, all fear wiped away, only for that sass he secretly admired to remain. “I do not recall asking for your permission.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I am concerned for your safety, Miss Whitmore. I am sure you can appreciate that.”

“Ever the protector,” she said, rounding the table to sit across from Lily, in Williams’ seat — meaning the woman was now sitting right beside him. She patted his arm. “I appreciate your concern for me.”

“I never said?—”

“Earlier, you were asking where Emmaline was,” Lily said, a devilish glint to her eye.

Rhys suddenly realized just what had happened.

He had opened his big mouth and asked something he never should have asked, and Lily had somehow sent word to her friend, who had now arrived at the pub just to annoy him. Wonderful.

“I was only curious,” he said through gritted teeth, aware that many of the players were now staring at him with interest. “You’re always together.”

“Well, I’m here now,” Emmaline said, reaching out and grabbing a half-cup of ale.

“That’s not yours,” he said.

She stopped with the cup halfway to her mouth. “It isn’t?”

“No. It was Williams’. But I suppose it doesn’t much matter as he buggered off.”

“Williams,” she said, her body stiff, although for what reason he couldn’t imagine. “I’m not sure I’ve met him.”

“He just joined the club,” Rhys said. “Took Joey’s place.”

For some reason, he had no interest in speaking about another man with her.

“We must introduce you very soon, Emmaline,” Lily said unhelpfully, and Rhys and Miss Whitmore both turned and glared at her. Apparently, Miss Whitmore also didn’t appreciate being set up.

“I would look forward to that very much,” Miss Whitmore said through gritted teeth before her smile returned. What kind of game was she playing? “From what I have heard about him, he is a fine addition to the club. Good choice, Mr. Lockwood.”

“What could you possibly have heard about him? It would be hard to learn anything about the man, for he barely speaks,” Rhys said.

“I’m sure he has good reason not to,” Emmaline returned, and he wondered why she would care about defending a man she had never met.

Unless she had, and that was the reason for the concern he had read on her face. Had Williams done something to her? It was hard to imagine, for she was a strong woman and didn’t seem like one to ever back away from a challenge, but then one never knew.

He would have to steal a moment alone with her to get to the bottom of this. If Williams had done anything contrary to the ethics of the team, he needed to know, and he would rather know now, before it was too late.

Rhys leaned in closer to Miss Whitmore, his gaze intense. “Perhaps you could enlighten me then, Miss Whitmore. What good reason might a man have for being so evasive and aloof?”

Miss Whitmore met his stare defiantly, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Why, Mr. Lockwood, I would have thought a man of your intellect could deduce such a thing. Maybe he simply finds his present company...lacking.”

“Lacking?” Rhys scoffed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite his irritation. “I’ll have you know, Miss Whitmore, that the men on this team are the finest in Manchester. Williams should count himself lucky to be among them.”

“Oh, I’m sure he does,” Miss Whitmore replied airily, taking a sip of the ale. Unlike most ladies — Lily included — she didn’t make a face at the taste, but rather, seemed to enjoy it. “Perhaps he prefers more... stimulating conversation.”

Rhys raised an eyebrow, his competitive nature rising to the challenge. “Conversation you believe that someone like you would supply?”

“I don’t believe , Mr. Lockwood. I know.” Emmaline’s lips curved into a confident smile. “But I wouldn’t want to overwhelm you with my wit and charm. I know how easily a man like you can be distracted.”

“Is that so?” Rhys growled. “I assure you, Miss Whitmore, I am as focused a man you have ever met. I will not be distracted, especially not by a woman who only thinks herself clever.”

“I don’t believe you’ve ever met a woman with the wit that could properly keep a man engaged,” Emmaline retorted, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Perhaps that’s why you find yourself so unfulfilled in your personal life.”

Rhys stiffened slightly, surprised by her boldness and how her words had struck him, deep in his soul.

He had never spoken of his true longings to another, so it was not as though she actually had any knowledge of what he sought.

She had just gotten lucky with her barb.

He quickly schooled his features, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of knowing she had affected him.

“My personal life is none of your concern, Miss Whitmore,” he said coolly. “But I can assure you, I am quite content.”

“Of course you are,” Emmaline replied, her tone laced with sarcasm.

“You’re a man who spends all his time on the football pitch or in a bank, surrounded by other men, with no wife or children to speak of.

Who spends his nights in a pub, forcing the men of his club to spend time with him so that he is not alone. The very picture of contentment.”

Rhys narrowed his eyes, his jaw clenching. She was infuriating, the way she seemed to see right through him. But there was something about her brazenness, her refusal to back down, that he couldn’t help but find intriguing.

“Perhaps we should change the subject,” he suggested, trying to regain control of this discussion.

His teammates had gone back to their own topics of conversation, but he could tell they all had one ear on his exchange with Miss Whitmore.

“I wouldn’t want to bore you with the details of my personal life. ”

“Oh, I’m not bored at all,” Emmaline said, leaning forward, her elbows resting on the table. “In fact, I find you oddly fascinating, Mr. Lockwood. Please, do go on.”

Rhys couldn’t help but chuckle at her audacity, sensing Colin’s stare, knowing it was because he laughed so infrequently, but then, not much amused him. “You’re a stubborn one, aren’t you?”

“I prefer the term ‘determined,’“ Emmaline corrected him, a playful smile on her lips. “And I’m determined to unravel the mystery that is Rhys Lockwood.”

“There’s no mystery to unravel,” he insisted, taking a swig of his own ale. “I’m a simple man with simple needs.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that,” Emmaline said, her gaze roaming over his face as if she were trying to read his thoughts. “I think there’s much more to you than meets the eye.”

Rhys shifted in his seat, feeling both unnerved and intrigued by her scrutiny.

He opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by the sound of chairs scraping against the floor as several of his teammates stood up.

Mickey was yawning, Hardy stretching his arms out wide to the side.

Even Colin and Lily looked ready to leave, but instead of appearing tired, they seemed much more interested in time alone.