Don’t be tedious, Lavay. If it’s so necessary for you to know,” he said ungraciously. “She won a contest.”

There was a short stunned silence.

“You…played a game?” Lavay said this slow, flat incredulity, hilarity suppressed, clearly trying to picture it. “And you lost to a…girl. What manner of contest was this? Ribbon-tying?”

Flint felt ridiculous now, in retrospect, which was doing nothing to settle his temper. “I challenged her to aim a dart…let’s just say it landed rather serendipitously in the right spot,”

he finished curtly. “She was lucky.”

“You speak metaphorically, Captain? She aimed a dart as in the vein of Cupid?

Autore: Julie Anne Long