Page 66 of Hearts of Locke Hill

She shook her head. He was missing the point entirely. “Youdid.”

He rocked back on his feet. “I did? Oh, that’s right. I did. We just discussed this very marble at the May fair. Extraordinary. So … did you make this for me, then?”

“No, I did not.”

He frowned. “I don’t understand.” He tipped his head in thought. “Where did you find it? I haven’t seen it in ages. Why, if you hadn’t mentioned it at the fair, I doubt I would’ve recognized it.”

She searched his returning gaze, feeling a flush rise from her chest. Could they have been wrong? His green eyes remained clear, expectant of an explanation that made sense. But if he had all but forgotten the marble, she had no sensible explanation to give him.

She gulped. “Thevictory,” she began, the gears of her mind turning, “is that I now have the marble in my possession, after losing it to you in a game of ringtaw.”

He looked at the marble, then back at her. He shook his head. “Violet Grace Whittemore. There is no victory in thievery.” He tsked. “I must say, I’m disappointed.”

She clenched her fists. “I didn’tstealit. Ruby found it amongst your things and showed it to me.”

“Ah. And then you stole it.”

She stomped her foot. “I didn’t steal it! She showed it to me, and then we made this little misunderstood display!”

He scrunched his brow. “And you didn’t make it for me?”

Och. The infernal man. “Yes. Here.” She lifted the display and shoved it at him.

He took it, obviously bewildered.

“Take it as a reminder that … that …” She glanced around as if the answer were written on the walls. Her gaze was drawn to the photograph of her Wendy-birds. “As a reminder,” she said, turning back to him, “that even though I lost this small, insignificant marble”—she tried not to gaze longingly at it—“I am no longer small. We are not playing a child’s game. This school issignificant. And”—she straightened to her full height—“I will be victorious.”

“Well,” he said, “brava.”

She was breathing a bit heavily and was sure her face was in full flush.“Grazie.”

He lifted the display again to its place on the shelf. “Under the circumstances, I believe I’ll place it here. Both of us will have the steady reminder, then, of what this marble signifies.”

She pulled in a breath and dashed a few strands of hair out of her face. “Perfect.”

He rested his hands on the shelf and spoke to the books. “One thing bothers me, however. I’m almost ashamed to admit it.”

“What is that?”

“You still have my marble.” He put his hands in his pockets and took a lazy step toward her. “White porcelain, speckled with blue.”

Her eyes widened. “Perhaps I do. Somewhere. And?”

“I want it back.”

Her mouth dropped open. “I just gave youthatone.”

“Eh,” he said, his face scrunched. “Did you though?” He took another step closer, glanced back at the marble in its case, then looked back at her, all befuddlement gone. Nothing but steady, piercing green. “I want a rematch.”

She steadied her voice. “What, in ringtaw?”

Challenge lit his eyes. “Yes. At the end of this term. Before a decision is made. It could be … fun.”

Her lips twitched. After all her bluster and regaining her wits, he was bringing it back down to a game ofmarbles? How dare he? How dare— She met him gaze for gaze, her blood zinging. “Absolutely.”

Chapter 17

“You’ve stolen my gardener!”