Ines took her turn. She bent her knees, focused her sharp eyes on the target, and released her bowl with a smooth, elegant roll. It curved beautifully across the green, coming to rest a mere six inches from the white jack.
"Oh, well done, Your Grace!" Celine clapped her gloved hands together.
"Your turn, Lady Celine," Ines encouraged. "Just mirror my stance. We must not let them win."
Celine stepped up. She was nervous, but she focused on the task. She rolled her bowl. It bumped gently against Ines's bowl, settling right next to the target.
"A brilliant shot!" Ines cheered.
The game continued in this disastrous fashion for nearly an hour.
Rowan could not focus. Every time Delaney stepped up to roll, he found his eyes drawn to the delicate curve of her neck, the stray wisps of dark hair escaping her bun, and the graceful way she moved. He was so distracted by his own painful yearning that he played terribly.
