“It usually is,” Annabel chuckled. “But this is a gentler version of the real game.”
The boy tugged her sleeve again. “Please, me lady.”
Margaret hesitated. The sensible answer would be no. A lady of her standing did not typically participate in games with muddy boots and shrieking children in the middle of a castle courtyard. But the hopeful faces around her made refusal unexpectedly difficult. And, if she were honest, she had spent far too much of the past week behaving sensibly.
“Well,” she said cautiously, “if the rules are truly that simple?—”
The children erupted with cheers before she could finish the sentence. Margaret barely had time to set aside her gloves before the ball was placed firmly into her hands. It was surprisingly heavy.
“Now what?” she asked.
The boy pointed across the courtyard. “Throw it!”
Margaret raised a brow. “At whom?”
“At anyone!” the boy chuckled with glee.
Margaret considered this briefly. Then she tossed the ball gently toward one of the girls. The girl caught it and immediatelydarted away, three other children chasing her in delighted chaos. Margaret folded her arms, observing.
“Aye,” she mused to herself thoughtfully. “This appears tae be a sport built entirely on running.”
“Ye must run, too!” the boy insisted.
“I must nae,” she retorted.
“Ye must!”
Margaret shook her head.
“I have already thrown the ball. That feels like adequate participation.”
Unfortunately, the girl with the ball had now been cornered. In desperation, she flung it toward Margaret. Margaret caught it instinctively. The children immediately charged.
Margaret blinked.
“Oh, dear.”
She turned and ran. The courtyard exploded with laughter. She had not run across a stone yard in years, and certainly not with three determined children chasing her ankles.
“Give it back!” someone shouted.
“Ye just gave it tae me!” Margaret protested.
“That’s nae the point!”
Another burst of laughter exploded, before she attempted a graceful sidestep. It failed completely when one of the boys intercepted her. Margaret squeaked and tossed the ball hastily to another child. The game continued. For several minutes the courtyard echoed with laughter as Margaret found herself entirely absorbed in the ridiculous sport.
She dodged. She passed the ball. At one point, she nearly collided with a small girl who giggled so hard she collapsed onto the stones.
Margaret leaned against the low wall, breathless and smiling in spite of herself.
“This game,” she declared, “is designed tae exhaust respectable ladies.”
“Ye are very fast, me lady,” the boy informed her proudly.
“I am very tired,” Margaret corrected, but she was still smiling.
The boy ignored this distinction and tossed the ball to her again.
