Stumped

By Pamela Q. Fernandes

Love behind the wickets.

English vice-Captain Claude de Lussan is the poster boy for English cricket. He’s smart, handsome, rich and a damn fine cricketer. And Delilah Taylor loves him to bits. Her whole existence revolves around him so much so, she polishes his autographed ball from his first century every weekend as it sits in her cabinet. Except, Claude de Lussan doesn’t love her back.
Following a heady summer, she finds herself suddenly married and divorced from the cricketer only to find him return to her world years later. Can they resolve old hurts and bury the past to rebuild a future together? Can they overcome family resentment, old flames and misunderstandings to accept that they what they had was and still is special?
Bonus Content: A sneak peek of Goalstruck, Book 3 in the To Love a Sportsman series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: TouchPoint Press
• Release date: Jul 9, 2021
• ISBN: 1952816610

Pamela Q. Fernandes

Pamela Q. Fernandes is a doctor, author, and medical writer. She hosts The Christian Circle Podcast and plays the piano. When she's not writing or practicing medicine, she's baking or traveling the world. She started as an author with Seoul-Mates and since then has written many romances, UNDER A SCOTTISH SKY, CINDERS OF CASTLEREA & other short stories. Pamela writes romance, speculative fiction, women's fiction, and Christian non-fiction.

Book preview

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PAMELA Q. FERNANDES

Relax. Read. Repeat.

STUMPED: LOVE BEHIND THE WICKETS

(To Love A Sportsman, Book 2)

By Pamela Q. Fernandes

Published by TouchPoint Press

Brookland, AR 72417

www.touchpointpress.com

Copyright © 2021 Pamela Q. Fernandes

All rights reserved.

eBook Edition

(Softcover) ISBN: 978-1-952816-61-1

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are

fictitious. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead,

are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names,

or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective

owners and are used only for reference. If any of these terms are used,

no endorsement is implied. Except for review purposes, the

reproduction of this book, in whole or part, electronically or

mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation. Address permissions

and review inquiries to [e-mail].

Cover Design: ColbieMyles.com

Cover Images: Cricket stumps and cricket ball (Shutterstock); Couple holding hands: Summer in love by 271 EAK MOTO (Shutterstock); cricket ball on pitch after hitting stumps by djtaylor (Adobe Stock); Cricket stumps and bails hit by a ball by woodsy (Adobe Stock)

Visit the author’s website at https://www.pamelaqfernandes.com

First Edition

For Valencia,

Sweetheart, it will be years before you can

read this, but this one’s for you!

Chapter 1 – Direct Hit

Chapter 2 – Off the Mark

Chapter 3 – On Strike

Chapter 4 – Corridor of Uncertainty

Chapter 5 – All Out

Chapter 6 – Leg Bye

Chapter 7 – Follow Through

Chapter 8 – Farm the Strike

Chapter 9 – Shelled a Dolly

Chapter 10 – Facing the Bouncer

Chapter 11 – Carry the Bat

Chapter 12 – Chin Music

Chapter 13 – Back Foot

Chapter 14 - Appeal

Chapter 15 – Death Overs

Other Books by Pamela Q. Fernandes

Bonus Content

Chapter 1 – Direct Hit

Love moves in mysterious ways. The words came to Delilah Taylor as she sat stumped, her eyes on the man who sat halfway across the pub not ten feet from her. Claude de Lussan. Just saying his name opened up the scar tissue she thought sealed the wound of her heart. A direct hit to her soul.

It had been two years since the divorce had come through. Two whole years. His last words to her had been, Good riddance. All the pain from that day came hurtling back. Delilah could barely suck in air. Her sloppy emotions threatened to break through to the surface.

Anger rose to the front of her mind. How dare he come here? Lincolnshire was her town. She’d moved here to get away from him, to force his memory out of her mind. All the counseling she’d received for the last two years had been in vain because seeing him here proved one thing. She was still in love with the man.

The realization scared her. Even now as she looked at him, she felt a pang in her heart. His light hair rolled off in waves like it did when they first met. Why couldn’t he have turned bald or fat?

He laughed at something the man beside him said. He looked happy. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. How long had he been there? Had he noticed her when she entered? Would he remember her?

She wanted him to look up. For his baby blue eyes to glance at her just once. It was silly and dangerous given how they’d parted. But how would it hurt? Muriel, her agent, had left to make a phone call. She should get up and shift her chair, so she wasn’t in his direct line of sight. Once Muriel came back the taller woman would obscure Claude’s view of Delilah, yet she felt the panic rise as her heart galloped in her chest.

She saw the furtive glances other women threw his way. The waitress stopped at his table and bent low to give him a view of her ample cleavage. Jealousy sparked through her. Even after two years, nothing had changed. He looked even more handsome, and he had clearly gotten over her. Tears laced her eyes.

Muriel returned, and that was the end of her viewing. They wrapped up lunch. Laughing about something, Muriel got up, strode out, and stood by the door while Delilah pulled out her umbrella. The last thing she wanted was to walk to her place in the rain, but she couldn’t risk going back inside. Muriel would head to London, and she’d go back to painting her forestscapes. Although painting was unimaginable right now. The only thing on her mind was Claude.

Claude, Claude, Claude! His name was like a tolling bell in her mind.

Muriel grasped her arm. Do you want the cab to drop you home first? This downpour will have you soaked by the time you reach the cottage.

I’ll be fine, she lied. Besides you have a train to catch. Carry on.

The women exchanged a hug and Delilah watched the cab drive off.

Right, Delilah muttered to herself, about to make her way outside.

I don’t suppose you have an extra umbrella, do you?

That voice. Even after two years his voice sent a shock through her skin and settled like a dead weight in her stomach. His presence near her jarred Delilah’s senses.

He still had that slight French drawl that she remembered except his voice was gentle. There was no hatred or anger in his voice.

She turned toward him and examined his face, looking for signs of recognition. A scar split his right eyebrow in two. She stared at it, wondering how she’d forgotten it was there. Time did indeed make you forget some things. She wanted to run away, to cry, to smile, to hug him—all at the same time.

Delilah could barely form a response. Her throat felt choked. Err … no.

His eyes touched her eyes, her button nose, her small lips, the mole at her temple. He was seeing her as if they’d met for the first time.

She craned her head up to meet his gaze when she realized he was waiting for her to continue.

No. I just have the one, but I could drop you to your car if you’d like.

His eyes drifted toward the parking lot to the rain beating down the pavement then back to her face. His expression was unreadable. There was a time Delilah could read him so easily. Angry, sad, upset, craving chocolate, frustrated, lost a wicket, bowled out—she knew without him having to say a word. Now there was nothing. Maybe he didn’t recognize her after all. That hurt even more.

She was forgettable for a man who had French blue blood flowing in his veins. It cut deep.

Lead the way, he said.

Every limb burst into fire as she opened her umbrella and he huddled over her. His tall, lean frame crouched behind her with his arm wrapped around her shoulder. He closed his other fist over hers as it gripped the handle of the umbrella.

Claude directed her toward his car and Delilah followed one step behind. She watched him open the door and seat himself, his long, powerful legs swinging into the car. She turned to leave when he caught her wrist. His touch burned her.

Hey, why don’t I give you a lift? It’s pouring, and it’s the least I could do. I insist.

She only said yes because he wouldn’t relinquish her arm. At least that’s what she told herself as she gave him the address. Sitting in the car, back straight, Delilah was aware of his strong arm and his lean frame, his scent, and even his breathing. Everything about him affected her in a way it shouldn’t have.

Her ex-husband didn’t remember her. She shouldn’t have been surprised. Delilah had never mattered to him. Why did it hurt so much?

He dropped his phone in between the two seats. Ten minutes into the drive it rang, and she was jerked out of her thoughts. The screensaver was of him and another woman, arms clasped beaming at the camera.

Delilah felt a fresh stab of pain. Him and Grace.

She turned away.

The conversation washed over her. He had someone else, she reminded herself.

He turned onto the corner of Winsford Street. You should stop here, she said. The car won’t go through. The road narrows.

It was a lie but she didn’t want him to drive her all the way home, and she didn’t want to spend another minute in the car with him.

Oh, I’ll stop right here.

Thank you for the ride.

She got out of the car and was about to close the door when he said, It was good to see you again, Delilah. The pleasure is all mine. He gave her a sad smile.

She closed the door and watched him drive away, rooted to the spot.

The downpour soaked her clothes straight through, but she didn’t care. She stood there until he turned the corner and disappeared. Then she walked onto the dirt road to her rented cottage. She made no move to open her umbrella. Delilah let the rain wash her, baptize her from this sadness that engulfed her heart.

Hello again and goodbye.

Yes, Delilah still loved Claude de Lussan.

Chapter 2 – Off the Mark

Claude de Lussan couldn’t believe it when he saw his ex-wife sitting alone at a pub table. It was funny how much she’d changed.

Her once short, straight hair was tied in a low ponytail that curled around her left breast. And no matter how much she tried to hide her chocolate brown eyes behind those spectacles they were the best part of her heart-shaped face.

He remembered the first time he’d met her.

He’d been invited to a victory party thrown for the cricket team when they won at Lord’s, beating Australia by a hundred runs. The party had the usual glitterati—the luvvies, the wannabes, the reality stars, and everyone else. The director of the English Cricket Board had taken him aside and introduced him to a young woman dressed in a summer dress the color of the sky.

Mr. Claude de Lussan, this is Lady Grace Templeton, daughter of Baron Templeton and this is her companion.

The moment he’d laid eyes on Grace Templeton he was lost. Grace towered over everyone. She was at least five-ten compared to her companion’s five-four. Her megawatt smile made him stop in his tracks. Grace’s fiery red hair burned bright in the room. Everything about her screamed perfection.

Hi, I’m ... I’m ... ah….

Grace giggled. Claude de Lussan. Yes, I know. This is my friend, Delilah Taylor. She’s doing a creative arts degree at the same college where I study.

Claude’s gaze flicked toward Delilah and dismissed her instantly. She wore a simple shirt over trousers and quite honestly looked like Grace’s secretary. Unlike the other women in attendance, she’d worn no make makeup and had done nothing about her very short hair.

Delilah was probably used to being overlooked when she stood next to Grace because she didn’t mind his lack of interest. Her friend blew everyone out of her orbit.

Grace was charming and funny, and she had the uncanny ability of making any man feel like he was floating on a cloud, he observed as various people greeted her.

Claude couldn’t stop smiling. She was the very epitome of her name. Grace personified. He’d never believed in love at first sight until the moment he met Grace.

He asked her question after question about herself, fascinated by each answer. Her voice was soothing. He could listen to her read the Old Testament and still find it interesting. And her eyes. She had eyes so pale and clear he didn’t know whether he could even call it blue.

They orbited each other all night long. Grace would excuse herself to visit the buffet table or greet someone else but her eyes would find him in the crowd a few minutes later, and they would drift back together like magnets. Claude didn’t pay attention to anyone else. As far as he was concerned, they were the only two people in the room.

He didn’t have to tell Grace that he loved her. She already knew.

There was no denying Claude had it bad for Grace. He would marry Grace Templeton. End of.

When they parted at the end of the night, she gave him her number and a peck on the cheek. He felt like a giddy schoolboy falling in love for the first time.

He didn’t call her for three days. Courage failed him. Usually, he was a fairly confident guy. Then there was Grace. Life took on a new meaning after he met her. Colors deepened, and for the first time, he noticed the melodies of life, birdsong, and children.

Finally, he worked up the nerve to call her. When she picked the phone after two rings, he took a nervous breath and exhaled his greeting. Hi! It’s me. Claude de Lussan.

Hi, she said, and he could hear her smile through the phone.

There was an awkward pause, and then Claude spoke again. I called to ask how you’ve been.

I’ve been good. You waited a while to call.

Moisture beaded on his forehead and he couldn’t hear her voice over the whooshing of his own heart. He kicked himself.

Yeah, sorry about that. Do you want to go out tonight?

It sounded lame, but