Page 15 of Kilted Abduction
“Aye,” everybody said in unison.
“All right then, ye may fire at will,” he finished then stepped out of the way.
“Hey, lassie,” the man on her left said. “Let me show ye how it’s done.”
“Are ye ready for a lesson?” said the man on her right.
“Aye,” Ciara replied. “Teach me.”
The men on either side of her nocked arrows and released them in one fluid motion. The man on the left hit the target in the lower stomach while the man on her right planted an arrow in the target’s arm. Ciara bit back the laugh that bubbled up in her throat.
“’Tis me turn,” Ciara said.
She drew her arrow and let out a breath. The men around her hooted and hollered, doing everything they could to distract her. But Ciara shut it all out and narrowed her vision to just the target, just as she’d been taught, then loosed her arrow. It hit the target with a satisfying thump and she smiled as the feathered shaft quivered, directly in the heart of the man-shaped outline on the hay bale. She turned to the men with a smirk upon her lips.
“Aye. Thank ye both fer the lesson,” she said. “Ye’re excellent teachers.”
The two men exchanged a look of surprise with each other, then harumphed as they set themselves up for another shot. None of the other men competing came close to the heart of the target and two missed the hay bales entirely. It was almost too easy. The second shots fired by everybody mirrored the first, though the man on her right nearly hit the heart, his arrow protrudingjust below it. And for the second time, Ciara buried her arrow straight into the heart.
“What the bleedin’ hell is goin’ on here?” as the man on her right. “How in the world are ye doin’ that? That’s two fer two.”
“She must bae cheatin’ somehow,” grumbled the man on her left.
“I’d like ye tae show me how I’m cheatin’ then,” Ciara challenged.
“All right everybody,” called the man running the contest. “Third shots now. Nock and loose.”
Ciara nocked her arrow and drew, focusing on the target and exhaling a long, steadying breath then loosed. The arrow whistled through the air and thumped hard into the hay bale, striking the outline of the man alongside the other two arrows in the heart. Nobody else came close. The men in the firing line all turned and looked at her with expression of shock and amazement—and more than a bit of consternation—on their faces.
“Wow. That was unexpected,” said the game runner. “Very unexpected.”
Slowly though, as the reality that she’d beat all six challengers settled in, laughter and applause exploded from the crowd that had gathered to watch. The game runner handed Ciara the small leather purse and she bounced it in her hand, grinning at the softclink of the coins inside. Most of the men congratulated Ciara on her victory, but the man to her left continued to insist she cheated somehow then walked off grumbling to herself. The man to her right though offered her a smile.
“Dinnae mind him. He’s always sour and grumpy about somethin’,” he said. “Well done, lass. Ye’ve got some skill with the bow.”
“Thank ye. I was fortunate enough tae have a good teacher.”
He looked at her closely for a long moment. “Nae many lasses have a teacher. Ye the daughter of a laird or somethin’?”
Fear surged through her veins like electricity. She’d said too much. The man looked at her curiously, as if she was some strange species of animal that he wasn’t quite sure what to do with. It scared her. She didn’t want anybody knowing who she was for obvious reasons.
“Or somethin’,” she said.
“Well, good job,” he said. “Are ye goin’ tae try yer hand again?”
“I dunno. Maybe.”
“Well, if I see ye on the lanes again, I’m goin’ tae bow out. I’m nae keen on throwin’ me coppers away like that,” he said with a laugh. “And dinnae expect tae sneak up on anybody next time.”
He patted her on the shoulder as he walked away, an amused grin on his face. Feeling better about it all, Ciara hefted the purse in the palm of her hand again. In just minutes, she’d made enough to get herself a warm bath, soft bed, and hot meal. Not bad for a day’s work.
As she turned to go in search of a reputable inn, though, she stopped as the blood in her veins turned to ice. She swallowed hard as fear battered her insides. The man with the coal-colored hair and icy blue eyes stood amongst the crowd, his gaze locked onto hers.
“Maybe I wasnae paranoid enough,” she whispered to herself.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Magnus, having just witnessed the golden-haired woman beat every man in the contest with ease, was certain he’d found his quarry. Kai stepped up beside him, a large roasted turkey leg in one hand, a mug of ale in the other, and a smirk upon his lips.
