Page 46 of Bride of the Wicked Laird
The air rushed out of her lungs and she froze at the thought of his lips on hers. Why, in the name of all that was holy, did her thoughts leap from kissing to that glimpse of his beautiful naked chest? Furthermore, now that the word ‘kiss’ had been mentioned, why could she not put out of her head the thought of them coming together, of her hands slipping over that warm flesh she’d glimpsed that was so enticing. Oh, the sinful joy of tweaking his nipples and toying with the smattering of those short black hairs? Or even, what it might feel like against her own nakedness?
Such wicked but delicious thoughts.
Everard cleared his throat. “Have ye changed yer mind Mistress Davina? Daes the thought of me taking me prize make ye afraid?”
“Why… nay… nae at all,” she stammered guiltily, striving to discard her vision of their kissing. “I’ve nay fear at all, me laird.” She met his steady gaze. “Fer I will win the contest and take yer purse.”
He nodded, “Of course ye will. And I shall be happy tae give ye the purse.” He paced toward the target and made a mark in the grass with his foot. “This is the mark where we’ll stand tae shoot our arrows.”
He proffered the bow. It was made of stout yew and was elegantly shaped and formed. She took it in her hand, weighing it. “’Tis heavier than I am used tae, but I see it is well-balanced and will fire the arrows with great accuracy.”
“Aye. ‘Tis mine since boyhood. Good fer hunting but nae fer warfare. Fer that I keep the longbow.”
She took this in, nodding slowly. Yes. There were different bows for different purposes. Was this knowledge she’d forgotten? It had a familiar ring to it, causing her to think that in some time in her past she’d been among warriors.
He took one of the wooden arrows from the quiver and handed it to her. “D’ye need me tae assist ye in nocking it?”
“Nay, me laird. I can dae it meself.”
Her hands were shaking slightly as she again gauged the weight of the bow and the tautness of the string. She nocked the arrowinto place and drew back the drawstring, focusing her eyes on the target, striving to tame her trembling hands. She lowered the bow, taking in a deep breath and exhaling slowly.
“Are ye all right, Davina?”
“Aye. I am sorry, I need a moment tae gather meself.”
He nodded. “Would it make it easier fer ye if I were tae have the first shot.”
“Mayhap that would help me tae settle.” She handed over the bow and arrow, breathing a series of steadying breaths in and out.
Everard took up the bow lightly and nocked the arrow with scarcely a pause. Squinting at the target, he drew back the string and let the arrow fly. It landed with a satisfying ‘thunk’ on the outer edge of the innermost circle, close - but not quite on - the bullseye.
She took her turn, still not as settled as she wished to be. And, as he’d half-expected, her arrow landed just outside the mark where Everard’s had hit.
“Dinnae fash, Mistress Davina. Ye’ve still got four more attempts.” There was a certain smugness in his tone that immediately aroused her determination, overcoming the slight tremble that still remained.
She would show him she was no dithering convent weakling, but someone with the heart and soul of a hunter. Or even a warrior.
Stepping up to the mark she inhaled a deep breath and held it while she nocked the arrow and raised the bow. With her eyes focused resolutely on the bullseye, she counted to three in her mind and exhaled her breath as she let the arrow loose.
This time, it flew sharp and keen to the very center of the inner circle.
She handed the bow to Everard and stood aside while he took his turn. His arrow flew straight, landing slightly closer to the bullseye than his first attempt.
He handed the bow back to her and took another arrow from the quiver. “Here lass. Dae yer best tae reach the bullseye again.”
Was that a mocking smile? Did he think her first attempt was only down to good luck?
She took up the bow and nocked the arrow, even more determined than she’d been with her first effort.
This time her arrow landed beside the first, and she turned to him with a grin of triumph.
Let him try and better that.
His third arrow struck the target only a hair’s breadth from where her second arrow had lodged. He nodded as he passed the bow and took another arrow from the quiver to hand to her.
“Methinks we are well-matched, Davina.”
When she looked up and caught his gaze she wondered at his meaning.
