Page 33 of Taming Ivy
“Bloody hell.” The curse whistled out before he could bite it back.
“Careful, Ravenswood,” Bentley laughed as Sebastian stalked away. “She is armed, after all.”
Even before Sebastian appeared on the hillcrest, with that fierce expression on his stern face, Ivy knew he had arrived. Maybe it was a change in the wind or the way the back of her neck prickled, the hair standing on end. An electric charge, like that the air carried just before a summer thunderstorm, rolled through her and she just knew.
He’s here.
Conflicting emotions swelled in her heart as Sebastian stalked down the hill, the breeze playfully tossing his raven-dark hair about. She wanted to run to him. Throw herself into his arms and beg him to never let her go. She wanted him to kiss her. Hear him say he missed her. And she wanted to strike him until his handsome face turned red from the heat of her palms. He should know he meant nothing to her and she did not care if she ever saw him again.
She did none of these things. When she threw Sara a helpless glance, she mouthed back a clear directive,“Ignore him!”
Swallowing her heart, which was for some reason lodged in her throat, Ivy did just that. She allowed Kessler to position her fingers on the bowstring, his instructions a meaningless drone in her ears. She could not even see the target. It blurred in her vision as all senses tuned to Sebastian. Alan greeted him, the two men walking some distance away for a low, murmured conversation. When Lord Kessler situated her for the second shot, she became vaguely aware of his hand applying a light but steady pressure just above the curvature of her hip.
Sebastian is coming.The air positively vibrated with waves of possession. Ivy fumed. Did he think he could reappear and his absence be forgiven? There wasn’t even a note explaining where he’d gone. It was only because of a conversation overheard between two women, former mistresses no doubt, that she learned he’d gone to visit a number of his estates before traveling to Scotland, of all places.Scotland.
The earl’s low growl held the power to freeze a lion in mid-pounce.
“Step away, Kessler.”
Scotland. I was forgotten in favor of the desolate barrenness of Scotland.Ivy swung about, the arrow leveled at Sebastian’s heart.
Kessler, a red flush staining the round cheeks up to the tips of his ears, scrambled a good ten feet away from her backside as a collective gasp swept the crowd. With a litany of choked curses, two gentlemen landed flat on the ground. Others simply knelt low enough to stay beneath the arrow’s range.
“Your assistance is not required, Lord Ravenswood.” She held Sebastian squarely in the bow’s sights.
An agonizingly long moment passed. Realizing their souls were safe, the two men hoisted themselves from the lawn. Sweeping bits of grass and dirt from their breeches with brisk slaps, they ignored ladies tittering behind upraised hands and tilted parasols.
“For God’s sake, woman,” Sebastian hissed, immobilized by Ivy’s unblinking gaze and steady aim. “Must I be sacrificed as a demonstration of your inexperience?”
Pinning him with a steely glare for a brief second, Ivy suddenly whirled, prompting another flinching wave to ripple through the crowd. The same two gentlemen, plus three more, dropped like stones.
With the barest of consideration, the arrow flew.
No one saw Ivy’s satisfied smile when the weapon hit dead center of the distant target with a satisfying thump. Sara’s muffled snort of amusement filled the astounded silence.
“I say,” Kessler said hesitantly. “I’m a far better tutor than I thought!”
Ivy lowered the bow. Everyone commenced to chattering all at once. The five men, rising to their feet, sheepishly chuckled amongst themselves. Alan, with an exasperated glance at Sebastian, brushed past to take Sara’s bow.
“Lady Sara, would you accompany me for a stroll around the lake? I’m sure your delicate hands need a respite and I, for one, would enjoy the exercise.” His joviality sounded forced when he turned to Ivy and Sebastian, now glaring at one another with enough heat to set the surrounding trees ablaze. “Lady Ivy? Will you join us? For propriety’s sake, of course.”
“An excellent idea!” Kessler exclaimed as Ivy silently ripped off the gloves protecting her fingertips. “I’m happy to escort you, Lady Kinley-”
“Like hell you will,” Sebastian snarled. Shoving past the man, he reached Ivy in two strides, yanking bow and gloves from her to toss them aside. She gasped at his rudeness while Kessler shot back as though scalded by hot water. Ravenswood’s open hostility froze the young man with uncertainty.
Not averse to digging heels into the gravel should her protection be required, Sara gave Ivy a wink and cheerfully stated, “It’s a foolish man that underestimates Lady Ivy Kinley, Lord Ravenswood. She’s full of surprises. Why, just last year…”
Sebastian and Alan exchanged glances, a subtle, mutual nod passing between them. Then Alan tugged Sara toward the distant lake, cutting off whatever else she might have said.
Three young women surrounded Kessler, insisting on gathering up the discarded items for him. Their conversation quickly turned to requests for tutorage in archery. Watching for a second, Ivy went to join them but found her arm within Sebastian’s unyielding grasp. When she tried to struggle free, he gave her an invisible, warning jerk and turned her toward the path.
Sara threw a distressed glance over her shoulder while Alan inexorably marched her at a quick clip until they were several paces ahead. In contrast, Sebastian walked slower than a snail as they followed behind. Not one of the guests seemed inclined to rescue either girl. Even Lady Burkestone, after a considering frown, turned back to the cakes and lemonade table set up in the shade of a huge oak tree. The banter of those at the archery targets faded as the gravel walkway bent and thick trees concealed them from view. Alan and Sara moved so far ahead it was assured all conversations would remain private.
“You had no need of Kessler’s tutelage.” Sebastian sounded abnormally calm.
Ivy shrugged. “I’ve had instruction since the age of five.”
He looked as if he might grind his teeth to dust. “Why the charade? Do you enjoy tempting him?”
