Page 111 of Bride of Fire
Young William stepped forward in his defense. “Laird Morgan isn’t afraid of anythin’. Isn’t that right, m’laird?”
Morgan’s eyes narrowed, and his jaw ticked. He was trapped now. And he knew it.
“Very well. I’ll shoot against ye,” he said. “But only on one condition. If I win, your bow belongs to me.”
Feiyan crowed with glee.
Jenefer shrugged. “Fine.”
He stabbed his claymore into the ground and gestured to William. “Lend me your bow?”
Jenefer lifted her brows. “Don’t you want your own weapon?”
William’s bow was far too small and light for him. Unless he tempered his strength, he risked breaking it.
“’Twon’t be necessary,” he boasted, taking the bow and three arrows that William offered.
“You’re sure?”
He answered her with a smug grin as he stabbed his three arrows into the ground. Then he indicated with a magnanimous sweep of his hand that she should shoot first.
She looked forward to wiping that grin off his face.
William quickly removed the arrows still stuck in the target and stood back to watch.
Jenefer gave Morgan a smoky smile as she slowly drew an arrow from her quiver. Then, just to unsettle him, she didn’t bother turning toward the target. Fitting the arrow to her bow, she waited until the last moment, and in one continuous movement, swung around, drew, and released it.
It struck the target dead center.
Chapter 50
It might have been a lucky shot. But Morgan didn’t think so.
To say he was impressed by Jenefer’s skill was an understatement. His jaw dropped. He blinked in disbelief. And when he met her self-satisfied gaze, he was forced to see her with new eyes.
Bethac hadn’t exaggerated. Jeneferwasas skilled as Flidhais. She was better than any of his men. Her shooting was smooth. Effortless. And deadly accurate.
Defeating her would be more of a challenge than he’d expected.
But he wasn’t exactly a novice himself.
Bethac cheered from the window.
He gave her a withering glare. “Whose side are ye on, old woman?”
Her eyes twinkled, but she refused to reply.
Jenefer made an exaggerated sweep of her arm. “Your turn.”
He nodded and flexed the light bow a few times. The weapon wasn’t nearly as powerful as his own. If he drew it too forcefully, the ash would crack. But shooting at this distance didn’t require power, only aim.
He plucked an arrow from the earth. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jenefer watching him.
Her longbow rested casually against her shoulder. Her arms were crossed in swaggering self-assurance. But it was her complacent yawn that pushed him over the edge and made him decide to provoke her.
“Ye know, the claymore is my weapon o’ choice,” he admitted. “I’m no archer.”
She crinkled her eyes at him. “Do you wish to forfeit the match then?”
