Page 10 of The Trouble with Tigers
He allowed himself a small smile as the earl’s words brought back a similar memory whereby he, and not Kit, had been the recipient of his grandfather’s tutelage.
Zeke felt considerably lighter of spirit when, a short time later, Kit guided the team onto a narrow gravel drive.
“This old spot? I’d assumed this place had been sold off. Seems a lifetime ago since you and father brought Caden and I here.” The country cottage held good memories, all from before his father’s life imploded.
“I’ll take it from here, m’ boy.” The earl pulled the reins from Kit’s small, gloved hands.
“Allow me.” Zeke took the reins in turn, shaking his head in dismay. Some future groom Kit would make.
“Carry on to the pond,” his grandfather directed.
He led the horses past the faded limestone cottage and down the grass covered hill. When the pond came into view, he slowed, reining in the team under a canopy of hawthorn trees.
He hopped down to aid the earl’s descent. “As I recall, you and Father gave Caden and I our first pistol shooting lessons here.”
From the corner of his eye he saw Kit scramble down the opposite side of the hitch. Good Lord. The boy had his pinkie crooked in the air as if to balance his weight. What an odd bird.
“Exactly what Kit and I have been doing out here these last several weeks.”
This was too much. His voice rose an octave. “You and Kit?”
“Never know when one might need protection.”
Zeke threw up his hands. “Why would Kit need protection?”
“I was referring to myself,” the earl answered. “I prefer my servants trained to defend me.
Plausible. Barely..
The earl’s eyes narrowed in sudden contemplation. Never a good sign.
His grandfather glanced from Zeke to Kit and back to Zeke. “The recoil from the blast is a bit much for my shooting arm. Perhaps today you could instruct the boy?”
Kit’s head jerked up and his frosty green eyes went saucer-round. Apparently Kit didn’t like the idea of taking lessons from him.
Blame it on a perverse sense of humor, but the thought of irritating Kit had a satisfying edge to it.
Kit spoke up for the first time in a long while, his voice at once hoarse and squeaky. “My lord, if your arm troubles you, perhaps we should skip the lesson today altogether. This way you can spend the time visiting. After all your grandson has been so long away.”
Zeke could only stare at the boy.
After a moment passed whereby his grandfather didn’t rebuke the lad, he found his tongue. “Nonsense, lad. Why should a small thing like a family reunion interfere with your shooting lessons? Not that we don’t appreciate your suggestion.”
He hoped Kit's intelligence quotient allowed him to detect the sarcasm he’d infused into every blasted syllable.
He glanced at his grandfather, expecting commiseration. Damned if the old man wasn’t glaring athim. Fine.
“I’m happy to help the boy, my lord.” Zeke fixed Kit with a critical eye. “What have you got so far? Can you hit a target?”
Kit glared at him. “Even a moving one.”
Oh, dear. She hadn’t meant to speak the words aloud. She braced for a through set-down.
Instead Zeke threw his head back and roared with laughter. The earl quickly followed suit.
Her own lips quivered, but she managed to suppress her mirth. Giggling would undermine the accusatory scowl she had aimed at the earl.
What had he been thinking, asking Zeke to instruct her? Sweet, practical, logical Lord Claybourne. His common sense had vaporized the moment his grandson arrived.
