Page 33 of A Most Unsuitable Lover
“Indeed?”
“Like you, I didn’t care much for the killing, though I became quite adept at catching small game for supper.”
“That’s because you’re a healer and a provider.”
Ian turned to Juliette, but her face gave no hint of the depth of the words she’d just spoken—as if she hadn’t just touched a deep, guarded part of his soul. He swallowed past the burgeoning lump in his throat and returned his attention to the competition in time to watch Mr. Finchley’s arrow soar five feet above the top of the target.
“Your go, McCullom.” The baron offered the bow to Ian.
“I fear my skills will be sorely lacking,” Ian said with a self-deprecating chuckle.
“I would be glad to give you a quick lesson, Dr. McCullom.” Was it Ian’s imagination, or had Juliette shot a very pointed glance in Lady Morton’s direction?
No. Ian had been correct.
The duchess caught the earl’s attention with a delicate hand. “Your aim is rather impressive, Lord Hopesend. Might I trouble you for a lesson as well?” Juliette’s brother could not decline, nor did he seem to want to when faced with the beautiful duchess’s charms. In fact, she was almost too adept at garnering male attention, because every man in attendance quickly sought to provide his tips and assistance with her lesson. It was a remarkable trick, Ian had to admit that much.
Juliette cleared her throat and gestured for him to follow her to the first distance marker. With nearly everyone else distracted, Juliette and Ian were left fairly alone.
“You are quite a bit larger than I, so the bigger bow will be better suited to you.” Ian’s hand tingled when her bare palm grazed his in the transfer. He nearly shivered when she traced his palm and showed him how to position his fingers on the string. “You must be at once firm and flexible.”
“That does not make sense.”
“Of course it does. One must strive to be both firm and flexible in all situations.”
“Allsituations?” Ian asked beneath his breath, thrilled by the subtle reaction he earned from her.
She cleared her throat daintily before replying. “Yes. All situations. Now, let me show you the proper stance.”
Ian immediately moved to imitate the position in which he’d seen Juliette and the others stand, but her light little laugh was proof that he was severely lacking in his mimicry.
“Here. Like this.” Juliette stood behind Ian and used her foot to nudge his feet further apart. An involuntary groan rose in his throat when she gripped his hips in her small hands and turned his pelvis. The blasted lass knew precisely what she did when she ran her fingernails up his sides and she pressed her breasts to his back. Thankfully, the rest of the guests were behind where they stood, so it appeared to them, for the most part, that Juliette was providing innocent guidance to him. There was, however, anything but innocence in the way she stroked his clenching abdomen and caused his breath to hiss through his teeth.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Juliette,” Ian gritted out through his teeth.
“Of course.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “Archery can be quite dangerous.” She was being purposefully obtuse and it drove Ian mad with frustration and need. He wanted to reverse their roles; he longed to hold her back to his front with her curves nestled against him; he wanted to fit himself against the round curves of her bottom and—
“Now, practice pulling back the string. That’s it.” One of her hands braced his stationary shoulder while the other cupped his moving bicep, very clearly enjoying the play of muscle beneath the fabric of his coat. “And when you release, allow it to happen.” She couldn’t possibly be alluding to— “A proper release can be the most satisfying thing in the world.”
Ian turned his eyes to Juliette but continued facing the target. “Where has this minx come from?” he growled from low in his chest.
“She’s been here all along,” Juliette said, gently correcting the height of the bow he held. “No one else saw her before.” The last was added in a whisper, something so soft and delicate Ian might have believed it as intangible as a dream.
He saw her.
All of her.
Ian witnessed the brilliant woman with a passion for foreign tongues. He saw her sense of humor and her easy smile. He saw her shy side and her sensual side. Her mischievous side and her sweet side.
And he wanted all of it. Ian wanted all of her.
He’d been irredeemably ignorant believing he could walk away from this arrangement unscathed. He’d known it from the first time he’d looked into Juliette’s eyes on that London street that she would be his undoing.
“Feel the wind,” Juliette said in a smooth return to his archery lesson…as if she hadn’t shaken his world like an earthquake of extraordinary magnitude. “You will need to adjust your aim as it will carry your arrow.
Ian could sympathize with the arrow. He’d been carried off to places unknown just as helplessly as if he were a bit of stick and feather at the mercy of nature.
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