Page 41 of The Duke's Hellion

Arrows soared. His was a bullseye, or appeared to be. He looked down the line and caught Mimi’s grin. Then his eyes shot back down to the targets to see where her arrow landed. He thought his arrow had hit dead center, but he could see now that he was wrong.

James’s and Roger’s arrows were close, his closer, but Mimi’s…yes, Sally was confirming it. This round went to Mimi.

Round two had all the archers quiet. They could see the competition for what it was now, and they all grew just a bit more eager to win.

The second arrows all flew a touch faster than the previous round, and each archer’s aim improved. Mimi struck dead center again. The small audience of house guests was murmuring now. Perhaps debunking any suggestions that Mimi’s first shot had been coincidence or luck.

Mimi and Sam both scored a point in the second round. She nodded graciously to him, and he returned one in kind.

It was the last round, there was only a chance that he could even the scores, so the other archers dropped out.

The final flight soared through the air as though floating. Light but intentional.

When his eyes finally focused on his target, he saw his arrow was slightly off center. But he didn’t need to see that to acknowledge his loss. The cheers around Mimi were instantaneous, boisterous, and joyous. They were celebrating her success, and she deserved it.

He couldn’t help the piercing jealousy that invaded his body. Not because she won though. James had run up to her and was swinging her around in the air. Sam chuffed a laugh. They were about to be family, but really, that seemed a bit much. If anyone should be swinging her in the air, it should be him. Sam.

But he couldn’t do it. That expressiveness. That kind of impulsive behavior around women only led to destruction.

Chapter Seventeen

“Congratulations, Mimi.” Sam’swords shifted through her, unsettling in her stomach. Her hands gripped her silly little trophy as she stood before him balancing on her toes and then rocking back on her heels. The cheers had died down and the small crowd had dispersed. They had already taken off to the next activity of the day.

He said he would be happy for her if she beat him in something, and sure enough, the man had a smile on his face. Perhaps a bit tight around the eyes, but he was genuine. She could read him. Somehow the past few days had taught her more about the man than she realized.

He was happy for her. Celebrating her. So why was she disappointed? What did she expect? Forhimto be the one to swing her up and around in his arms? She knew who he was, and that wasn’t him. That wasn’t his style…and really, she did know him. He didn’t want to invest. He didn’t want a future with someone. Why would he let his emotions out of their dark den if he didn’t want the light of a future with her? Did she even want one with him? Of course she did. Who was she trying to deceive?

The duke dare be damned…or actualized…she wanted him. And she would do whatever it took to get him.

“Are you proud of yourself?” Sam was speaking again, filling the silence that she had left unintentionally.

“Yes, thank you,” she answered demurely. When did she ever act timidly like this? But she felt unsure of herself. Or…moreaccurately, she felt unsure of herself around him now. Only because she knew the effect he had on her. She knew the effect she wanted him to have on her. What she didn’t know, was how to get him to want the same thing.

“No thanks necessary.”

“Well, you did let me have the arrow.”

“Any gentleman would do the same thing.”

“Not everyone.” She wanted to tell him the quiver story; it was on the tip of her tongue, but something was holding her back. She steadied her eyes on him, not permitting herself to break the contact. And as she stared, a realization dawned on him.

“The quiver?” His eyes were curious and held some disbelief, so she only nodded. “Your destiny?”

“We both know that nothing about that incident was my destiny, especially not the navy-and-gold quiver.”

She watched as his eyes flickered with recollection. He might have noticed Roger’s quiver. It was the only one of its kind that she had seen before, but she didn’t want to dwell on it.

“I should go—”

“I bet on you,” he interrupted her lackluster attempt to flee.

The phrase came from the skies, clear out of nowhere, befuddling her. “Wh-hat? What do you mean?”

“I thought you would win.” His smile was huge now, covering his entire face, pushing his cheeks back and out of the way.

“Wait. Did you bet on me knowing you would throw the competition? You wouldn’t, would you?” She felt foolish even asking, but she had to know.

The narrowing of his eyes, in frustration and…hurt…was her answer. But instead of lashing out at her, he shook his head. “No. No, I didn’t do that. I would never do that. You should know that by now.” And he said it as though they shared a secret. Thathe knew her and she knew him, and they each appreciated the depth of that knowledge.

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