Page 21 of Vanquished By A Viscount
Gray kept his amusement inside as he gripped the bow and stepped up to the line. With a quick peek at Charlie, who stood to the side with his arms crossed and a grim look on his face, he raised the bow, drew it, and fired. His arrow sailed through the air, landing a few inches left of its center. It was not perfect, but at least he’d hit the target, which was more than could be said for Lady Winifred, despite Lord Iverson’s assistance.
No one cheered Gray’s efforts. Lady Eudora had given all her attention to Pettigrew and Pettigrew was glancing around in search of some means of escape. Charlie merely smirked and stepped forward to take the bow from Gray.
“An admirable effort,” he said as if Gray’s effort had been anything but.
Their hands touched briefly during the bow exchange. Gray tried to ignore the zing of warmth that shot up his arm.
“As if you could do better,” he said with a sneer.
Charlie arched one eyebrow at him, then retrieved an arrow from the quiver propped to one side of the line. Gray stepped back to watch him shoot, his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.
As soon as Charlie notched the arrow and raised the bow, the bottom dropped out of his stomach. Charlie took aim with the precision of an expert, and when he fired, his arrow flew the distance to the target and stuck in near the center.
“Oh, very well done, Charlie,” Barbara congratulated him from where she stood toward the center of the area where the would-be archers waited.
Charlie turned to smile at his sister. “It seems I have retained the skills we gained from all those years of archery lessons at Downham Manor,” he told Barbara cheerfully…then sent Gray a smug wink.
Gray bristled. So once again, the game had been set against him before he’d even started. He’d be damned if he let Charlie come out the winner at his expense once more. He refused to be vanquished by a heartless git.
Without waiting to see if Pettigrew or Lady Eudora wished to take another turn—he was nearly certain they would not—Gray marched forward to snatch the bow from Charlie, then stomped over to retrieve another arrow. From there, he set himself at the line, drawing the bow and raising it to take aim.
A flurry of doubt raced through him as he tried to still his hands long enough to accurately aim. He did not have the skill that Charlie evidently had, but what he lacked in practice, he was certain he made up for in determination. He would not let Charlie humiliate him again.
He let the arrow fly and was delightfully surprised when it sank into the target closer to the center than Charlie’s first effort. It was something of a miracle shot, but perhaps it was his day for miracles.
“Luck,” Charlie said, moving up behind him to take the bow from him. “Pure luck.”
“Do you think?” Gray asked, grinning and keeping his grip on the bow.
It was absolutely luck, but if he could unnerve Charlie by making him think he might lose at his own game after all, then he would pretend more confidence than he felt.
Charlie tugged on the bow, his hand touching Gray’s. For a moment, Gray stared into his eyes with a grin, unwilling to hand the bow over. Proverbial sparks flew between them, and despite his earlier efforts at relief, Gray’s trousers felt entirely too tight.
Finally, he let Charlie take the bow. It still felt like a victory of sorts for Gray.
Until Charlie stepped up to the line and with what appeared to be perfect ease fired an arrow that landed exactly in the center of the target.
More than a few of the other guests had watched the shot and applauded. Charlie turned and bowed, which had Gray’s blood boiling. For more than one reason. Damn his eyes for finding that sort of cocky display attractive.
“Well done, brother,” Barbara said, clapping as enthusiastically as the rest. “I think you should most definitely win the prize.”
“Hold on a moment,” Robert laughed by her side. “We’ve only just begun. We should give the others a chance to match Lord Broxbourne’s skill.”
“If they can,” Charlie said quietly, directing his comment specifically to Gray.
The man’s smile was aggravatingly smug. Gray couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand the maelstrom of emotions, anger, longing, desire, and more, that battered him as he stared back at Charlie. He should have returned to the Continent or left for Australia sooner. This intoxicating proximity to Charlie wasalready undoing years’ worth of resolve, and it had only been a day.
“If you will excuse me,” he said, dragging his eyes away from Charlie to nod to Barbara, then turning and walking off.
“Grayson,” Charlie called after him.
Gray ignored him. If they had not been in mixed company, he would have given Charlie a rude gesture as he walked off.
No good was going to come of the two of them being so close for the summer. Gray had the horrible feeling that he was about to have his heart broken all over again.
Seven
For an event held in the middle of summer, Barbara’s house party turned distinctly cold after those first few days. Charlie told himself that he’d meant nothing by the way he’d goaded Grayson during the archery competition. It was just a bit of fun, which was what social occasions in the countryside should have been. Gray had been far too serious and determined to best him. He could not have known how skilled Charlie was with a bow and arrow. The teasing had come naturally.
