Page 23 of The Scoundrel's Christmas Challenge
“Excellent. I’m quite proficient with a bow,” said Lucius from the doorway.
Christiana’s heart jumped at the sound of his voice. She waited while he filled a plate and joined them. Her mind went back to the night before. Kisses at midnight were becoming part of her nightly ritual. How would she feel when he left? Would she miss their rendezvous? Return to the cynical woman she’d become?
“That color brings out the blush of your cheeks,” he said softly as he walked by.
“Thank you, Lord Page,” she murmured, the wings in her stomach taking flight as she looked down at her pale-rose day dress. Delicate white lace trimmed the muslin collar and cuffs. “Did you go out this morning?”
He nodded. “I like starting the day with a ride. Gets my blood moving, lets my brain wake up slowly with the rising sun.”
“You make a frigid hour on horseback sound poetic,” said Lady Elwood with a laugh. “I hope the archery contest is nearby.”
“She looked like a giant onion peeling off all those layers,” added her husband.
“Elwood, mind your tongue!” his wife scolded, her round face turning pink.
Christiana bit her lip, trying not to grin at the married couple’s teasing. “No, it will be on the back lawn. If you prefer, ma’am, you could watch from inside.”
“Wonderful,” agreed Lady Elwood. “My husband is known for his skill in the hunt. A target should be no trouble at all, eh, my lord?” She popped her elbow in the man’s side.
“This is the day I gain a point.” Lord Elwood clapped his hands and stood, his dark-brown eyes shining with anticipation. “I shall send for my own bow right away.”
***
The group gathered on the lawn, their breath shimmering in the frosty air. It was a quiet afternoon, their boots crunching on the snow as they walked toward the target. The green boughs around them bent with a layer of white. The men wore heavy greatcoats, and Christiana had on her long, deep-blue spencer rather than the cumbersome cloak of yesterday. Her fur muff had been replaced with leather gloves.
Lord Frederick was sullen, as usual, complaining he was better at fencing. “You are setting me up to fail,” he accused Christiana.
“How could she possibly know you were coming in your father’s stead? And even if she did, how would she know your strengths and weaknesses?” asked Lord Page, a frown marring his handsome face. “Stop making excuses for your incompetence.”
Christiana glanced over her shoulder to see Lady Elwood waving enthusiastically from the window. She was becoming fast friends with the older woman. It wasn’t only the maternal side of the viscountess that drew Christiana, but the woman’s forthright attitude. She had no difficulty stating her mind, and Christiana found she trusted Lady Elwood. Something which rarely happened so quickly.
The men chose their bows, nocking arrows to the string and testing the resistance. Lord Elwood beamed, as if he already knew the outcome. This wasn’t Christiana’s favorite activity, but she had passable skill. By the way Lord Frederick was holding his bow, she knew she could beat him.
“I shall begin,” she said, taking her place on the mark and sucking a chilly breath. She nocked her arrow and pulled back, feeling the balance before letting loose.
Whoosh! Not center, but along the edge. Better than she had hoped for. The men clapped, and she took a bow. “Lord Page? Would you like to go next?”
He nodded, focusing his emerald-green eyes on the target. Whoosh. His arrow landed in the center circle but close to her own. Lucius peered over his shoulder and winked at her. Was he losing on purpose? No, she decided, he was too competitive and wanted to defeat the duke’s son.
“Good shot,” said Lord Bentson, squinting his eyes at the target.
“Lord Frederick?” She noted the man was still pouting as he trudged to the mark, like a little boy being dragged for a bath. When his arrow landed far from the center, she understood his reluctance. Was the man good at anything but complaining?
“I hate this game,” he mumbled, shoulders drooping. “I call for a drinking game.”
“I’ll go next,” announced Lord Elwood. His grin fell away as he nocked his arrow, concentrated on the wafer, and let loose. Whoosh. Almost dead center. “That’s the way it’s done!”
“Very impressive, sir,” said Lucius. “This may indeed be your day. Lord Bentson, I believe it’s your turn.”
The elderly man gave a nod and walked to the mark. “It’s been a while since I’ve done this, but in my day…” His bent fingers nocked the arrow, and he lifted the bow, aiming at the target. Whoosh. The arrow hit dead center, quivering against Lord Elwood’s.
Silence reigned while every mouth fell open except for Bentson.
“My lord, well done!” said Lord Page, finding his voice first.
“It’s a fluke. I say we go another round,” huffed Lord Elwood. “I won’t be beaten by an old man.”
Lord Bentson chuckled. “I’m game if the rest of you are.”
