Page 85 of Some Like It Scot
“But how do you get it to go so straight?” Ana whined her question, waving the bow as she spoke. “Mine keep flying off in all directions!”
She fired off an arrow that soared high and far to the right of the target, and no wonder. Her body faced forward instead of sideways, she overdrew the string, and she used a low anchor.
With a few pointers, and after about three tries, her arrow finally struck the far side of the target. “Did you see that?” She spun around, eyes bright, and nearly decapitated me with her bow. “Idid it.”
And then a realization clinked into place in my mind. Was Ana Lennox trying painfully hard just to do something right? Sure, she was immature and silly. Sometimes a bit desperate and dramatic. But were all those things how she grasped for self-worth and approval?
And Lord Wake looked down at her with a little pride on his face—not like an adoring lover, but more like a happy uncle. Had he taken on the responsibility of Ana’s companion so she wouldn’t make even more desperate decisions, since her mother was hyper-focused on the Edwardian Experience and her father so relaxed he was almost horizontal?
“You did!” I nodded. “And I bet you could do it again too.”
“Would you take a video of me, Katie?” Ana’s eyes brightened with her smile. “So I can show my dad?”
My heart softened completely. “Of course I will.”
And she hit the mark again and again, her success continuing to deflate my annoyance.
It wasn’t that I hadn’t dealt with bad publicity before. Having a presence on social media or anywhere online pretty much guaranteed that unless you were Julie Andrews or Jennifer Garner, you weren’t going to make everyone happy.
But the betrayal of a colleague just ruffled my fury feathers in all the wrong ways. And it took another ten to twelve shots with the bow—and a few prayers that only God needed to hear—before I finally felt calm enough to stop.
I shot a few more arrows, lowering my blood pressure to a less volatile level, and then moved to sit in a nearby chair. Miss Dupont tookmy place at the shooting spot with Mr. Logan joining, her much more attentive than usual as he helped guide her in the archery lesson. My gaze shot to Mrs. Lennox, who failed to correct the inappropriateness of their nearness and whispered conversations.
Mark didn’t show up to the lesson.
Coward.
It would have done my heart good to best him at archery.
A shadow fell over me, and I looked up to find my favorite Scot staring down at me. He studied my face and then took the seat next to mine.
“Are you sure it’s okay for the butler to sit during working hours?”
His lips crooked and he relaxed in the chair as if in answer... or as proof he didn’t care what the answer was. My whole body warmed at his closeness and that grin. “You looked fairly scunnered when you came out of the house.”
Scunnered? Must mean annoyed. Or furious. “A wee bit.” I imitated his accent poorly, but it inspired a playfully jutted eyebrow, so I took it as a win. “Mark is jealous and trying to hurt my online reputation by sharing false information.”
I knew it would blow over. It still stung though.
Without hesitation, the butler pulled his phone from his jacket pocket. Within ten seconds, a low growl rose from his throat.
A sound I felt in my chest... and shoulders. All the way to my less attractive kneecaps. Heavens.
“Where is he?” Graeme sat up, ready for the attack.
I stopped him with a hand to his nearest tree-trunk size arm. Number one, how was it possible to feel his muscles beneath a butler’s jacket? Number two, Graeme could squish poor Mark to jelly with one foot. Maybe one look. “Don’t waste your time on the Great Disappointment. Once Lennox finds out, he’ll likely be kicked off the island anyway, unless he can do some major groveling.”
Though the idea of someone coming to the defense of my reputation left a soft and wonderful mark right in the center of my chest. In fact, I almost got a little teary-eyed.
Why?
Because my emotions were all over the place. That had to be it.
“It’s not the first or last time I’ll have to do damage control for online slander.” I shrugged. “The way of the cyberworld, I’m afraid. “
He relaxed. “Does it bother you?”
“Sometimes.” I leaned back in the chair. “I think it might bother my mom more though. Image is a big deal to her.” I blinked. Had I just said that out loud? I rarely talked about my mom to people, especially anything that could be perceived as dirty laundry. “But it will pass. I know my boss would love for me to make some posts or write an article to counteract or distract from it, if possible, so I’ll think of something. I’ve had a lot of questions about how these gowns hold up on long walks, so I may try that.”
