Page 18 of Heart of Snow
I hesitated, not certain what he wanted.
“The bow,” he clarified, pulling the tip of it toward him until I’d released it.
He would only demonstrate. There went any chance of creating a romantic setting. I hoped my shoulders didn’t visibly sag.
Friedrich stepped to the shooting line, lifting my bow with fluid familiarity. “You see, when I pull the string back, I set my forefinger against my lip just here.” His finger called my attention to his face, to the dusting of freckles across his nose and cheekbones. The features of both boy and man, both soft and stern, made for a beautiful contradiction. I had always known Friedrich to be handsome, but standing this close, I found him positively striking. “Every time I draw, I pull the string back to this same spot. My elbow is tucked behind the arrow, not flailing out to the side. Notice the rotation of my shoulder down and back.”
I did notice. With his shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows, I caught myself staring at the sinews of his arms, stretched taut beneath his bronzed skin. Gracious, where was my head today? Was it his proficiency with a bow that had me gaping? His mastery was evident, even to one as inexperienced as I.
“My feet point away from the target, and I’ve lined them up with the width of my shoulders. Now that I’m bearing the weight of the draw in my back, I can take the time to look down the arrow’s shaft, put the point on the target...”
His gray eyes narrowed, and his jaw tightened as he took a moment to shore up his aim. He was focused, his entire body tensing, storing up the energy he was about to let free.
“Deep breath.” He pulled his shoulders back and pushed out his chest. “And release.”
The thunk of the arrow hitting its target awoke me from my schoolgirl swooning, and I turned downfield to see the arrow buried deep in the flesh of the tree. When I glanced back to him, he was watching me with a boyish grin of self-satisfaction. Theendearing smile sent a pleasant fluttering through my stomach, but I responded by rolling my eyes and grabbing for the bow to take another turn. My hand landed on his, though I hadn’t time to realize it before he was ripping his hand away, sending the bow clattering to the dirt between us.
Friedrich murmured an apology as we both bent to pick it up, but he was careful to keep his hands from mine, pinching the far edge of the bow and dangling the other end toward me as though it was something foul.
“I hope that helps,” he muttered, then stalked to his tree, resting his forearms atop his knees and choking the life from his cap without glancing back at me.
I studied him, wondering what had just passed. Was he intentionally avoiding my touch? He certainly hadn’t minded Ilsa’s nearness the other day. I’d seen them laughing in the courtyard, her hand resting on his arm in a way that made my veins itch.
“Friedrich, have I—” Was I really ready to ask this? His eyes lifted, eliminating the possibility of retreat. I swallowed and plowed forward. “Have I offended you in some way?”
He raised his brows.
“It’s just, you seem eager to keep your distance from me. I had thought it a personal trait of yours, being removed and reserved on the whole, but you and Ilsa...” I felt as foolish as I ought. How was I to finish such a statement?
Friedrich leaned forward. “Have you been watching us?”
“Notwatchingyou, no, but I did see you together as I passed by a window the other day.” Heat crawled up my cheeks. Why did his lips curve into a smirk just then?
“You aren’t jealous, are you?”
I scoffed and turned my flushed face back to the target. “That’s absurd.”
“Is it? Then why be angry that I spoke with Ilsa?”
“I’m not angry.” The way my voice rose did not support my claims. “I’m merely trying to understand. You are quiet, often cold with me. You shrink back if I ever happen to touch you. Sometimes I sense something like contempt, but why?”
I turned to find him looking at the ground, rubbing his neck with his hand, but he did not answer.
“My family has done so much for you. I should think—”
“Oh yes.” His eyes flashed at me. “They’ve done so much for me.”
“You would deny it?” This time I was angry, but I managed to keep my voice even. “My father could have hanged you for your poaching, but he let you live. He had no obligation to take you into his house, to care for you when you were ill, or to provide you with an income.”
Friedrich was back to strangling his cap. “Your father doesn’t care for anyone but himself,” he said, his voice a low threat. “Don’t delude yourself into thinking his help to me was out of any kindness in his heart.”
I reared back, blood thrumming in my ears. “How dare you. Explain yourself!”
He searched my eyes, his jaw clenched and his breath coming fast, but he said nothing.
“You insult my father, then refuse to justify it? Coward.” I threw the bow in the dirt, called for Belinda to follow, then stormed away.
Chapter 9
