Dead center.
He nearly grinned as he turned to Lady Felicity.
Her gaze fell to his mouth, and her lips twitched. Like she knew he was fighting back a smile.
She cocked her head and rested her hand on her hip. “A tie this round. But I wouldn’t become overconfident, Your Grace. You’re going to have to do that twice more if you want to keep pace with me.”
He lifted the back of his hand to cover the small smile he could no longer hold back. “Your boasts are impressive, my lady.”
Her eyes danced, quite clearly sayingI’ve caught you.
There was something about her teasing, the gold flecks glinting in her warm amber eyes, the way the right side of her smile curved up the tiniest bit more than the left, that sent his heart rate skittering like marbles dropped on a tile floor. It shouldn’t be possible on a rare cloudless day in England. But this woman shone brighter than the sun.
God help him, but those eyes might be right. She had caught him.
She lined up for her second shot and glanced at him from the corner of her eye. And winked. “Not as impressive as my pistol skills.”
She pulled the trigger and—another bullseye.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered, lining up for his own shot.
“Why thank you, Your Grace. I quite think I’m unbelievable, too.”
He let out a snort of laughter and then zoned in on his target. He drowned out all noise and distraction. Fired.
Close, but not a bullseye.
He turned to catch his daughter skipping around Lady Felicity. “One more, one more, one mooore!” she sang.
Lady Felicity spun in a circle, following Pandora’s bounding form, clapping in rhythm with the girl’s chants. Their revelry, his daughter’s chants, and Lady Felicity’s laughter, shouldn’t be calming, shouldn’t be soothing, but watching the pair eased something deep inside him. A shift. A settling.
He cleared his throat, gaining the ladies’ attention. “Your shot, my lady. Bullseye and you win.”
Her shot cracked through the air, and he leaned forward, gaze glued to the target. One ring outside the bullseye. Still an excellent shot for a novice. But not a winning shot.
He glanced at her and bit his cheek to hold back his laugh. One hand was on her hip, and she glared at the target like she could shoot it with her eyes. The most adorable pout adorned her lips. God, those lips.
Not yours.
“Pistol,” he ordered, palm out, and a servant immediately handed it to him. Her shot had landed wider than his last one. All he needed to do was hit the bullseye and the match was his. He would win and then he could gain a reprieve from her presence.
He stretched his neck from side to side until he felt that satisfying crack. He let a slow breath as he brought his arms up, aligning with target.
He fired.
“Fuck,” he said on a groan. Fortunately, his curse was drowned out by his daughter’s loud cheer. Just outside.
“You won, you won, you woooon!” Pandora grabbed Lady Felicity’s hands, and they twirled in a circle, hopping and laughing.
A grin split Ash’s face, a low chuckle rumbling through his chest as he took in the spirited pair.
Lady Felicity tugged Pandora to her and enveloped the girl in a tight hug.
His daughter looked up at Lady Felicity, nothing short of worship lighting up her youthful face. “Congratulations, Felicity. That was deuced impressive.”
That it was.
Lady Felicity turned toward Ash, her face alight with an ear-to-ear smile. Their gazes collided, and her lips faltered. Her stare dipped, locked onto his grin. Her lips parted softly, and as far away as he was, he swore he heard that small intake of breath.
