Both Colonel Archer and Captain Ross whooped with joy.
Even the younger ladies bounced and cheered as the wooden bridge trembled.
The men walked back toward the targets, Gray limping slightly—the only sign of his feelings over being summarily beaten by a Balfour.
Unsurprisingly, the younger ladies swarmed after the gentlemen. The grooms rushed forward with the shot paper targets, and the gentlemen and ladies gathered round to examine them.
Isla followed more slowly, trying to gather her feelings into some coherent whole. On the one hand, admiration and astonishment stuffed her thoughts to stupefaction. On the other hand, she felt vastly . . . betrayed. Or was it lost? Because even seven years ago, she hadn’t known the full breadth of Tavish Balfour.
It didn’t help that she could hear Miss Crowley mooning over Captain Balfour’s shots even from a distance. They could probably hear her in the next county.
“I’m telling you, it is not a fluke,” Colonel Archer was saying as Isla stopped behind the group. “Balfour always shoots like this. Years! I have endured years of being bested in this manner. An honest gentleman knows when to raise the white flag of surrender and simply admit his admiration.”
Gray folded his arms, lips pressed tightly. He was trying to remain aloof and unaffected—a good sport and all that. But the clench of his fist betrayed him.
For his part, Captain Balfour pointedly ignored Gray. Too pointedly.
Colonel Archer, bless his pure soul, did not catch on to the undercurrents.
“Balfour, are you up for one more challenge?” he asked.
“Of course.” Captain Balfour rested the barrel of his rifle on his shoulder.
With a wink for the ladies, Colonel Archer pulled a playing card from his jacket pocket.
Miss Crowley gasped. “You’re not going to hold it as a target, are you, Colonel?”
“Nae,” Captain Balfour spoke up. “He won’t.”
“I won’t?” Colonel Archer lifted an eyebrow.
“Nae. If I must shoot playing cards, place them on the posts.” He waved to the targets. “No need to tempt Fate today.”
“Afraid you’ll miss, Balfour? Harm your friend?” Gray said, his tone biting.
Captain Balfour shrugged. “Not particularly. But given the distance I intend to shoot from, the slightest change in the wind could mean the difference between life and death.” He leveled a cool gaze on Gray. “And a competent soldier doesn’t permit ego to obscure the value of another soul. Accidents happen. And I don’t want one of my good friends to be the victim.”
Silence for a moment.
“Well spoken, Balfour,” Lord Milmouth said. “I know your cool thinking saved Edward’s life many times over. You will forever have our admiration and thanks.”
Captain Balfour tilted his head toward his lordship before looking at Colonel Archer.
“Place three cards on the post at random and stand back from the target.” Captain Balfour’s eyes flicked to Isla before sliding to the rest of the women. “You ladies should likely go resume your perch. No accidents, remember?”
And with that, he turned his back and began walking toward the shooting lines. Miss Crowley shivered and then skipped several steps to catch up with him, walking at his side, chattering loudly.
Isla followed the rest of the ladies down the lawn and up the steps of the bridge, Miss Crowley reluctantly leaving Captain Balfour’s side.
Isla turned to watch Captain Balfour continue walking away from the target. He paused at the two hundred and fifty marker, assessed thewind with a finger in the air, and then continued to walk away from the target with deliberate steps.
Even standing on tiptoe, Isla struggled to see him. She walked backward up the steep bridge, trying to keep Captain Balfour in view. The ladies followed her. The sloping arch of the bridge, along with the accumulation of moss, made the wood planks somewhat slippery. But a firm hand on the railing grounded Isla.
Captain Balfour paced another fifty yards.
Isla knew because she counted them.
Three hundred yards from the target.
