He didn’t know why he said that last part—except it was the truth.
Itwasa long time ago.
More than ten years…fifteen?
Long enough for him to have been an entirely different person.
Imogen positioned herself at the line and fitted nock to string. Her body perpendicular to the target some fifty yards distant, she gracefully bent the bow, only an instant’s hesitation to confirm her aim, then released her fingers. The arrow buried itself confidently in the center of the target, as if it had been an inevitability.
Dev couldn’t begrudge Imogen the smugness of the smirk she turned on him. “Match that,” she said.
She truly loved winning. She was at her most beautiful when she won.
It had been why, ten or fifteen years ago, he hadn’t minded losing to her—the opportunity to view her beauty in full blossom.
Today, however, he felt mostly indifferent.
He followed suit and…didn’t matchthat. He’d barely even notched the outermost white ring. “I’m a bit out of practice,” he offered apologetically.
Imogen enjoyed winning, yes, but mostly she enjoyed a close competition that was, of course, followed by her win.
With the next arrow, she struck the heart again.
Dev missed the haystack altogether.
“Dev!” she exclaimed in frustration. “Are you even trying?”
He wasn’t.
He cared not a whit who won.
He was just about to tell her exactly that when two figures appeared on the periphery of his vision. Two ladies, strolling into view from the direction of the pond. Was that a dog with them?
He didn’t know the dog or one of the ladies. But he did know the other lady on sight…and feel…
And every which other way, too.
His heart lifted in his chest.
Beatrix.
“Dev,” Imogen said—at his back.
His feet had begun moving—toward Beatrix.
“We still have two rounds.”
“Of course.” He couldn’t keep the indifference from his voice.
As the contest resumed, he tracked Beatrix from the edge of his eye as she mingled through the gathering, which had grown in size since he and Imogen had begun shooting. She did so easily, as this was the world to which she was accustomed.
Further, he recognized the other woman.Lady Artemis Keating, sister of the Duke of Rakesley. As Lady Artemis was rumored to be both intelligent and a woman who went her own way, Dev immediately saw how the women would be friends. Birds of a feather, those two.
At last, the round concluded—which happened to coincide with Beatrix and Lady Artemis venturing within speaking distance.
“You’re looking lovely today,” he called out.
A delighted laugh trilled from Imogen, but her smile fell when she saw she wasn’t the object of the compliment.
