Thunk.Bullseye.
Now for the third target. The previous archer’s arrow still stuck out of the bullseye, which could easily throw Megan’s aim off. Ryder leaned forward, finding himself interested.
She hesitated only for a second, maybe two. Then the arrow flew.
Ryder blinked, trying to understand what he was seeing.
“She shot straight through the other arrow,” Ewan breathed, leaning forward. “She split it in two, straight down the middle. I’ve nae seen that before.”
There was a pause, then the crowd broke into applause, people standing up and craning their necks to get a look at the impossible shot.
Amidst the chaos, Megan stood calm and cool, seemingly unaffected by the applause. There were a few hastily smothered accusations of cheating, mainly from the archer whose arrow she’d split.
“She’s perfect,” Ryder muttered. “She’s exactly what I need.”
Ewan glanced down at him, brow knitting together. “Aye, but she still has to accept yer proposal. And from what I saw of her, she’s a wee bit stubborn for that.”
Ryder got up from his deeply uncomfortable throne, adding his applause to the mix.
“Well done!” he cried, pitching his voice over the chatter. “Well done! I think it’s fair to say that we have our winner.”
Cheers broke out at that. He stepped carefully down from the platform and strode up toward the targets. Arrows prickled out from them, mostly around the midpoints and edges. Apparently, a good many of the archers who’d come to compete weren’t actually as good as they thought they were.
Nae her, though,Ryder thought, inspecting the third and final arrow. The male archer’s arrow was split down the middle, the wood splintering and twisting, reducing a proud arrow to nothing more than kindling and a few fletching feathers. Megan’s arrow stood straight and proud, seeming almost as if it had sprung up from the target itself and exploded through the arrow already there.
“Fascinating,” he murmured.
“I won, then?” she called, her voice carrying easily across the green field. Ryder glanced thoughtfully over at her. She had her arms crossed tightly, one hand clutching her bow. There were more arrows in her quiver, he noticed. Most archers had only brought three, one for each target. Megan, however, had brought a full quiver. Interesting.
He strode toward her, coming close enough that nobody could overhear them. She blinked a little at his proximity, but clearly would not allow herself to back away.
Clever lass,he thought approvingly.She kens what it means to project strength.
“Looks like ye have,” he said, smiling.
She didn’t smile back. She glanced around at the others. “What if I hadnae come? What if somebody else had won?”
“Ye ken, strangely enough, I never imagined that would happen,” he responded thoughtfully.
She shot him a glare of pure dislike. Ryder met her eyes squarely, tilting his head. The eyes were a good way to get the measure of a person, but in her case, he found himself distracted by thecolorof her eyes. She had blue eyes, a true sky blue.
The clear, blue color of the sky that they rarely saw up in the Highlands. His experience of the sky was usually a gray one, heavy with rain, or white with snow, or at best, a cold, dark blue. Every now and then, however, the clouds would pull back, the sun would come out, and the sky wouldglow.
That was the color of Megan’s eyes.
This took him aback a little.
Enough, lad,he scolded himself.Ye have seen pretty lassies before. Ye are thinking with yer manhood and nae yer head. I can assure ye that she wants nothin’ to do with yer manhoodorye. So stick to the plan, eh?
“Ye daenae have the treasure, do ye?” Megan stated at last, her voice slow and a little contemptuous.
Ryder cleared his throat, trying to will down the tingling rush of arousal. It went away, thankfully. Being observed by one’s whole clan would do that to a man.
“Nay,” he confessed. “I daenae. How did ye guess?”
She didn’t furnish his response with an answer. “So, why the lies?”
“Why did ye come, if ye already kent it was lies?”
