Exuberant smile stretching from ear to ear, Lukaz wrapped his arms around her hips and hugged her tight. “Bonjour, Lady Ulla! I’ve brought my Papa to watch me.” Dark brown waves framed his pleading face as he lifted his head from her stomach, imploring her with enormous blue eyes. “Can he hunt with us today? When we go to the stables to fetch Nåde, he can borrow one of Papi’s Friesians. Or ride his own horse from Biarritz. Please, Lady Ulla? I want him to meet Finn and Rask. Can he come with us?S’il vous plaît?”
Ulla chuckled silently, bending down to kiss his soft cheeks as she nodded her assent. While Lukaz whooped with glee, she glanced up at Cardin, whose deep green eyes held hers. A delicious shiver rippled up Ulla’s spine under the intensity of his ardent gaze.
He’s an expert archer and skilled hunter. I can tell by the fierce hunger in his eyes.
A bit flustered from the primal aura exuding from Cardin’s compelling presence, Ulla welcomed Lukaz and his father into her humble home with a sweep of her outstretched arm.
She noted that Cardin carried a shortbow today, to accompany Lukaz for his lesson.As a royal archer for King Guillemin of Finistère, he must be highly proficient with a longbow as well. Perhaps he can give me lessons, too.
The leather quiver of finely fletched arrows slung across his small shoulder, Lukaz gripped his new bow in his right hand, proudly displaying the impressive gift that Laudine and Esclados had given their grandson. With an encouraging smile, Ulla led the little boy and his father into the kitchen where she retrieved her own bow and arrow.
She opened the back door, whistled for Vill, and led Lukaz and Cardin down the three stone steps to the sheltered enclave behind her cottage.
“The target is over there, Papa. On the trunk of that huge tree.” Lukaz pointed to a clearing at the edge of the forest where an enormous oak stretched its majestic branches toward the crisp September sky. “At first, I could only reach it from five yards,” he explained as he and Ulla led Cardin toward the target. “But now, Lady Ulla moved me back to ten yards. And I can hit inside the rings almost every time. Watch me, Papa!”
Scrunching his face into a grimace of intense concentration, Lukaz aligned himself perpendicular to the target. He nocked his arrow, and—extending his bow to arm’s length and keeping his firing arm parallel to the ground—tautly drew the string back to the corner of his tightly pressed mouth. He released the arrow to a superbly satisfyingthwackas it struck the outer ring of the target.
“Excellent shot!” Cardin boomed with a hearty grin. “Let me show you something that will improve your accuracy.” He approached his son and placed his large hands on either side of the boy’s torso to straighten his posture. “Beginners often lean back, as you did just now. But if you keep your collarbone parallel to the arrow, your torso straight, and your hips like this,” he instructed, positioning them in line with the bow, “your aim will be consistent. And you’ll develop accuracy and precision.” Cardin stepped back, away from Lukaz. “Now, make those slight adjustments. And try again.”
With concentrated effort, Lukaz straightened his torso and aligned his hips. Keeping his collarbone parallel to the arrow, he tightly drew the bowstring back to the corner of his compressed lips for a perfect release. When the arrow struck the inner ring of the target, Lukaz shouted in triumph and jumped for joy. He dropped his bow and hurled himself at his father, who nearly toppled backward from the force of the impact. “Ça y est! I did it!Merci beaucoup, Papa!” Lukaz buried his head in Cardin’s hard stomach, his youthful face aglow with unbridled bliss. “I amso gladyou came home from Biarritz.”
Ulla’s spirit soared at the stirring sight of Cardin embracing his young son.
This is exactly what Lukaz needs. His father’s love and acceptance.And the priceless gift of his time.
Despite her contentment, a nagging doubt niggled at the back of Ulla’s mind.
But what happens to Lukaz when the Basque Wolf Basati returns to Biarritz?
****
Cardin hugged Lukaz tight, sharing the boy’s elation at the improved accuracy in his aim due to the slight adjustment in posture. He eyed the intriguing Ulla, who observed them both with a silent, satisfied smile.
She is enchanting and exotic, like a woodland sprite or forest fairy from ancient Celtic lore. A healing aura emanates from her, like heat rising from a flame. The wild, abundant mane of her long black hair reminds me of an untamed horse. And her alluring eyes, full of wisdom and sorrow, beckon with the verdant mystery of a forbidden forest.
“Lady Ulla, it’s your turn. Show Papa how you can hit the target, too!” Wide-eyed wonder illuminated Lukaz’ face as he beheld his beloved teacher.
With the elegance and grace of a sleek, magnificent horse, Ulla strode away from the enormous oak and positioned her lithe body at a right angle from the target. She shook her luxurious mane of waist-length black curls, straightened her spine and aligned her slim hips. Extending her bow at arm’s length from her shoulder, she nocked her arrow, pulled the string back to the anchor point at her chin, and executed a perfect release. With a resounding thud, her swift arrow embedded in the center ring of the target.
Lukaz squealed with delight and hugged Ulla to congratulate her success.
Dark green gown fluttering like foliage in the early autumn breeze, the priestess strolled across the clearing to retrieve her arrow as an animated Lukaz spun excitedly toward his father.
“Papa, show me your skill. Can you hit the target from fifty yards?”
Cardin watched the enticing sway of Ulla’s rounded hips as she walked toward the target. Quickly averting his gaze, he responded to his eager son. “Indeed I can. In fact, to become a royal archer atle Château de Beaufortfor King Guillemin of Finistère, I had to accurately hit a target with my shortbow at a distance of one hundred yards.” Cardin chuckled from his belly as the little boy gasped, his rounded mouth agape in awe. “And with my longbow, I had to consistently hit a target at three hundred yards.” He grinned at his astonished son, pleased for the opportunity to demonstrate his prowess to Lukaz. And he had to admit that he really wanted to impress Ulla, a fine archer in her own right.
When she approached, having fetched her arrow from the target, her eyes held his with a mesmerizing stare. A shivering thrill rippled up his spine and settled in his pounding chest. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath to calm his racing heart.
With a subtle nod, he stepped back from Lukaz and Ulla. Gripping his superbly crafted bow— made with the heartwood of supple yew on the inside for compression and the sturdy sapwood on the outside for strength—Cardin trudged across the leaf-strewn forest floor to a distance of approximately one hundred yards from the target. As his breathless son and the bewitching priestess watched in wonder, Cardin nocked an arrow, took aim, and executed a perfect release with effortless grace and flawless aim.
Because of its long, triangular fletching and barbed, double-bladed head, Cardin’s ash arrow flew swiftly and surely, lodging in the dead center of the target. To show off a bit more for his appreciative audience, he fired two more arrows in quick succession, all three superbly striking and embedding in the innermost circle.
Lukaz leapt into the air, whooping and cheering for his father’s impressive feat. When the lad dashed toward the target to retrieve the arrows, the wolf Vill raced eagerly at his side.
A grinning Cardin turned toward Ulla.
And lost all coherent thought in the enticing depths of her dark green eyes.
