Snap.
A twig cracked to his right, and instinctively, he swung the rifle in that direction. He had a shot—a clean shot—but the moment his finger brushed the trigger, Daphne's voice echoed in his thoughts.
His finger twitched.Bang.
The shot missed by a mile. The deer darted away, disappearing.
"You missed it?" Sebastian called out behind him, his voice now drained of all previous glee. "Nephew..."
"I will get it next time," Ambrose said, annoyed at himself more than anyone else.
"That's not like you. You used to have the best aim in all of England."
Ambrose shot his uncle a sidelong glance, but said nothing. He swung back onto his horse, the reins tight in his hands.
"Don't tell me you're getting rusty, nephew," Sebastian added, falling in beside him as the group began to move forward again. "Or..." His voice dropped to a conspiratorial tone. "Is it something else that's got you so distracted?"
"I'm not distracted."
Sebastian raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "No? Because I've seen you lose focus before—but not like this. Not during a hunt, of all things." He leaned in slightly.
Ambrose clenched his teeth, refusing to rise to the bait. "You're imagining things."
"Am I really?" his uncle was clearly getting amusement out of this now. "You know... you could always ride alongside her instead of your brother."
Ambrose did not even bother to respond. His uncle had clearly gone mad – suggesting that somehow hunting with Daphne would solve the problem.
"Who knows? You might even kill on the first try," his uncle continued, "to impress her."
"I would be altogether more impressive if she was not here to begin with," Ambrose said through gritted teeth.
"So you do admit that she is the reason why your mind appears elsewhere?"
Ambrose did not know how to respond. His uncle had always been an expert at reading people – decades of life experience had gotten him that. He seemed to have read him like a book, despite his best efforts to conceal his irritation.
Or perhaps even... interest. He shuddered to think of that possibility.
"She is a thorn in my way," Ambrose finally admitted. "I would appreciate it if you stop giving her more importance than she ought to have."
"A rose with thorns is still a rose," Sebastian chuckled.
A rose with thorns.
Ambrose thought it over for a moment. Somehow, the description fit her well.
As the hunt drew to a close, his luck did not improve much. If anything, he was even more distracted. By the time they rode back to the common meeting point, he was annoyed more than ever.
"Well, better luck next time," his uncle grumbled behind him.
Slowly, all the huntsmen began to gather. Ambrose's eyes narrowed as Richard rode up, his horse slowing to a trot. His gaze darted to the space beside him again, expecting to see Daphne trailing behind, but she was nowhere in sight.
"Where's Daphne?" Ambrose asked immediately.
Richard looked startled for a moment, glancing around as if only now realizing the absence. "I thought she was right behind me."
Ambrose's stomach twisted. "You thought?"
Richard nodded, looking sheepish. "She must've fallen behind."
