Thaddeus made an exaggerated attempt and then hung his head.
Anthony chuckled. “Looks like you have failed as well.”
Keeping his head down, Cheverley stepped out from the hedge. “May I attempt the feat?”
“Why it’s the captain-turned beggar!” One of Anthony’s coterie exclaimed. “And he’s gone to great lengths to clean himself up.”
“Insolence!” Anthony cried. He stalked toward Cheverley. “You should not be allowed to set foot on this land, you aren’t fit to look on Penelope, let alone compete for her hand.”
“Cousin,” Pen scolded, “what harm is there in letting him try?”
“Would you wed this beggar?” Anthony asked.
“I don’t need to,” Penelope replied, because, of course, they were already wed. “He just wants to take a chance at stringing and shooting the bow.”
Penelope met Chev’s gaze. Her inner smile may not have been visible to anyone else, but it sank in ever-tightening spirals straight into his heart.
“Wouldn’t that be beautiful?” Thomas said. “Him winning where we have failed.”
“We’d be shamed,” Anthony replied.
“Shamed?” Chev queried. “You’ve wasted another’s riches. You’ve disrespected the duke, his heir, and the women of this house.”
Emmaus locked the gate.
“I do not have to listen to this.” Anthony turned toward the house.
Thaddeus blocked Anthony’s path.
“For all this and more,” Chev took off his cap and lifted his face, “you are already shamed.”
Anthony froze, jaw slacked.
“Hand me the bow, son.”
Thaddeus handed over the bow. Cheverly attached his string to the bottom, and then, stepping through the bow the way he’d shown Thaddeus, he fastened the string to the top.
He nocked his arrow, and he aimed.
A small spot of Ithwick’s grey stone was visible through the handle holes.
Around him the sounds of the crowd rushed like the winds over the ocean.
The leather mouthpiece tasted of dwindling hung beef.
His neck swelled as he pulled back.
One shot.
One shot that would raft him back to the great yew bed.
He would bury his face in softness of Penelope’s hair and relish her touch.
One shot—not to pierce the pirate’s putrid heart but reunite him with his life.
He released the arrow. The slender piece of wood sailed through the holes in all twelve axes, before lodging in the door to Ithwick Manor.
“Cheverley,” Anthony whispered.
