If Charley were to win the contest outright and then not select Jules as her companion, the message she sent would be an even stronger one.
The thought of him walking and talking with Rachel Somerset on tomorrow’s excursion sent Charley’s heart plummeting—which ought to be warning enough. But she’d let down her guard. And spending time alone with Julian Elias Fitzwilliam was a heady experience and could potentially weaken her resolve. She mustn’t allow her emotions to overrule her determination to reclaim her life in America and take over her father’s company.
“I accept your challenge, Miss Somerset.”
Chapter 19
WARRIOR WALLFLOWER
“Twenty pounds Miss Jackson edges her out,” Mantis said softly after sidling up beside Jules.
“I’d be a fool in more ways than one to take a bet like that.” Jules would not bet against Charley. Even if he didn’t believe she had a chance at hell in winning, he’d not do that.
She hadn’t wanted to participate in the contest, but he didn’t begrudge her for doing so. For as long as he’d been acquainted with the Somerset sisters, he knew that the older chit had not been afraid to show her claws. God help the man who married her.
God help him if Charley lost. He, as well as every other bachelor in England, was fully aware that that Rachel Somerset and her mother had been setting traps for titled gentlemen since the first day she’d made her come-out a few years ago. A trickle of sweat dripped down the back of his neck.
Charley would win. She’d been the one who’d aimed the arrows they’d shot together. Good lord, he hoped so.
Had he inadvertently aimed it for her? Had she merely experienced a short burst of beginner’s luck?
The prickly but pretty brunette lined up to take the first shot while Charley stood back, clutching her arms in front of herself. Was she nervous?
He couldn’t quite tell. Was she a warrior or a wallflower today?
The thwacking sound of an arrow landing drew his attention back to the target. Charley’s challenger had managed to hit the second ring around the center one.
“I should have warmed up.”
“A commendable shot.” Stone’s encouragement had Jules wondering who of his friends had wagered on Charley and who had wagered on Miss Somerset.
Because, of course, they would never pass up such an opportunity.
“Miss Jackson.” Chase gestured for Charley, who had retrieved the arrow she’d used a moment before, to take her turn.
“Best shot out of three wins?” she asked, looking far too innocent for his comfort.
Surely, she’d done this before? Or perhaps, he held back a grin, she’d killed a few bears. It would not have surprised him. The fact that she surprised him as often as she had with something she said or did was already rather stupefying.
“Best out of three.” Jules met her gaze. What in bloody hell was going on in that complicated brain of hers?
She stepped up to the imaginary line where Miss Somerset had shot from and then took a step backward.
And then she sent him a look.
And he knew.
It was the same look she’d had when she offered him a taste of her whiskey. It was the same look she’d had when she’d tasted the scotch.
She was in complete control of this competition.
Jules exhaled a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.
Charley lifted the bow and slipped the arrow onto the string with steady hands. Would she hit the inner rim or the center of the bullseye? She closed one eye and then let her arrow shoot forward and land…
On the outer edge of the outer circle. A groan of disappointment floated through the room followed by subdued applause when it barely managed to cling to the side bale of hay it protruded from. What the devil?
He’d have to remind himself never to play cards with her. The shot was a bluff. It was a perfectly orchestrated maneuver to make the other girl feel overly confident.
