He is mine.
“And now Lady Samantha will show off her prowess with her knives for the first time. She is shy, so please encourage her with a round of applause.”
The clapping was loud.
“As if I wasn’t nervous already,” she muttered, knowing he would hear.
“Stop whining and get on with it.” He passed her to stand before the long piece of wood Buttles had placed there for her to throw her knives at.
“I say, that’s not a very ladylike occupation,” someone said loud enough for her to hear.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Max said. “I think a lady who can defend herself and those close to her is exceptional in my book.”
Samantha shut out the voices and focused on Warwick, who now stood holding a book. He had a calm expression on his face and a small secret smile on his lips that was just for her. She felt little flutters in her belly as she realized he was hers now. Her Sinclair. Her love.
“Relax,” he said to her.
Lifting the first knife, she went through the process she always did. Took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. The voices had died down, and now there was only silence. She released the knife, and it hit the center of the book.
The crowd applauded. Next, she hit an apple and then a note. Warwick then picked up a long feather and put it in his mouth.
“What are you doing!” she hissed as the crowd gasped.
“I trust you,” he said around the feather. “Do it, Samantha.”
Dear Lord, she could miss. But Lilly was here. Her heart had started thudding. She did not want to mar his handsome face.
“I trust you.”
She exhaled slowly, aimed, and released. The crowd held its breath and then she heard their excited cries as her knife pinned the feather to the board. Warwick was smiling when he reached her.
“Well done, but then I knew you could do it.”
“No you didn’t.”
He took her hand and led her forward. They bowed. The crowd applauded. She could see their family all smiling up at them.
“And now I believe Mr. Dillinger and his band will play for you through to supper,” Warwick said as he led Samantha from the stage.
“That was impressive, Lady Samantha,” Daniel Dillinger said. He was married to the Earl of Raine’s sister and a quiet, steady man who Warwick respected very much.
“Thank you. Good luck for your performance,” Samantha said.
“I’m unsure why my wife felt she needed to put me through this. Playing for family is bad enough, but this, we could be disgraced and run out of society,” Daniel said.
“Or not,” Warwick said. “They are a very accommodating crowd. Samantha just hurled knives at me in a very unladylike manner, I’m sure a few wrong notes will not offend anyone.”
“Perhaps you are right.” But he did not look convinced.
The musicians trooped up to the stage, and Samantha and Warwick took the steps down.
“Thank you, Warwick.”
“You’re welcome.” His eyes went left and right, and then he pulled her into his hard body. The kiss that followed obliterated every thought from her head. “I care about you, Samantha, and just so we’re clear, you are my Raven, and I’m keeping you.”
“Oh well… I’m not sure—”
“Yes you are. You wouldn’t let me kiss you like this if you didn’t feel the same about me.”
