He shrugged as if the difference were immaterial. “It’s my job to protect you, Cate.”
“I can protect myself.”
He didn’t argue; he just looked at her with a pleading expression in his eyes. “Let me do this, sweetheart. Just until we are sure the man you saw was nothing.”
Did Gregor have reason to suspect the man could besomething? She held his gaze for a long moment, but he gave nothing away. All she could see was genuine concern.
Good gracious, it was hard to resist him. “If you want to protect me, why don’t you come with us?” He seemed about to refuse, when she added, “That is, if you can bear to tear yourself away for a few hours from the bevy of admirers. ‘Oh, my laird, I brought you this tart because I know how much you love figs,’” she mimicked, “Or ‘Oh, my laird, have you had this cheese from our farm?’” She made a sharp scoffing sound. “Their ploys are so obvious. Does every woman think the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach?”
He crossed his arms and grinned at her. “Well, I do like figs and cheese.”
“Gregor!” she exclaimed, swatting at him. “That isn’t funny.”
He grabbed her and hauled her up against his broad chest. Would she ever get used to the feel of his strength? Would the hard shield of muscle ever stop making her skin tingle and her knees weak?
“You have no reason to be jealous, Cate. Those women mean nothing to me; I see through their ploys easily enough. That’s why you are so special.”
“Because you don’t see through my ploys?” she mumbled disgruntledly.
He laughed. “Because you don’t have them.” He dropped a kiss on her nose. “Now, are you going to smile and be a good hostess toallour guests, or am I going to have to bend you forcibly to my will?”
She lifted a brow. “Is that your diabolical plan?”
“Aye, you’ve found me out. I plan to keep you so well sated, you don’t have the energy to argue with me.”
She laughed and shook her head. God knew he probably could. Despite the fact that they’d just made love, she could already feel him hardening against her again. “But now I shall be on guard, since you have warned me of your nefarious purpose.” She made a face. “Very well, I will smile and be perfectly charming.” She demonstrated with a very forced smile. But then her eyes narrowed. “Unless someone does something to annoy me. Tell your admirers to keep their hands to themselves. Especially the willowy blonde—your uncle’s henchman’s sister, I believe?”
“How about I mention how good you are with a dagger. Do you think that will suffice?”
“It will be a good start. Now, what do you say about coming with us?”
He considered her for a moment. She suspected it was the prospect of spending time with Pip that was holding him back. But that was one of the reasons she wanted him there. She had a plan.
“There are a few things I must attend to, but how about I meet you there in about an hour?”
She beamed. “That will be perfect.”
It was working, Cate thought, casting another covert glance at the man leaning against the tree at the edge of the grove, who was doing his best to look uninterested.
But she wasn’t fooled. Gregor was going crazy. His hands were practically itching to intervene and put a stop to the travesty taking place before him.
When she helped Pip draw the arrow back about a half-inch below his ear and positioned the lad’s elbow down, Gregor reached his breaking point. He came stomping over to where they had set up on the edge of the largest open field in the village.
All around them were the hills and forest, but right in front of them was a fairly wide-open and flat stretch of moorland about three hundred yards in length. As such it served as the place for the annual village archery contest, during the summer fair. Large butts of hay wrapped in hemp were placed at varying distances. Covered in a few inches of snow, they looked like boulders under a blanket of white, but they served their purpose well enough in providing a safe landing place for the arrows.
Coming to a stop next to them, Gregor shot her an irritated glare. “God’s blood, Cate. He’ll never hit anything if you have him draw like that. Damn it, everything is wrong. Even his stance. His left foot should be pointed more toward the mark.” He nudged Pip’s toe with his own.
Pip was about to object, but Cate squeezed his arm to stop him. “I have perfect form, Gregor,” she insisted. “Ask John. I know exactly what I’m doing.”
She did. She was going to force these two to spend time with one another, even if they didn’t like it. And what better way than having Gregor teach the lad something he loved?
The famed archer made a harsh scoffing sound low in his throat. “Then why is he putting so much weight on his back foot to start? He should be more balanced when he is first learning. The string should be between these two fingers,” he made the adjustment for Pip, “not these two. He’s drawing too fast and jerky. His hand should stop at the lower lobe of his ear, his elbow should come out, he should be looking at the mark, not the arrowhead—he’s closing one eye, for Christ’s sake—and he’s holding too long before loosing.” He looked furious, as if he’d been personally slighted or she’d just committed some sacrilege. “Bloody hell, at each stage of standing, nocking, drawing, holding, and loosing, he’s doing something wrong.”
Cate crossed her arms and glared back at him, feigning anger. “I thought I was doing all that. But by all means, if you think you can do a better job, go right ahead.”
Gregor’s gaze sharpened. Blast it, he was too shrewd. He guessed what she was doing. Perhaps she’d gone a little too far with all her errors, but she’d wanted to make sure he noticed.
Conscious of the young boy between them who was doing his best to look as if it didn’t matter to him either way, Cate held her breath.Please don’t reject him again.
