Conor glanced at his copper-haired twin sister who stood next to him, clasping his arm. Eva’s soft gray eyes, tinged with the same emerald green as their mother’s, were filled with concern as she gazed across the stronghold yard.
A row of straw targets had been set up for the archery competition, and Deirdre stomped from one to the other, inspecting them closely to see if their placement was correct—aye, to her mind, anyway, as Conor uttered a humorless laugh.
“Does she look as if she’s pleased? Happy? Elated? I’ve never seen her so outraged, and that says a lot for knowing her a lifetime. God help us if she decides to skewer the lot of them with her arrows, aye, I wouldn’t put it past her.”
“Oh, no, she would never do such a thing,” Eva insisted softly, though her expression was doubtful. “I feel sorry for her, truly. She’s never once said to me that she wants a husband and home and family—and that’s all I ever wanted.”
Conor bent his head to kiss Eva’s temple, his younger sister by mere moments as sweet and kindhearted as anyone he’d known, the contrast between Deirdre and Eva never ceasing to amaze him.
Yet Deirdre could be tenderhearted and caring, too, when it came to puppies and kittens and playing with Tomas, Eva’s two-year-old son with her husband, Tiernan…though right now from Deirdre’s heated expression, shedidlook like she wanted to skewer someone.
Aye, and it didn’t take much to guess who she might be plotting to harm.
Conor gave another dry laugh as he glanced to where Liam stood with Brendan and Darragh, the three men holding their bows as they waited for Deirdre to complete her inspection—or her stalling or whatever whim had seized upon her.
Liam’s expression appeared as irked as Deirdre’s, which made Conor shake his head that so formidable a warrior couldbe undone by her obvious ploy to upset him by lavishing attention upon his remaining two competitors.
Fergal had yet to emerge from the outhouse while Cian and Roy had been half carried to the infirmary, both of them begging off any further participation in the day’s events—and thus forfeiting any possibility of winning Deirdre’s hand in marriage.
Not that any of those three had possessed a chance in hell, Conor amazed at how quickly they had succumbed to Deirdre’s flattery and ruinous suggestion that they eat enough porridge to make themselves ill.
Aye, she was a clever one, which made him wonder as Eva squeezed his arm and glanced up at him what Deirdre might be planning next?—
“Do you think Father will soon do the same to you, Conor? Insist you wed, I mean.”
“Me?” He had stiffened, which made Eva smile gently with understanding.
“I know, you’ve long said you’re not ready to marry, but it’s truly wonderful to share your life with someone you love. Tiernan is everything to me—and to have your own babe to hold in your arms, I couldn’t feel more blessed.” Sighing with contentment, Eva placed her hand on her rounded stomach. “I wonder if this child is a boy or girl. Tiernan believes another son, but I’m hoping for a wee daughter—oh! The babe just kicked me. Mayhap we’ll soon have another high-spirited one like Deirdre.”
“God help us all,” Conor said under his breath as Tiernan, dark-haired and sturdily built, strode up carrying Tomas, who looked the very image of his robust father.
The little boy pointed his finger at Deirdre and then waved to her, saying her name, which made Deirdre actually smile for a fleeting moment and wave back before returning to her task that never seemed to end.
Mayhap that was the point, Conor thought as he glanced again at Liam, who paced back and forth now with what appeared mounting impatience—aye, clearly Deirdre was baiting him. Oh, aye, this competition was surely going to be entertaining…
“Enough, Deirdre, come and join us!” shouted Ronan as he strode forward and gestured for her suitors to take their places. “You will shoot first and then each man will have a chance at his own target to hit the center mark. Mayhap, with luck, one or more of them will prove their skill and impress you, daughter.”
“Oh, aye, Father, that would be grand,” Deirdre answered with a sweetness in her voice that didn’t match at all the flash of defiance in her eyes. “A worthy man, indeed, would be one who can outshoot me…but we shall see.”
As if anticipating trouble, Tiernan at once shepherded Eva and their giggling son further back from where Liam, Darragh, and Brendan had positioned themselves along a line that had been dug into the dirt…while Conor heaved a sigh and sent up a prayer that everyone would survive.
Deirdre was a daunting sight indeed, as she walked briskly toward the line with her bow clutched in one hand and a quiver stuffed with arrows slung over her left shoulder—until she stopped at her place and spun around.
An owl-fletched arrow strung and set flying before anyone could hardly blink…straight into the heart of her target.
A great roar of approval exploded from the gathered clansmen in response to her astonishing feat, Conor groaning as Deirdre glanced directly at Liam and lifted her chin as if to taunt him.
“Your turn, O’Toole. I dare you to do any better.”
“You brazen minx,”Liam muttered more to himself, though he could see from Deirdre’s widened gaze that she had heard him, her lovely face flushed with indignation.
So lovely, in fact, that he found himself staring at the entrancing vision she made with her midnight curls swirling around her in the breeze and her feminine curves outlined in tempting detail beneath her masculine clothing that seemed to fit her like a second skin?—
“I said your turn!”
“Aye, woman, so you did.” Focusing as best he could in spite of his quickened heartbeat, Liam strung his bow and took aim…though her sudden sharp intake of breath distracted him and he shot wide, to his chagrin, embedding in the very edge of the target.
“Very impressive, indeed,” came her wry aside as Brendan stepped up to the line and sent his arrow straight into the target only an inch from the center, his close shot eliciting the loveliest of smiles from her.
