Daphne furrowed her brow, and stuck out her tongue, concentrating.
“You look positively fetching that way,” he said with a laugh. Daphne quickly popped her tongue back into her mouth and swallowed the smile that was in danger of spreading across her lips.
“Pinch the blade without pressing against the point or the sharp part,” he continued.
Daphne did exactly as she was told, trying to ignore both his closeness and his familiar scent.
“Excellent,” Rafe said.
“Now what?” Daphne asked, the tip of her tongue caught between her teeth.
“Now you must adjust your angle. It will determine how quickly the knife will flip. The angle, of course, depends on how far you are from your target.”
“I see,” she said, moving her hand at an angle.
“It’s in the wrist,” he added. “If your target is close, you must bend your wrist back as far as you can, which will allow it to flip more quickly.”
“And if the target is far away?”
“Don’t bend your wrist at all. It will keep the knife from turning too much,” Rafe said.
“Very well.”
“Next, you pick your target. I’ve already counted and it’s ten paces to the target. See there?” Rafe pointed toward the wooden box.
Daphne nodded again. “Yes.”
“Now, throw!”
Daphne pulled back her arm and let go. The knife flew through the air and glanced off the side of the box.“Sacrebleu!”she exclaimed, but she felt her cheeks heating. “Sorry. I’ve obviously spent too much time with a certain twelve-year-old whoadoresFrench.”
Rafe whistled. “Actually not bad for a first throw. Most people hit entirely too wide of the mark. At least you connected with it.”
Daphne smiled at the praise and Rafe glanced away.
“Speaking of Delilah,” Rafe continued. “I can just imagine how easily she’d take to this particular sport.”
“No doubt she’d excel at it. As for me, I’m rubbish at archery but this seems like much more fun.” Daphne laughed.
Rafe bent over to pick up the next knife and Daphne caught a glimpse of his perfect backside. The man really should be awarded a medal for that particular feature. It was positively riveting. When he straightened again, he handed her a new knife and Daphne shook her head to clear it of her indecent thoughts.
After a bit of maneuvering she threw the second knife. This time the blade struck. Rafe whistled again. “You have a natural talent for this, Grey.”
She bowed. “Thank you, Captain.” She glanced up at him. The sun was in his hair, his shirt hugged his muscled chest, his breeches hugged his backside. She glanced away. His nearness had made her want to kiss him, she realized. He smelled so good and looked so handsome and— No. This was completely useless thinking. No more kisses between them. Ever. The one had been quite nice but there were still a score of reasons why kissing him was a bad, bad idea. Not the least of which was the mysterious blond, the sister comment, and the fact that they were set to get an annulment as soon as they finished this mission. The mission for which she must learn how to adequately throw a knife. She needed to concentrate onthat,not how good the man looked in his breeches. And he did, indeed, look very, very good.
Rafe came up behind her again, jolting Daphne from her thoughts. “This blade is far larger than the others. Allow me to show you,” he said.
His nearness caused gooseflesh to pop along the back of her neck. She swallowed. His large, warm hand covered hers. Why was her hand so cold? She’d never before realized how small her hands were. They were tiny compared to his. “Y… yes,” she breathed.
His chin hovered just above her right shoulder. “Hold this one by the handle,” he instructed.
He smelled like wood and ocean breezes. She closed her eyes. Oh, fiddle. She couldn’t concentrate on his instruction. She was reliving their kiss over and over again in her mind. There was no help for it. She wanted to kiss him again.
“… like this,” he was saying, and Daphne bit the inside of her cheek to remind herself to pay attention. Rafe moved to the side to allow her room to throw. It was much easier to think when he wasn’t so near. She pulled back her wrist and let the blade fly. It struck the box straight on and quivered in the wood. She expelled her breath.
“Well done,” he said, grinning at her. She tried not to notice the alluring cleft in his chin. “I’ll leave you to practice. I must see to a few things.”
He was leaving? Why did the thought make her want to whimper?
