“Better luck next time.” He should feel guilty for baiting her, knowing the difference in their skill levels. He didn’t. Not if it gave him even the slightest advantage she’d agree to his proposal.
“Condolencesarein order, Your Grace.” Her triumphant smile gave him pause. “For you.”
He dropped his hand she’d refused to shake and frowned at the target. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a sore loser...” He trailed off as she crooked her finger. Following her order, he leaned over... over, around the target until a second target—a good fifty feet farther back—stood hidden in the trees.
And in the dead center was her arrow.
Percy froze.
There were snipers who couldn’t make that shot.
Danny smiled sweetly. “I call that one ‘Baiting the Duke.’”
Percy stared.
She’d fucking conned him.
“There’s a perfect plot of land on the south side of the Grandfellow property for a green house,” she said. “By the time you break ground in the spring, the trees could be shipped and have arrived in plenty of time. The Duke of Camine will assist if you have questions, I’m sure. His peach tree grove is sublime, from what the duchess implies.”
If he wasn’t already a smitten fool, her sound thrashing of his ego would have done the trick admirably.
But she wasn’t done.
“I know as an ex-assassin in Her Majesty’s service, you have quite the reputation of superior skill, but if you need any assistance defending your grove until the trees take root, I am but a stroll through the woods away.”
Percy applauded her technique. That knife twist would have gutted a man with even a modicum of pride.
“Watching you wield that bow, I find myself doubting my male prowess to protect anything,” he said.
Her smile never wavered. “I could feign hysterics if it would lend you to feeling less impotent.”
She was marvelous.
“I do believe the sharp insult to my male pride has reaffirmed our roles aptly, but thank you for the offer.”
“You are most welcome.”
That grin of hers—forget marvelous, she was devious, lovely. He’d been right in his assumption of her success as a force of nature. Give the woman a weapon and she’d hold the world at arrow point. Give her a worthy title and she’d rule like a gods’ damn queen.
Now to offer her the world.
“Nothing else to add?” she asked with a tipped lip.
If bland poetry—andsuperiorskill—was out, it would be best to be direct. “I do believe I’m in love with you.”
Her sudden parted lips and stunned silence vanished with a smile. She set down her bow and crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s about time you came to your senses. Or is this merely self-preservation? Truly, Your Grace, I’m nowhere near as proficient with a moving target.”
Her teasing brought bright hope to the dark uncertainty in his chest. “Does that mean you approve of my affections?”
“Not only do I approve, sir...” Her gaze was hot and honest. “It seems you’ve ruined me for every other man.”
Her silken words, like fingers brushed across his groin, had his feet eating up the scant distance between them.
Shewas ruined? He pulled her into his arms, his hands digging into her hair to guide her head closer, her lips a hair’s breadth from his. He growled against her mouth, “You ruined me the moment you put that wicked tongue on my knife.”
Her eyes danced with amusement. “A quick lick is all it takes? Men are far easier to snare than I anticipated.”
“There’s that wicked tongue again.”
