Page 84 of What a Highlander’s Got to Do

“Your turn now.”

He took aim, with a fine form, and let his arrow fly. It landed in the outer ring, exactly opposite hers.

“Oh,” she sighed. “Verra well done.”

“Thank you.”

Isobel raised her bow and sighted on the middle ring.

Just as she was about to shoot, a voice rang out. “What is going on here?” By the grace of God, she did not loose her arrow. She dropped her bow and frowned at her father.

“We’re having a competition. Hush, please.” She offered him a dark glare.

“A competition?” Uncle Lachlan said with a laugh.

Uncle Alexander shook his head. “Seriously?”

“Hush, will you? I am about to shoot.” The last thing she wanted at this moment was for them to give her away.

“They have a wager,” Sorcha said.

Papa glowered. “What did you bet her?” he asked Nick.

Isobel huffed a breath. “Only a token. Now please. I need to focus.”

“You do?” Uncle Lachlan again.

“Hush.” She drew in a breath, sighted the middle ring, and released.

Again, a direct hit.

Murmurs rose among the men—except her relations, who knew better.

Nick stared at her. “Isobel, that is very good shooting.”

“Oh, thank you, Lord Stirling,” she gushed. She couldn’t be certain but she thought Papa might have rolled his eyes. “Your turn.”

Nick lifted his bow and shot again. This arrow was not so perfectly placed. It hit just inside the ring, to the left.

But she said, “Verra nice,” just to be polite.

“One more shot,” Malcolm said, which was annoying, because she knew damn well how many shots were left.

Somehow, she forbore giving him a look, lifted her bow, and aimed at the center circle. Her arrow flew true and hit it dead-on. She turned to Nick, who was staring at the target with his mouth agape, and smiled. “Your turn,” she said. “Do try to focus this time.”

He blinked at her, swallowed heavily, and took his shot.

It was a good effort. In some circles, an excellent one, but hers was clearly better.

Without a word, she picked up another missile and shot again.

When this arrow hit her last one—sliced it in half to be precise—a great cry went up among the company and Isobel laughed.

Nick dropped his bow, set his hands on his hips, and turned to her with a sheepish smile. “I do believe you’ve been bamming us.”

Uncle Lachlan chuckled and slapped him on the shoulder. “I hope you dinna bet much, young man.”

Papa sighed. “I remember when your mother beat me like that,” he said, wistfully staring at the target.