“I have no doubt you will.”
“That’s a lot of confidence from a man who’s known me for all of a day.” Lucy expected him to tease her in return, offering some amusing quip that would bring a smile to her face and warmth rushing through her.
Instead, he took a step closer. Sunlight really did do the most marvelous things to his extraordinary eyes. For the first time, she noticed a hint of green. Not the pale olive shade of her own, but a mossy green, lush and dark.
“I used to be a man of excellent instincts. When considering an investment, I’d get a tickle somewhere around here.” He pointed toward the center of his chest, lower than his heart, higher than the waist of his trousers.
Lucy stared at his hand, mesmerized as he moved it in a slow circle that pulled the fabric of his shirt taut against his stomach.
“Something would ignite in me. Like an engine, full of fire and energy, and I’d know.” He shocked her by reaching out, hooking a finger under her chin, and nudging it up until their gazes clashed. “I hadn’t felt it in a while until...”
“Until?” Lucy murmured, somehow speaking even as she held her breath.
“I met you.”
“Me?”
He dropped his gaze to her lips, which she was certain were flushed, trembling, and suddenly as warm as if she’d taken a too-hot sip of tea. She knew what came next.
Finally. For the first time in her life. Here, in this chilly field under a Scottish dawn, a man who made her tremble was going to kiss her.
His fingers strayed beyond her chin, sweeping gently down her neck, then up to tuck back a strand of hair that fluttered in the breeze.
He leaned in.
She drew in a breath so deep it nearly left her dizzy.
“I thought,” he whispered, his lips already curved in a dazzling smile, “that you might give me a lesson.”
The comment was so unexpected that Lucy froze in place, watching mutely as he strode forward and retrieved her loosed arrows from the bale of hay a cloth target was pinned to.
“Have you ever—”
“No, but I’m a quick learner.” He winked. Winked! The man was as mercurial as a summer storm.
One moment, he put her at ease in a way that she rarely felt with gentlemen, and then the next, he’d set every part of her body aflame. She didn’t understand it at all.
She didn’t like the mystery. Sussing out how things worked was ingrained in her nature, and knowing herself had always been one of her strengths.
But he made her respond in ways she had no precedent for, while he himself remained mostly a puzzle.
“May I?” He approached, holding the arrowshe’d collected over the quiver hooked to her belt. He waited for her to nod before slipping them inside. All but one.
At his expectant look, Lucy lifted the bow out to him. Her aunt’s prized possession was a lovely thing—dark burnished wood decorated with a few leaves and vines carved above and below the grip.
Despite James’s claim of having no knowledge of archery, he tested the tension of the bowstring and placed his hand on the grip like a seasoned archer. Settling the arrow, he glanced back at her for guidance.
“There’s a notch.” Lucy strode forward and ran her finger along the groove. “And you want to hold the grip...” She hesitated before placing her palm over his hand. He watched her face as she did so, as if gauging her reaction.
“A little lower,” she urged, her voice breathier than she intended.
Touching him felt familiar. The man might be an enigma, but she already knew how warm his skin would be. His hand was broad and strong, and there was a dusting of dark hair starting at his wrist. They’d formed a connection on their journey to Scotland, no matter whatever else might come between them.
“Like this?” he asked in a tone as quiet as hers.
“Exactly.” Lucy stopped touching him and clasped her fingers tight. Just as when they were on the train, the brief contact settled her nerves. Gave her an odd sense of comfort and yet somehow sent a strange zinging energy through her at the same time.
He overextended as he pulled back.
