“Not so easy to pick a favorite, is it?” Blake’s eyes glinted in the sunlight as he teased her.
“No, it is not,” Jane admitted begrudgingly.
As they approached the stables, the Duke gave her a sidelong look. “I think it is rather likely I am going to win our little wager.”
“Do you make such a regular habit of counting your chickens before they hatch, or is that something you reserve for me?” Jane arched an eyebrow at him.
“Look.” Blake pointed into the distance, a little past the stables.
Jane looked in the direction the Duke was pointing. A little way away from the stables, an archery course had been set up. Beside it was a servant standing in front of a collection of bottles.
As they walked towards the course, Jane saw that in the place of normal targets, there was only a single one, in the shape of a heart.
“It would appear we are to shoot Cupid’s arrow to win the next task. Rather on the nose.” Blake made a face.
Privately, Jane agreed, but she was not going to admit that to Blake. “Let us hope your archery form is not as bad as your fencing.”
“Do not tell me you are an archer as well as a fencer.” Blake sounded skeptical.
“What can I say? I am a woman of many talents.” Jane grinned at him.
For once, my many hobbies are proving a boon.
Over the years, Jane had tried most hobbies. Some she had tried simply out of curiosity or to irritate her mother, but most she had taken up because she enjoyed them. Though nothing ever seemed to stick. She would pick something up, follow it religiously for weeks or months, only to stop it suddenly and without warning. Riding, Japan-work, and any number of crafts had all taken her fancy, and all of them had palled at one point or another.
When was the last time I loosed an arrow?
Archery had been one of her favorites, but as she had joined Society, she had put it to the side.
Well, it does not matter now.
“So it would appear.” Blake took one of the bows, nocked an arrow, and took aim.
His form was perfect, and as Jane watched him line up the target, she was transfixed by the strange peace that stole across his face. The wind lightly ruffled his hair. He took a breath, and Jane saw his muscles tighten.
A moment later, he released the bowstring, and the arrow struck true. The arrow quivered in the center of the heart, and Blake let out a celebratory whoop. He turned to Jane, grinning wide.
“Well, it would seem you are a far better archer than you are a fencer.” Jane clapped once, keeping her voice decidedly unimpressed.
“When I was a boy, I was fascinated with stories of warlords who used mounted archers. I had a special bow commissioned so that I might try it myself. It was one of the few things my father encouraged.” His eyes narrowed for an instant, the flicker of emotion gone so fast that Jane was not certain she had seen it.
For a moment, he had looked pained, but it had been replaced by his usual languid charm that Jane was sure she had imagined it.
The Duke held the bow out to her. “Now it is your turn. Let us see if you can match my shot.”
“You seem rather confident that I cannot.” Jane took the bow from him and reached for one of the arrows nearby. “Are you not worried I might shoot you instead?”
“I do not plan on standing in front of you,” Blake said, ducking behind her. “And I would hope that you would appreciate that sticking me with an arrow is unlikely to make either of our friends happy.”
“No probably not.” Jane nodded. “And just so you know, I fully intend on beating your shot.”
“If you are capable of it, of course,” Blake added.
“Do you doubt me?” Jane arched an eyebrow at him.
“Why wouldn’t I?” Blake laughed.
“Oh, ye of little faith. I’ll have you know that I am quite the accomplished archer,” Jane said as confidently as she could manage.
