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The feeling was intoxicating.

Abigail made a frustrated sound, and he moved to where she was trying to untangle her line. “Here, let me help you.”

“Thank you,” the girl said.

He glanced down at her solemn face. “You can go get some food if you wish.”

But she shook her head. “I like this. I like fishing.”

“You seem to have an aptitude for it.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “Aptitude?”

He smiled. “You’re good at it.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

She gripped her pole fiercely. “I’ve never been good at anything.”

It was his turn to eye her. Perhaps he should offer some platitude, wave away her self-doubt, but he couldn’t find it in him to make light of her distress.

She glanced over her shoulder at her mother. “I disappoint Mama. I’m not… not as right as other girls.”

Alistair frowned. Abigail was unusually solemn for a little girl, but he knew that Mrs. Halifax loved her daughter. “I think that you’re right enough.”

Abigail’s brows knit and he knew he hadn’t said quite the right thing. He opened his mouth to try again when he was called by the picnickers.

“Here’s your food, Sir Alistair,” Jamie said.

Mrs. Halifax held out a plate, carefully avoiding his gaze. Alistair nearly groaned. Her attempt at discretion drew more attention than outright flirtation would. He glanced over her head as he walked to where she sat and met Sophia’s gaze beneath raised eyebrows.

Alistair accepted the plate and sent a stern look at Sophia as he murmured to Mrs. Halifax, “Thank you. I did not mean for you to give up your fishing to serve the rest of us.”

“Oh, it isn’t any bother. I don’t believe I’m particularly clever at the pastime, anyway.”

“Ah, but practice makes perfect,” he drawled.

Her face jerked up at that, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.

He felt his mouth quirk. If only they weren’t so public, they—

“Oh! My line!” Abigail shrieked.

Alistair turned and saw her pole bent nearly at a right angle, her line taut and disappearing under the water. “Hold it, Abigail!”

“What should I do?” Her eyes were as big as saucers, her face gone white.

“Just hold it steady, don’t pull.”

He was by her side now. Abigail had both feet braced on the riverbank and was arching backward using all her slim strength to keep the pole in her hands.

o;Think of your wrist,” Sir Alistair was saying. “Let it flick like the tail of a fish.”

Helen arched an eyebrow and looked over her shoulder at him. He stood farther up the bank, watching her critically, apparently quite serious in his instruction. She sighed, faced forward, and thought of her wrist as she flicked the tall pole in her hand. The end of her line bobbed up in the air, doubled back on itself, and became entangled in a branch overhead.

“Damn,” she muttered under her breath.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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