Page 33 of A Highland Duke to Claim Her Heart

“I would, actually,” she said, grinning at him. “It could come in useful later in life if I am ever accosted again at a lake by a strange man.”

“You mean rescued?” he said, but he was grinning.

They made their way across the square, paid the two pence, and then the man running the archery range handed Cassandra a bow. She picked it up gingerly, not exactly sure what to do.

“Do you need help?” Ewan asked, his tone amused, and she made a face.

“No,” she said, determined to try this on her own, to not need assistance. She lifted the arrow up and notched it on the string, then attempted to draw back the string.

It was so strong that she could barely pull it back even a few inches.

Clearing her throat, she tried again. This time, she managed to pull it back a little more, but not nearly enough to actually release it.

Behind her, she heard a low chuckle.

“Having trouble?” Ewan murmured.

“No,” she said stubbornly, pulling back as hard as she possibly could. “I am very strong and capable and—”

“Bad at asking for help?”

And then, before she could stop him, Ewan had positioned himself right behind her. With one arm, he reached around her, and placed a hand over the one she had on the string. With the other hand, he held the bow in place, so that his arms were fully wrapped around her.

Then, his hand still over hers, he drew back the string.

Cassandra’s heart was in her throat. She could not think straight. Her back was flush against Ewan. The duke. Her husband. This man who had shared her bed one night and left her flowers, then had barely spoken to her since. Now he was pressed against her, and she could smell his masculine, earthy scent, like earth and clove and smoke from the fire. She tried not to close her eyes as the scent washed over her.

She had to focus.

She had to shoot this bow.

“Just like that,” he murmured, and she felt something hot move through her, moving sweat prickle on the back of her neck and under her arms. He moved the bow so that she was aiming directly toward the target. “Perfect.”

His mouth was very close to head, as if he were whispering into her hair. She tried not to tremble. She did not want to miss the target because she was shaking uncontrollably.

“Now we release,” he said.

And, at the exact same time, they both released the string.

Thwap.

The string sprang back into place as the arrow shot forward, and, to Cassandra’s astonishment, landed right in the center of the target.

“Oh my goodness!” she heard Lillian cry. “Good shot, Your Grace! Your… Graces.”

Ewan released her, and Cassandra stepped away from him, feeling slightly dizzy. She looked around and saw Lillian watching her with a wide smile. There was something knowing in her eyes that made Cassandra’s cheeks heat.

“Y-yes,” she stammered. “Well, His Grace helped. I would not have been able to do it without him.”

And she quickly moved away, toward where Annabelle was now playing croquet with several other children, so that she would not have to meet Lillian’s gaze a moment longer—or think about the feel of Ewan pressed against her.

For the rest of the festival, she was able to avoid Ewan, but when they finally left just after midnight, she was glad to find herself alone with him once more. Behind them, they could still hear the merriment of men carousing, the children having mostly gone to sleep by now, the lights from the lanterns glinting against the darkness.

Above them, the stars whirled, and as they walked together up the road that would take them to Calder Castle, Cassandra felt as if she had never been so at peace. They were entirely alone, surrounded by nature. Never had the stars been brighter or the air clearer. She breathed in deeply, letting the serenity of the scene wash over her.

Ewan walked beside her, carrying Annabelle in his arms. She had fallen asleep an hour earlier, and now she rested with her head on her father’s shoulders, her legs wrapped around his waist.

“She is up past her bedtime,” Cassandra murmured, breaking the silence.