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He mussed Mary’s hair with his hand—felt her tense under his touch—then moved toward the archery butts.
A longbow leaned against the wall. It was still too large for Mary, but he collected it from the ground and handed it to her regardless. She looked at him, perplexed; then a shy smile brightened her face and eyes.
“For me?”
Rowan nodded. Then he pulled a handful of arrows from a butt.
“Have you shot an arrow before?”
She shook her head. “Ladies aren’t supposed to fight,” she said, her voice a whisper.
Rowan got down to one knee, balancing his arm on the top of the bow. “The world is changing. Ladies aren’t supposed to fight, aye… ladies must know how to fight. I want you to be safe. Always.”
Then he rose to his feet and brought the longbow into place. “Watch me first.” He slowly nocked the arrow, kept his shoulder low, drew back, and let it loose. It hit the butt dead center.
* * *
Blanchette watched them from her window.
I wish Governess Agnes could see this. Blanchette had looked for her that morning to no avail.
How regal yet gentle Rowan looked, guiding little Mary, clapping as her arrow loosed and hit nowhere near the archery butt. Blanchette crossed the gallery and made her way down the winding stairs. Something compelled her toward Rowan. She’d been drawn to him from the first, even when she cursed him with every breath. Even when she saw him as a monster. Something about him had always ruled her.
Rowan seemed to sense her as she entered the small training yard. She saw the awareness awaken in his body. He visibly tensed. His eyes jerked up from Mary and to Blanchette’s. A current blazed between them. An unspoken heat. Blanchette stood silently for several moments.
She cleared her throat and ran her palms over her skirt. “Forgive me, I… I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Smoke raised his head at the sound of her voice. He padded over in a few graceful strides, moving as quiet as a ghost. Blanchette held out her knuckles for him to smell. He licked her fingers, and she rewarded the wolf with scratches behind his ears.
We truly are friends now.
“Not at all. I’m glad you’ve come,” Rowan said, his rich voice filling her mind and body with its smooth timbre. “We’re having a lesson, see,” he said, gesturing to Mary and the crossbow, which was far too big for her. “About how ladies must know how to fight.”
“Father is teaching me how to shoot arrows,” Mary explained, a smile lighting her face.
“Ah, I can see that,” Blanchette replied.
Mary smiled again, then loosed another arrow. This one hit the butt at its edge. They went on that way for the better part of the morning until Mary and Smoke left together so she could break her fast.
Rowan stepped intimately close to Blanchette, and suddenly, the training yard seemed to shrink. He stood over her, his eyes sparkling in the light, the sun’s rays gleaming in his hair’s deep black.
“Have you shot a longbow before?” he asked, his voice a sultry rumble that Blanchette felt move through her bones.
“No,” she said, shuffling back just an inch. Dark memories came tumbling like water through a dam. “But I’ve used a dagger. An axe too,” she added with a nervous, sad laugh, thinking of that night in the woods.
He closed the space she’d just gained. They were chest to chest, face-to-face. Nearly touching. Blanchette tried to take a deep breath, but her lungs felt tight. Her throat too. Her heart raced in her ears. She was sure he’d hear the sound. He looked down at her for several more moments of jittery silence. “The night of the attack. That was the first time you killed someone.” It wasn’t a question. But she nodded anyway.
“Here,” he said, handing the longbow to her. It fit her much better than Mary. But why did her hand feel so damn clumsy as he wrapped it around the wood and carefully positioned her fingers?
“Keep your elbow up and your gaze on the target. Your eyes will send the arrow where it needs to go.”
Blanchette felt heat emanating from Rowan’s body as he stood behind her, guiding her posture. They fit together perfectly. His breath tickled her neck as he whispered, “That’s it. Now, draw back the string and let it fly.”
As she released the arrow, she couldn’t believe how smooth the motion felt, almost like an extension of her own body. It sailed through the air, hitting the target with a satisfying thump. She turned to Rowan with a smile, and he grinned back at her.
He looked handsome… achingly wholesome, with a boyish look of triumph on his face.
“You’re a natural,” he said, his voice low and husky. “But we can always work on improving.”
Blanchette’s heart skipped a beat as Rowan’s hand rested on her hip. He reached for another arrow. She could feel the heat of his body against her back, and the soft hairs on her arms stood up in anticipation. The hard ridge of his arousal strained against her bottom.
