Elise took a deep breath, releasing it slowly, relaxing her body. She looked down the barrel, her eyes picking out the clear mark on the very outside edge of the target made by Miss Silver’s shot. It was a wonder the woman had hit the thing at all, given that she had been using a musket and not a rifle, but Elise had to give her credit for being able to handle the heavier weapon with a minimum of fuss.
All the targets had been whitewashed, black circles in diminishing sizes painted on their faces, and the one Miss Silver had chosen was a middling distance away. But it was not moving. Nor was there wind, or rain, or smoke, or fog. No screams of wounded or dying men, no thunder of feet or hooves marking the hunters and the hunted. No shouts, no whistle of artillery. It was distracting, this absence of distraction, Elise thought. But regardless, she would put her shot where she needed to.
It galled Elise to fail intentionally. It was so tempting to simply put a clean shot through the center of that target, if only to see Miss Silver’s face. But Miss Silver was not worth whatever repercussions the Barrs or anyone else might suffer because of her ability to manipulate her father’s fragile ego.
With some regret Elise picked a spot on the edge of the target, debating just how close she should come to Miss Silver’s shot. And then, beyond the target, a movement caught her eye. A blur of grey along the top of the stone fence at the end of the field. Elise smiled. And fired.
* * *
Noah watched as Elise fired her rifle, absorbing the kick of the gun with such ease that it was obvious to anyone watching that she had fired that weapon a thousand times. The rifle was an extension of her hand, her stance sure, every movement expert. Particularly the minute yet deliberate adjustment of the barrel in the second before she fired. While every other pair of eyes flew to the target, his stayed on the woman in the green dress, who had straightened. A small smile played about her lips, as though she was privy to an amusing secret.
“She missed,” Miss Silver announced waspishly from where she had been watching, and clasped her hands together in delight. She turned a victorious smile on Elise. “Perhaps some more practice will improve your shot, Miss DeVries.”
“I’m sure it will.” Elise had arranged her face in an expression that looked suitably chastened and grave, and Noah wasn’t sure if he should laugh at her acting ability or be furious on her behalf at the entire condescending farce.
But then Elise caught his eye and winked, and whatever anger he’d been harboring vanished, because suddenly they were partners.
I am with you, not against you.
There was a battle going on inside him, an epic tug-of-war, in which on one side caution and bitterness had dug in deeply. It was this that had kept him distant and safe from his past for years, things that had ensured his solitary survival. But now Noah was questioning whether he wanted distance and safety anymore. For on the other side, admiration and hope were hauling on his heart and his conscience. Because when Elise DeVries had ridden into his life, she had brought with her the realization that he wasn’t really alone. And an insistence that, if he chose to, he could be everything Elise seemed to think he might be.
She believed in him. Even knowing everything that she did, she believed in him. More than he had ever believed in himself.
And that knowledge was making it hard for Noah to concentrate on anything other than the beautiful woman still holding a Baker rifle.
He couldn’t take his eyes from her. He ignored the knots of men murmuring and gesturing at the targets. He ignored Miss Silver where she was accepting congratulations from her father near the edge of the field. He ignored the people still lingering and staring at Elise with curiosity. He went directly to her side and stopped, simply needing to be near her.
Elise smiled at him briefly before bending to examine the edge of the flint on the Baker. “Where’s Sarah?”
“She’s with John,” Noah said, trying to affect a cavalier demeanor in an effort to distract himself from the overwhelming urge to kiss her and so maintain this exhilarating sense of alliance for just a few moments longer.
“Of course. Please advise me if that little troll of a baron causes trouble for her, or anyone she’s related to, in the next while.”
“Why? You’ll arrange to have him transported?” Noah’s brows bunched, her statement providing the distraction he needed to focus on something other than the desire pounding through his veins.
Elise lifted her head and gazed at him with approval. “Why, that’s an excellent suggestion, Mr. Lawson.”
“I was jesting.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You could make that happen?”
“Yes. Though there are others at Chegarre and Associates who have far better connections in that department than I. I would refer Mrs. Barr to them.”
Noah felt his jaw slacken.
“I trust my performance was adequate?” Elise asked, returning her attention to the Baker.
Noah cleared his throat. “You didn’t have to miss entirely.”
“I didn’t.”
“There wasn’t a mark on that target.”
“Ah. Yes, well, I wasn’t shooting at that target,” she told him, brushing out the priming pan.
“Then what the hell were you shooting at?”
“There was a rat.”
“A rat?” Noah stared at her. “What? Where? I didn’t see a rat.”
“On the far fence. Running along the top. About a yard to the left of the gate.” She finished her ministrations and raised her head. “I told you I hate rats. There are some who say they are a harbinger of the Black Death, you know.”
“The far fence.” Noah was aware he was repeating her words like a half-wit, but that far fence was at least twice as far away as the target.
“Yes.” She swatted at a fly that buzzed near her waist. “Listen, I’m starved. All this losing has made me famished. Do you think we might get something to eat?”
Noah pinned her with a hard look. “Stay here.”
“What—” she started, but Noah was already jogging across the field, heading to the far fence. He reached the wooden gate and turned to the left, taking measured steps along the rough stone wall. If there had truly been a rat then he should find—
He stopped abruptly, then vaulted over the fence. Lying in the fragrant grass, a good number of feet beyond the fence, was a rat. Or what was left of one. He nudged it with his toe, fleas jumping from its fur, its body still warm.
He turned and stared back in the direction of Elise, her green dress easy to pick out among the men who were still milling. He could see her put her hands on her hips and shake her head. Slowly Noah made his way back to the tent.
She cocked a brow at him, her jaw set. “What did you find on the other side of that fence, Mr. Lawson?”
“A rat.”
“Good heavens. You don’t say. Was it dead?”
“Yes,” he muttered.
“Imagine that. You know you could have saved yourself a long walk if you had only believed me,” Elise said with a sardonic edge to her voice. “A lesser woman might start taking exception to your complete lack of faith in her.”
Noah winced. “That’s not fair.”
“Yes, well, not much in life is fair, Mr. Lawson. I just lost a shooting contest on purpose to a silly girl who would be dead within a week of a Canadian winter if she had to rely on her skill with a gun to feed herself. That is not fair.”
“You picked a rat off a fence at the far end of the bloody field. That’s…”
“Proficient?” she prompted, sounding testy.
“Far-fetched. Almost impossible.”
“Impossible?” Elise made a rude noise. “Good thing you’re not relying on your skill with a gun to eat either.” She sniffed. “Are you always this complimentary to women you escort to summer picnics?”
Noah ran a hand through his hair, feeling like an utter cad. She was right. “I’m sorry.”
Elise sighed. “Apology accepted.” She put a hand on his arm. “One of these times, Mr. Lawson, you’re going to surprise me. You’re going to simply believe me when I tell you something.” She patted his arm, and Noah caught her hand in his.
He drew her closer, unwilling to let go of her hand. “Thank you for losing.”
“You’re welcome.” She gave a wry shake of her head. “Please don’t ever ask me to do it again.”
“I won’t.” He paused, letting his eyes roam over her beautiful face.
“Good.” She was smiling at him again. “I’ll happily lose at a lot of things if it’s required, but shooting cannot be one of them. I have some pride, you know.”
“You are…” He trailed off, unable to choose the right word. Incredible. Incomparable.
With me.
And she truly was. For the first time in his adult life, he was no longer alone. Aye, he had wonderful friends and people he cared for who surrounded him, but they’d always been kept at a careful distance. Even John, his closest friend, didn’t know his real name. He’d pursued very few relationships with women, knowing that such unions would always be bereft of any real intimacy beyond physical pleasure. There could be no whispered sharing of hopes and dreams and histories because Noah had been unable—unwilling—to disclose anything real. Women, like everyone else, knew only the individual he had diligently presented, the carefully curated persona of Noah Lawson.
And all of that vigilance had been, indeed, a lonely endeavor.
Until Elise. Until he’d met the woman who knew his secrets. Until that woman had refused to leave him, refused to back down, refused to accept his rebuffs. Instead she’d taken a few more secrets from where they rested heavily on his shoulders into her own unflinching heart.
And, in doing so, made his burden lighter.
“I am what?” Elise prompted, giving him a slightly puzzled look.
He started, realizing she was still waiting for him to finish what he’d begun to say. Except he couldn’t. There were words and feelings and longings piling up in his head and heart, and he couldn’t sort any of it into a sentence that might express just what Elise DeVries was to him. He reached out and touched her face, using the only language he could articulate just now.
Her pupils dilated, and her breathing became shallow, and it was an effort to remember he was standing under a tent, surrounded by people milling about, conversations rising and falling around him. It was an effort to remember why he couldn’t kiss her right here. The aching need for her was about to trump every ounce of his common sense.
“If you keep looking at me like that, Mr. Lawson, I’ll do something stupid, then you’ll do something even more stupid, and we’ll find ourselves married by morning,” she murmured.
“We’re not in a London assembly room,” he said, if only to cover the yearning that ripped through him at the prospect of taking this woman to his bed. And keeping her there indefinitely.
“No, we’re in a damn sheep pasture. Surrounded by guns. And people. And sheep shit. I fail to see the advantage.” She sounded breathless.
He ran his thumb along the edge of her jaw. “I really do need a carriage. One with a lock on the door.”
She shivered and licked her lower lip.
Every drop of blood in his body pooled in his groin. “You have no idea how much I want you right now.” He had nothing but the truth to offer her, standing here in this tent. “I would give you—”
The crack of a musket snapped through the air as the shooting contest got under way.
“Food,” she said, stepping out of his reach.
His hand fell to his side. “What?” He could barely think through this haze of lust.
“You can get me food.” Her voice was unsteady.
Noah took a few great gulps of air.
“I’m going now, Mr. Lawson.” She turned and headed away from the field, away from him. Away from the recklessness that had gripped them in its thrall.
“Where?” He hurried after her. Enough blood had returned to his brain to penetrate his daze.
“To find something to eat.”
“Then at least give me your rifle. I’ll put it back in the wagon.”
She opened her mouth as if to argue.
“There are no unfamiliar faces here, Miss DeVries. And anyone who might wish me harm would be an utter idiot to do anything in front of a small army of men whom I count as friends.” Another crack of a musket punctuated his words. “Friends who are currently using firearms, at that.”
She fingered the stock of the Baker uncertainly. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” He held out his hand.
Still she hesitated.
“If you’re worried about dinner, everything that’s being served is already dead.”
She made a face. “Very funny.”
“I try.”
Slowly she placed the rifle in his outstretched hand. “I’m trusting you to tell me if anything changes, Mr. Lawson.”
“Understood. And thank you.”
“For what?”
“For trusting me.”
Elise shook her head. “I don’t need your pretty words, Mr. Lawson. You can thank me by returning the favor one day.”
* * *
“I’d bet every brass button I’ve ever sold in my store that Miss DeVries lost that shooting match to Lord Corley’s daughter on purpose,” Stuart Howards said, nearly shouting to be heard over the music that was pulsing around them. The ground beneath Noah’s boots vibrated with the feet of dancers as they swirled by.
Noah was listening with half an ear. The slightly inebriated Howards was one of a dozen men who had brought up the afternoon’s shooting contest with Noah, hoping that he might confirm or deny that statement, which seemed to be the general consensus of the crowd. There had been too many veterans looking on who had recognized not only the somewhat uncommon weapon but the expertise of the hands that had held it.
“Perhaps,” Noah answered vaguely. It was the same answer he had given to everyone else. His eyes were searching the crowd, looking for the woman in question.
Howards took a deep swallow from his cup of ale. “Where is Miss DeVries from?” he inquired, his face flushed from the heat or the alcohol or both.
Noah’s eyes fell on Elise then. She was standing near the edge of the dance floor, her foot tapping in time to the music and an expression of wistful longing on her face. For once she wasn’t watching the crowd, looking for a threat that he knew didn’t exist here. Instead she was gazing at the dancers, looking as if she very much wished to join them.
“York,” Noah said, distracted.
“Ah, a Northern girl.” Howards nodded to himself as if this explained everything.
Through the bodies spinning in a country dance, Elise’s eyes met Noah’s, as if she had felt him watching her. He tipped his head toward the dancers and raised a brow. Her face broke into a sudden, radiant smile. In an instant Noah’s blood heated and his pulse accelerated.
He was lost. He wanted this woman beyond anything that was reasonable or rational. He’d settle for a dance here, now, but he knew it wasn’t going to be enough.
Howards was wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “Lots of visitors coming through town this time o’ year,” he said. “Good for business, you know, though you got to keep a careful eye. Couple coves in my store jus’ yesterday askin’ around about—”
“Excuse me, Howards,” Noah interrupted. “But there is a lady who is looking for a dance partner.” And Noah would be damned if she would dance with anyone else. Elise belonged to him and only him. He was already making his way toward her before Howards even had a chance to answer. Which was somewhat rude, but Noah couldn’t seem to bring himself to care. He had no interest in talking about brass buttons and store sales with Howards. His only focus was on the woman in the green dress who had his insides twisting in anticipation and desire.
Within seconds he’d pulled Elise from the edge of the spectators into the mass of dancers, reveling in the joy and delight that shone from her eyes as she threw her head back and laughed.