Chapter Seven

S ilas went to the lawn in front of the house, a vast area where they would be participating in various games over the next few days, including lawn tennis and lawn bowling. Today, however, would be archery. He possessed a lean, athletic build and had always done well in sports from the time he went away to school. Archery and he were old friends. When teams had been created at school, he either captained them or was the first choice made.

He couldn't wait to teach Lyric the finer points of the sport. Not because he was an archery enthusiast, but because he would be able to touch her in an acceptable manner while demonstrating how she should hold her equipment. It would be necessary to guide her, pulling back the bow in order to release the arrow. Being physically close to her would hopefully feed the attraction between them. He had kissed her twice now, and he knew they were compatible. She had picked things up quickly, and he knew she would please him in bed. He had much to teach her and looked forward to the day she could be his.

Still, he was moving slowly. He feared, because of the love matches made in her family, she would have stars in her eyes and want the same for herself. While her appearance greatly appealed to him, from her heart-shaped face to her tiny waist and small, high breasts, he did not love her. Silas knew eventually she might fancy herself in love with him, but he wanted no part of that. Knowing they liked one another and would get along was enough for him. He would use the power of his kisses and persuasion to get her agree to marry him.

"Ready to lose gracefully?" Lord Carroll asked, striding toward him.

"I would ask the same of you, my lord. You are looking at an expert archer. I would have been quite successful five hundred years ago. Lords throughout England would have clamored for my services with a bow and arrow," he teased.

He liked Carroll. He always had. But he had placed distance between him and the earl this past Season, not wanting to be caught up in old, familiar patterns while he was on the hunt for a bride. Things seemed to be better between them now, and he was grateful for that.

"Is there any particular lady you wish to impress today?" Carroll asked. "Perhaps Miss Lyric? I have stayed away from her, you know, simply to honor what we once had between us."

"I appreciate your consideration," he replied. "Yes, I am interested in Miss Lyric. Has any lady claimed your eye?"

The earl's hazel eyes went green. "Stay away from Miss Allegra," he ordered.

He was interested in Allegra Strong?

"I do not think that is a good idea, Carroll," he voiced.

"Do you think I am not good enough for her?"

"I think His Grace would serve your head on a platter if he knew you dallied with his cousin." Silas paused. "Think hard, Carroll. You do not wish to make an enemy of Seaton. These Strongs are protective of one another. If he has an inkling a rake such as you is sniffing about Miss Allegra, there might not be much of you left."

"Then why the bloody hell was I invited to this house party?" the earl growled. He took a deep breath, obviously trying to calm himself. "Her Grace—Mrs. Andrews, that is—seems to think there is more to me," he said, raw pain painted on his face.

Silas asked, "Do you think there is more to you than the rake you play?"

"Yes. No one truly knows me. Not you. Not anyone. Not even myself," Carroll admitted. "But Mrs. Andrews seems to think I am redeemable. Somehow, I want to prove to her—to myself—that I am. That I am more than what the gossips believe me to be."

"You have a genuine interest in Miss Allegra?"

The earl nodded. "I do. I am going to prove to her—to everyone at this house party—that I can be someone to be proud of."

He placed his hand on his old friend's shoulder. "Then I wish you the best in doing so, Sterling." He hoped using Carroll's given name might soothe him somewhat.

"I know you have changed, Silas."

"I am trying to. I think I could better reach my potential with Miss Lyric as my wife."

Carroll flashed his famous smile at Silas. "Just think—we might soon be related if all goes well for us."

Warmth filled him. "I hope that will be the case."

Glancing up, he saw others approaching and said, "If you would, please do not make known my plans with Miss Lyric. I am making progress with her, but I don't want others talking prematurely."

His friend snorted. "At least you are making progress. I haven't a clue where I stand with Miss Allegra."

"We have more than a week left of this house party, Carroll," he said, slapping the earl on the back. "Let us make the most of it."

Servants began placing archery equipment on the lawn, setting up several targets a good distance from each other in order for practice to commence. Chairs also had been brought, and the Duchess of Seaton waddled over to one of them with the help of her husband. Silas couldn't help but see how the duke's love for his wife was written across his face and how the duchess glowed as she neared the end of her term. It troubled him that Lyric saw this on a daily basis.

Would she truly wish to wed him without love between them?

All he had to offer was the strong connection he felt between them. Passion lay there, but they were also forming a foundation based on friendship. Those coupled together should be more than enough for a successful marriage. At least, that was what Silas told himself.

He saw Miss Allegra sort through several bows and pick up one, aiming at a target and firing her arrow at it. The arrow struck close to the very heart of her mark. Obviously, she would need no lessons from Lord Carroll or anyone else.

Going to Miss Lyric, he said, "Are you ready to allow me to instruct you in the finer points of archery?"

"Only if you will not become discouraged by any lack of progress on my part, my lord," she said, laughing.

He took her elbow, leading her to several bows which had been placed upon the lawn.

"First and foremost, you must find a bow for your size. If you choose one too small, it will break because you will pull back too far."

She giggled. "Look at me, my lord. I am but two inches over five feet. I do not think they make a bow too small for me." She glanced about the ground. "Besides, most of these look so large, I doubt I would be able to pull it back all the way."

He sorted through them and brought one up. "I think this one will do."

"Shall I find us some arrows?" she asked.

"Not yet. We will perfect how you hold the bow first and talk about aiming before we test arrows."

Silas led her away from the group. "Even though you have no arrows now, it is always best to behave as if you do. Safety is important where archery is concerned. Never aim and shoot when anyone is in front of you. When shooting with others, stand in a line, side-by-side. And for goodness' sake, wait until all arrows have been fired before you try to retrieve your own."

Lyric sniffed. "That is merely common sense, of which I have plenty, Lord Blankenship."

"Did you claim any guards, Lord Blankenship?" called the duke. "We have several."

"No. Thank you, Your Grace. We will find some now."

"What are guards?" she asked, following him to where her cousin pointed.

"There are two types of guards. I am glad to see both here. An arm guard prevents string burn, while finger guards protect your fingers from being scraped when you pull back the bowstring."

He showed her how to don both, and they returned to her bow. Bending, he retrieved it and held it in his hand.

"Your stance is critical. You want your side facing the target, with your feet shoulder-length apart, though one foot will rest in front of the other."

She situated herself, and he nodded approvingly. Now came the part he had been looking forward to.

Bringing the bow to her, Silas handed it over, asking, "Which is your dominant hand?"

"I am right-handed," she replied.

"This will seem odd, but you will hold the bow with your left hand then," explaining how her right would draw the bow back. "Your dominant hand is stronger."

"That makes sense," she agreed.

"But, we must check for your dominant eye, as well."

Lyric frowned. "How do you know which one that is?"

He stood behind her, covering her left eye with his palm, catching the scent of orange blossom which always seemed to cling to her.

"Look at the target in front of you," he instructed.

"I am," she said, her voice shaking.

He dropped his hand and covered her right eye. "Look again. Do you see any difference?"

"No," she said thoughtfully. "Am I supposed to?"

"Some see better out of one eye than they do the other," he explained. "Can you see the target clearly?"

"Yes. I have no need for spectacles. At least not at my age."

"Then we can continue."

He remained standing behind her. Close. The intoxicating scent of her surrounded him as he told her to lift the bow. He placed his hands over hers. Her back was pressed closely to his front, his heart thumping against his ribs. He sensed she trembled and was afraid he did, as well.

"Look at the target," he said into her ear, his lips brushing the lobe. "Focus on the center. That is where you aim to send your arrow, as close to the center as possible."

They practiced together, pulling the bow back and releasing it several times.

"It stings," she complained. "I am thankful for the protection of the guard."

"You will be quite sore in the morning, Miss Lyric," he warned. "Today, you will use muscles you are not used to using often. Even a little bit of practice, and your muscles will be strained."

"Are you telling me I will not be able to leave my bed, my lord?" she asked.

The thought of her, naked and in bed, almost did him in. He swallowed. "You might need assistance from your maid," he said tonelessly, hoping his cock would not swell. "Are you ready to try it with an arrow?"

"Yes, please," she said eagerly.

He stepped back from her and collected several arrows. Picking one up, he said, "You must nock your arrow." He touched the end. "Since this end does not have a point, this is your nock. You must insert it near the middle of your bowstring."

Silas paused, reaching out and running his thumb and index finger over the bowstring. "Yes, it is here."

Taking her hand, he had her run her fingers along the bowstring, asking, "Do you feel that tiny metal piece?"

"Yes."

"This helps you when you aim. Place the arrow end with the tip on the end of your bow. Never rest the arrow on your hand. I promise you, it stings when you let go, and you don't wish to injure your hand.

"I understand."

Stepping behind her again, he moved to where their bodies were touching once more, his hands over hers.

"Draw the string back. That's right. Let your hand rest against your face. Good girl. Now, look down the shaft and—"

"What is that?"

"The shaft? It is the long stick of the arrow."

"I am looking," she said, her body tense, shaking from holding the bow back that long.

"Then point the arrow at your target. And fire."

Lyric released, the arrow sailing through the air. "I hit it! I hit the target! On my first try."

"You did. Not bad. It is halfway between the center and the edge."

She glanced over her shoulder, their lips close. "Only because you were helping me to aim."

"Try again," he said, bending and claiming another arrow, allowing her to nock it. He still remained close, feeling her body heat, his hands atop hers. The first time, he had aided her in drawing back the string. This time, he had her rely entirely on her own strength, though his hands still touched hers.

"This is most difficult," she complained.

"I told you that you would be using muscles."

She sniffed. "Well, I do not have the muscles you do, my lord. They are everywhere. Even when you rolled up your sleeves this morning. Your forearms are even muscular."

So, she had noticed his build. He liked that.

"Quit talking and aim," he ordered.

Lyric did so, pausing a moment, and then she let the arrow fly through the air. This time, it struck hallway between the arrow protruding from the target and the center.

"Better," he praised. Reluctantly, he released his hold on her, stepping away. "Let us see how you fare now, all on your own."

She missed the target entirely.

But she laughed, a good sport about it, and accepted the next arrow he handed to her. She continued practicing and improved with each shot.

"I am becoming accustomed to all I need to do," she told him. Lowering the bow, she added, "You are a patient tutor."

"Thank you, Miss Lyric. I am certain you will make me proud in the competition."

"I know I will never beat Allegra, but second place would feel like victory to me."

In the end, she did take the second spot behind her twin, who outshone all the competition. Miss Bancroft and Miss Markle made a decent showing, however, while Lady Lida never hit the target once in any of the five rounds. It didn't seem to matter, though, because Lord Motley consoled her. Silas had not seen that pairing coming, and he hoped it might last.

The gentlemen were to compete next. Even His Grace joined in the fun. While the ladies had each aimed five times at their targets, the men went head-to-head in pairs, with the winners advancing over double the rounds. It did not surprise Silas when he and Lord Carroll were the last two standing in the competition.

"I hope I did you proud, Allegra," the duke said, adding, "My cousin gave me a few archery lessons before today, just as my sister Effie has been teaching me to ride. I suppose between the two of them, I might make for a country gentleman, after all."

Servants removed the arrows from the targets and set things up for the final match. Silas and Carroll were close in their skill level, but it was his friend who snatched the victory on the final shot.

"That took longer than I expected," Mrs. Andrews said, once the competition ended. "Why don't we save lawn bowling for another day? Everyone must want to go in and freshen up since tea will be served in the drawing room in half an hour."

He shook hands with the earl. "A good match."

"Indeed," Carroll said, his eyes roaming.

"She is behind you," Silas said quietly. "Coming this way."

Turning, he took a few steps, being met by Lyric. He loved how her russet hair gleamed brightly in the sunlight.

"No one in your family possesses your hair color," he noted.

"All the Strongs have cornflower blue eyes, and most of them, like Allegra, were born with dark hair. My cousin Mirella got her auburn hair from her paternal grandmother, while Cousin Effie's golden hair comes from her maternal grandmother. My hair, which looks more brown than red indoors, changes color when I am in the sun. Much more of the red is visible." She paused and quietly added, "Aunt Dinah told me my mother had hair the same shade of russet."

Then she brightened. "You shot quite well, my lord."

"Not well enough to win," he said ruefully.

"Your skill with a bow and arrow is obvious."

"I believe Lord Carroll had added incentive, wanting to impress your sister."

She frowned. "I do not think he should pursue her. He is a rake. Allegra deserves much better than that. Even if she has kissed him."

"They have kissed?" Silas asked, intrigued by that.

"Oh, I should not have said so. Please do not mention that I did to Allegra."

"Your secret is safe with me, Miss Lyric."

"I feel safe when I am with you, Lord Blankenship," she said, her words intriguing him even more than the kiss her twin and Lord Carroll had shared.

She glanced around. He did, too, seeing they were alone. All others had retreated to the house, and servants had claimed the archery equipment and were walking away. No one had eyes on them.

Boldly, he took her waist, tugging her toward him. "I may not be eligible for a victor's kiss, but I would like to kiss you all the same."

She didn't speak, but her eyes gave him permission. Silas hungered for her, but they were still in the open. He did not want to force them into a betrothal. He wanted her to say yes on her own.

Because of that, he slowly brushed his lips against hers a moment and then released her, pleased when he saw disappointment reflected in her eyes.

"Thank you for the kiss, Lyric."

"Don't . . . don't you want . . . a better one?" she pleaded.

"Not in the open when anyone might catch us at it," he said. "But if we found an alcove later tonight, I would be up for a much different kind of kiss."

She smiled—and he almost gobbled her whole.

"Aunt Dinah has asked Allegra and me to play for our guests this evening. Perhaps afterward we might go for a stroll in the gardens."

"As long as you do not make me pick weeds," he countered, causing her to laugh. "No, a stroll would be lovely. And anything that happened on that stroll."

Lyric's gaze met his. "Until tonight, my lord."

She left him, and he felt as he always did when she was gone. Silas knew for certain that he must have her. That no one else would ever do.

Tonight, he would offer for her.