Hold your arm steady."
Glaring toward the target set across the open meadow, Jocelyn grimaced at the low words.
She had already attempted to hit the blasted thing on a dozen occasions. Lucien, of course, had proven to be just as efficient an expert with the bow and arrow as he was at everything else. He had managed to hit the bull's-eye with every arrow he sent winging toward the target.
It was decidedly maddening.
"I am trying," she muttered.
"Concentrate upon the target."
His fingers brushed over her arms left bare by her blue muslin gown. Jocelyn gritted her teeth at the sharp pleasure that flowed through her.
Concentrate? When he was so close that she could feel the very heat of him searing her skin?
"I see the target," she retorted in tart tones.
"No, concentrate upon it until there is nothing else," he corrected her in that dark, honey voice. "Now breathe steadily."
Knowing that it was impossible to concentrate upon anything but the gentleman pressed so intimately against her, Jocelyn heaved a sigh.
"Surely it cannot be so difficult to fly an arrow toward a target?"
"Do you wish to learn the proper technique or not?"
"I suppose."
"Then, concentrate." Keeping his hands upon her arms to help her aim, he waited until she had managed to steady her swift breaths. "Now."
At his command, Jocelyn abruptly let the arrow fly, thoroughly astonished when it actually managed to head in the proper direction, and even caught the bottom of the target. It promptly bounced to the ground, but she did not care.
"I hit it." Grinning broadly at her success, Jocelyn spun about to confront Lucien. "Did you see?"
An indulgent expression spread across the delicately chiseled countenance.
"Yes, I did see. But you allowed your arm to dip when you released the arrow. Would you care to try again?"
"Good gads, no," she retorted with sincere weariness. "I shall be stiff for the next fortnight as it is."
The golden eyes sparkled at her blunt confession. "Very well."
Realizing that she was standing much closer than propriety allowed, Jocelyn reluctantly stepped from his tall form. It was far too easy to forget propriety when she was with this gentleman, she acknowledged ruefully.
Not that she particularly cared about the rigid rules of society any longer. She had already lost that battle. But, she was still a lady, and she would not allow herself to behave as a common tart. Her honor was all she had left.
"Perhaps we should return," she forced herself to murmur. "Meg will begin to fret if we are gone too long. She can be rather protective of me."
His smile was rueful at her vast understatement. "So I had noticed. Still, it does seem a pity.
It is a beautiful day to be away from the clutter of town." Jocelyn lifted her face up toward the golden sun-shine. It was beautiful. She had nearly forgotten how lovely the English countryside could be. Sur-rounded by the dark, grim streets of London, it was easy to become lost in its depressing gloom.
Now she allowed herself to breathe deeply of the sweetly scented air.
"Yes, it is," she whispered, allowing the peace to soothe her troubled soul. "I forget how quiet it can be."
His golden gaze lingered upon her upturned countenance. "Quiet enough to hear the beat of a heart."
Jocelyn abruptly stilled at his odd words.